Chick Flicks

Is it me or has the caliber of the good ol' stereotypical chick flick seriously fallen by the wayside? It's like they have been added to the endangered species list or worse, have gone extinct altogether. Now, I watch a lot of movies, always have. Previously, more of these movies were watched at the actual theatre but I can no longer afford neither the cinema nor the babysitter needed to watch the Mae Mo so I've developed a new relationship with Mr. Redbox. For $1.29 the hubby and I can enjoy a flick on our semi-new iMac. We literally cannot hear the movie if we watch it on our old DVD+TV tube combo setup in the living room so to the computer in the guest room we go. Anyway, there we've sat on many a recent weekend watching movie after movie after movie and what I can report is that my movie-picking privileges have officially been revoked. I am not a fan of gore and guts so Shawn obliges my semi-girly requests in between picks of general consensus. Well, up until recently that is. My second to last choice broke the camel's back: The Lucky One.

The Lucky One is based on a Nicholas Sparks novel and stars Zac Efron and Taylor Schiling. I naively assumed, based on the enticing previews, that this would fall inline with other previous Sparks-novels-turned-movies, a la The Notebook. It didn't. Ryan Gosling Mr. Efron is not. It was terrible. TERRIBLE. Horrible acting, horrible plot, horrible production. I think Efron had like 25 lines total. Apparently his only job was to stare off into space or look at the camera lens a time or two. Seriously, it was bad. And what's more astonishing, 67% of those that viewed it actually claimed to liking it according to rottentomatoes.com. Clearly they were drunk. This movie fell right inline with another doozy I suggested a while back, Just Wright with Queen Latifah and Common. Both of these movies have now formed a category I like to call, pornos sans the sex scenes. You know the type: bad plot, bad acting, bad soundtrack.

What to Expect When You're Expecting wasn't terrible, but it certainly was predictable. There were moments of laughter, which unlike a few others, made this movie tolerable. Wanderlust was pretty funny too actually, but also a bit raunchy (moving the needle more towards the manly movie side) and at some parts, over-the-top. Friends with Kids = horrible. It's basically the cast from Bridesmaids but not funny at all and at most times, very, very awkward. I will say though, one diamond in the sand we came upon was Salmon Fishing in the Yemen. It sparkled for two reasons: 1. Emily Blunt and 2. the dialect. Not only did the main characters have whimsical and contrasting accents, but their conversations were brilliant and beautiful to listen to. Call me old fashion but this mere fact alone made the movie for me. So I guess all my recent attempts haven't been total losses, but the odds are not in my favor.

Therefore I'm declaring that the classic chick flick era ended with Julia Roberts. I think I own nearly every movie she's ever been in and I still, to this day, watch them from time to time, on my VCR. BOOM! The world needs a new Julia. Something present-day to rival the timeless Pretty Woman, which Miss Roberts was nominated for an Oscar for by the way. I point this out because it just goes to show a good chick flick can also be highly acclaimed. The two are not mutually exclusive. I had high hopes with Katherine Heigl but it's been a while since 27 Dresses and Life as We Know It. Also, her most recent release, One for the Money, got a whopping 2% freshness on rottentomatoes.com. 2%. That's the lowest I've ever seen which says allot because we religiously refer to Rotten Tomatoes for most movie recommendations. Which begs the question, why are we watching such bad movies in the first place then? Well… sometimes you want a movie to be good in spite of it's reviews. Sometimes you just have to see it to believe it. Sometimes a good chick flick is hated by the critics but loved by the masses. Sometimes… you just hope you found a hidden gem. Well I haven't and I'm killing my husband in the search.

Someone help. Have you seen something recently I should check out? Do tell. Me and my glass of wine will be waiting. Same goes for a good book although I'm having far more luck in that arena so let's talk talkies…

Local

The coffers being what they were this Labor Day (refer to last post), we vowed to find a few local things to do, on the cheap, to round out our summer. What's cheaper, then cheaper then cheap? FREE. Enter the Como Zoo.

Here are the highlights of our first-ever trip with the Mae Moe.

Maci (points finger): "What's thaaat?"
Mama: "That's a giraffe."
Maci: "Puppy!"

Maci (points finger): "What's thaaat?"
Dada: "That's a tiger."
Maci: "Puppy!"

Maci (points finger): "What's thaaat?"
Mama: "That's a wolf."
Maci: "Puppy!"
Dada: "That's right! It IS a puppy!"

After a minor disagreement with some sunscreen, Maci was on the mend and we made our way through the zoo (which is practically in our backyard), followed up with a stroll through Como Town, a picnic lunch and then, we ended the perfect day with what quickly became my favorite memory with my daughter to date.

A few weeks prior, we had visited the Great Minnesota Get Together, and thanks to some rain and a tired toddler, we had to skip any sort of ride or giant-slide fun. So imagine my surprise and delight when we came across one the greatest, most nostalgic rides of all time, just a few paces from our picnic spot. For six quarters (Mae Mo was free), or in our case, a quick credit card swipe (yes, we charged $1.50 – who carries cash anymore?) I got to take my daughter on her very first carousal ride! She was a bit shy at first and did NOT want to sit on the horse by herself. She clung to that gold pole like her balance depended on it but by the end, she was petting the horses head, grinning from ear-to-ear and bouncing up and down on my lap. I couldn't stop smiling. Best Mama/Maci memory to date.

The only snafu, if you can call it one, is that I forced Shawn to snap some photos while we went around and around and around but I didn't set the camera up correctly before I gave it to him so everything came out pretty dark. The good news is, with some free Photoshop actions from The Pioneer Woman, I was able to salvage the above sentimental keeper and thanks to the carousal's close proximity, I know we'll be back again and again and again.

The following weekend, we visited the Minnehaha Falls for the first time. Actually, as Shawn put it, the Minnehaha Trickle. There was barely any water to speak of, but thankfully, the nearby parks and sites were enough to keep us entertained. I took the opportunity to test out the ol' camera. With the Stevens House and surrounding areas as my backdrop, I'd say we got a few good ones. Shawn even managed to get a couple of this Mama with her Maci, in focus mind you!

It's crazy how easily we forgot the shear volume of stuff there is to do around here, and stuff that doesn't break the bank. The Twin Cities, and Minnesota in general, are so beautiful. M-I-N-N-E-S-O-T-A… Minnesota, Minnesota, ehhhhh Gophers! Speaking of which, the Gopher football team is 3-0! Amazing what allowing a little alcohol into a stadium does for a team.

Summer

I'll let the photos tell the tale of our summer 2012. Pretty sure we did it up right…

1. I took a trip to New York with the girls.

2. Shawn took his annual trip to Canada with the guys.

3. Maci turned one and had two birthday parties.

4. We visited the crazy cute Cornstuble cousins in Virginia.

 

5. Team DeBoer morphed into Team Camo and ran a 5K.

 

6. Shawn completed his Masters (degree, not golf). The man has, like, 18 degrees now. Congratulations Mr. DeBoer – SO stinking proud of you – now STOP going to school!

 
7. And finally, we played.

I couldn't have scripted a more perfect summer filled with firsts, family, friends, festivities and fun. Now bring on fall, football, er… fires… and… oh f*ck it. I'm out.

Alternative

As I'm sure I've mentioned a million times before, I don't do baby books. I don't have that kind of time, I personally believe the expectations of such are unrealistic and… I'm a middle child. I had no such book and look, I turned out just fine. I do, however, journal and have journaled for years and years. Therefore, as an alternative to the guilt-stricken, obsessive-inducing, time-suck that is a baby book, I've been using this marvelous creation:

One Line a Day: A Five-Year Memory Book

Here's how it works:

Here's what it looks like:

Here's where you can get one:

I came upon this remarkable resource via the Woodruffs: friends, neighbors and my-kind-of parents. I was bitching whining one day about my failures as a mother (because I haven't been documenting the meager and milestone moments of Maci's life) and the very next day, Mike shows up at my door with this fascinating find. He prefaced it with the simplest of instructions: keep it by your bed. I have and I do and I write in it every single night before I go to sleep. It's life-changing. All I'm responsible for is one entry per day, six or seven micro lines of memories that I want etched in ink for all of eternity. How incredibly easy is that? Even the remnants of what's left of my brain can conquer that! Now Maci's life is documented daily in the thoughts and words of those that gave it to her. 

**

Images 1 and 3 are from here. Image 2 is from here. The amazon.com image is from amazon.com, obviously. 

Wordless Weekend

5K

Right out of the gate, I'm going to set aside the emotional implications of this event and just talk about logistics, at least at first. Registration for the race was from 8-9am with the race starting immediately after. I planned to be out the door at 8am in order for us to arrive by 8:30am, giving us plenty of time to do all that we'd need to do, pre-gun-shot-start. Yeah, that didn't happen. We did make it out the door by 8am but instead, thanks to construction, had a wee bit of a trouble actually locating the lake we were to run around. To make a long (and high anxiety) story short, by the time we found parking, we had to haul buns to the band shell to get registered. Just as we were pinning on our numbers and zip-tying the chips to our shoes (more on that later), the wonderful man with the megaphone was telling us we should be at the starting line. I had not stretched, I had not mentally amped myself up, I had not positioned my iPod and… I had to pee. Immediately, albeit hesitantly, I forgot all that as I hurried myself (and my camo cohorts) to the back of the pack. I'll be damned if I was going to start my very first 5K late. Rules rebel I am not.

In hindsight, and after learning more about these impressive little chips, I realized it didn't really matter when we started. The way they work is, the minute you step on the blue mat at the start, it initiates your electronic chip and starts timing your run. Then when you cross the blue mat at the finish line, it stops it and spits out a recording of your time, your pace, etc. Would have been nice to know, right? The whole time in my head I'm thinking, "I have to start when everyone else starts or I'll finish dead last and everyone will think I'm extremely slow and well, I just have too much pride to endure that AND the run." So on we went to run our race and just as we arrived at the starting line, we were off. I don't really even remember how they started the race, so there probably wasn't an actual gun shot, but you weren't there so I'll just say there was.

Shawn, Maci and I started off together (and a little quicker then I was used to). Instantly, I encouraged Shawn to sashay ahead with the stroller because I could tell this snail's pace was making him antsy. He concurred and quickly bobbed and weaved his way ahead and forged on without me. I was okay with it though because I was actually looking forward to running alone with nothing but my music and the motivational voices in my head. It's how I had trained and it's what I knew. I was good. Then came the hills. I have a little bone to pick with the lovely folks who told me that Lake Harriet is completely flat. It's not. Como Lake is completely flat. Lake Harriet has hills. They probably don't amount to much in terms of elevation, and there were probably a total of two at the very start, but they sure surprised the shit out of me. Like any good cynic, I sputtered a few curse words of shock and awe as I huffed and puffed my way to the top. Ironically, going down was much harder. If there's anything I've learned from training for a 5K it's that pacing yourself is everything and nothing is harder to do then pace yourself down a hill. But I did it. Cause I'm unflappable like that. 

So I'm making my way around this lake and am doing fairly well actually. My breathing is good, my pace is good, my legs feel good, no aches or pains to speak of, mile marker signs are passing. As I'm coming around what looks to be the last turn, I see the 2.5 mile marker sign and in my head, I'm saying, "Hip, hip, hooray! I'm almost there!" Just a little further on, I start to see the band shell come into view. "Sweet, the home stretch!" I kick it up a notch and start to do my version of sprinting at this point. I turn my iPod to Spirit in the Sky and crank it as loud as I can take it. Suddenly, the road turns right. But the band shell is to the left. "Wait. What the… what? Jesus, Joseph and Mary, we're not done?!" Yeah, turns out there's this little oval-shaped outlet you have to follow out and around and then you come back to the damn band shell. De-nied. The race Gods were all like, "Just kidding, HAHA!" To which I was all like, "Bitches." After that nice little surprising kink in the road, I had to take it down a couple of notches back to first gear in order to finish. I was not about to stop or walk so I painfully ran on and when I finally saw the real finish line, I literally gave it everything I had left while I listened to some (Dad-approved) Croce:

"You don't tug on Superman's cape… You don't spit into the wind… You don't pull the mask off that old Lone Ranger… And you don't mess around with Jim" 

It was a hell of way to end a hell of a good race. Although tears managed to prick my eyes several times throughout the run, I did finish the race calm, happy, proud, satisfied and dry-eyed. I did it. I ran a 5K! I had not stopped for 3.2 miles and I was now able to cross a huge accomplishment off my bucket list. Not to mention, I got to do it in memory of one Mark V. Miller, aka Grandpa Miller, aka Dad. I know he was there. I know he was watching. I know he was smiling and beaming with pride. He was present in everything I did and experienced that day, from the sun spirit in the sky to the homemade shirts on our backs. Each training run, as well as the race, was like an extra special little visit I got to share with him. Surprisingly, I miss the anticipation and build up to it all. Not-so-surprisingly, I miss Dad. All the more reason to run on… and dawn the camo!

I, run, weird.

That's one sexy sweaty Mama.

"Mama you stink. Here, smell this."

Caught Grandpa watching.

Hydrate, hydrate, hydrate!

The infamous band shell.

Aint that the truth.

The results! I believe there were 121 people that ran the race total so not too shabby a showing for my first time I'd say. The columns from left to right are: place, participant's number, name, age group, sex, total time and average mile time. Two things: my photography skills need some work so you'll need to know I averaged around a 10-minute mile and yes, Shawn was in the 20-somethings and I was in the 30-somethings. The bastard reminds me daily. December cannot come soon enough.

Shawn pushed Maci in the stroller.

I pushed… nothing but air.

On a serious note, thank you again to everyone who donated to the cause! Team Camo raised $1,466 to help SAVE's mission. I'm SO done crying for the night so I'll just say that this was WAY beyond my initial $500 goal and the simple gestures, comments and donations touched my very soul as this whole process was one of the single most humbling experiences I've ever had. Coincidentally, donations can be received until Friday, August 31st so feel free to visit the link at the top right of this page if you didn't get a chance to earlier. More importantly, continue the conversation about mental health, depression and suicide. It's time to erase the stigma and help find a solution!

To that end, Team DeBoer is pretty certain this will become a yearly tradition so feel free to join us next time around. It's quite an eventful morning with the race, the walk, free food / balloons / face painting / chair massages, there's inflatables for the kids and games for the adults and then there's the raffle. We lovingly donated 10 bucks each to try and win some Twins tickets. We lost. Oh well, the Twins suck this year. You know who doesn't suck? Us… cause we can run like the wind blows!