Sunday Update (Flu Shots and Bathrooms and Wild Things)
Seasonal flu shots are finally done (4 people, 3 days, 3 different venues, 1 free, 1 full price, 2 covered partially by 'gold-plated' insurance, all scheduled then re-scheduled due to immuno-suppressed and immuno-compromised people in house). Now all we have to do is do it all over again for H1N1, possibly with 6 shots this time, if the CDC concludes that children need 2 each. Yay! The local health office has some vaccine available; only the nasal spray is left (not recommended for immuno-compromised people and those around them) and the hours are almost all weekday. Sob.
Meanwhile, #1 son (vaccinated 1 week ago) has cough, slight fever, headache...need I go on? Many possibilities, most benign. Already started the 'what if' planning if staying home from school seems warranted.
Any icon whizzes out there up for a nice Dr. Franklin in scrubs shot, with a 'Get Vaccinated!' message?
Bathroom pictures are behind the cut. It's really hard to take good pictures of a small enclosed space like a bathroom. The problem with my 1970's American suburban bath was the dated fixtures (brass mostly, with some chrome replacements) and flooring (left that for now) and color schemes (harvest gold and off-white and wood). I couldn't afford a full re-model, so we worked with color and fixtures. I took my inspiration from a small rug I purchased a couple of years ago, and bought stuff all over the web and discount stores to pull it together. See below if interested.
The colors were Hot Pepper for the accent walls around the shower and window, Craftsman White for the other walls (this is yellowish under the amber glass of the light fixtures), and Lemongrass (yellow/green) for the window frame and inside door (this ties it to the rug and the hallway which is green). The fixtures are oil-rubbed bronze which is the only finish I could find that wouldn't screamingly clash with the harvest gold of the shower surround and toilet, and still fit in with the almond sink (what were they thinking?) and all the wood cabinets and baseboards and shutters. My mom bought the little bronze dragonfly hooks for the boys' towels (we live in hope that they will learn to use them), and the robe hook is on the wall behind the door now. There's no room for a towel rod, really. It's not a large space. The original lights above the sink were brass, a square box that surrounded the large flat mirror and had little bright accent lights all the way around. Twinkly! Half the fixtures were brass, cracked and worn by time and use, the other half chrome replacements. The shutters covered both top and bottom windows.
Lastly, we went to Where the Wild Things Are yesterday. I heartily recommend it, although I will say it drags a bit towards the end. I can't sort out the complex emotions the story arouses, since Wild Things is intrinsically linked to my boys' childhoods and being a parent and lots of deep things that are hard to articulate. I wonder how it will play to those who don't have their parental or childhood feelings yanked; if any of you fall into that category and see it, please let me know.
Spoilers ahead for those who don't know the story.
The Wild Things are beautifully brought to life, and while there is always loss when Things are named and defined and pinned down, the characters fit the story very well and are well-rounded and likable and real, if a little depressed. We argued amiably over which one represented what or whom. Is Carol an avatar of Max or his sister Claire? Is KW meant to be Claire, or Max's mother? There are many ways to look at them, which leaves some mystery and magic intact. #2 son liked the Wild Things, and cried when Max had to leave them. #1 son liked the mother-son relationship, and kept poking me 'that's you!' and 'that's me!' I mourned Max's unhappiness and empathized with his mother's inability to cope, and saw #2 son in Max's stories and #1 son in Max's growth and understanding. That's the mark of universal appeal, that is.
The mix of puppetry and animatronics and visual effects is terrific. The story is really too dark (the book rejoices in Max's wildness a lot more), and does seem more geared to adults than children. Bits are quite scary, but I don't mind that for kids. Childhood is scary, lots of times. They made a compelling story from a ten sentence book, an accomplishment in and of itself.
I did wonder about the owls. It made me think of Twin Peaks, and some of the dark weirdness felt like that. And that's not for kids.
The ending I found unsatisfying as well. The whole point of the book is that you can venture out into the scary outside world, or the scary interior world of your own wildness, and still come home where dinner is waiting. Here Max ends up almost the adult at the end. It was odd.
I want the soundtrack. That's always a very good sign.
Meanwhile, #1 son (vaccinated 1 week ago) has cough, slight fever, headache...need I go on? Many possibilities, most benign. Already started the 'what if' planning if staying home from school seems warranted.
Any icon whizzes out there up for a nice Dr. Franklin in scrubs shot, with a 'Get Vaccinated!' message?
Bathroom pictures are behind the cut. It's really hard to take good pictures of a small enclosed space like a bathroom. The problem with my 1970's American suburban bath was the dated fixtures (brass mostly, with some chrome replacements) and flooring (left that for now) and color schemes (harvest gold and off-white and wood). I couldn't afford a full re-model, so we worked with color and fixtures. I took my inspiration from a small rug I purchased a couple of years ago, and bought stuff all over the web and discount stores to pull it together. See below if interested.
The colors were Hot Pepper for the accent walls around the shower and window, Craftsman White for the other walls (this is yellowish under the amber glass of the light fixtures), and Lemongrass (yellow/green) for the window frame and inside door (this ties it to the rug and the hallway which is green). The fixtures are oil-rubbed bronze which is the only finish I could find that wouldn't screamingly clash with the harvest gold of the shower surround and toilet, and still fit in with the almond sink (what were they thinking?) and all the wood cabinets and baseboards and shutters. My mom bought the little bronze dragonfly hooks for the boys' towels (we live in hope that they will learn to use them), and the robe hook is on the wall behind the door now. There's no room for a towel rod, really. It's not a large space. The original lights above the sink were brass, a square box that surrounded the large flat mirror and had little bright accent lights all the way around. Twinkly! Half the fixtures were brass, cracked and worn by time and use, the other half chrome replacements. The shutters covered both top and bottom windows.
Lastly, we went to Where the Wild Things Are yesterday. I heartily recommend it, although I will say it drags a bit towards the end. I can't sort out the complex emotions the story arouses, since Wild Things is intrinsically linked to my boys' childhoods and being a parent and lots of deep things that are hard to articulate. I wonder how it will play to those who don't have their parental or childhood feelings yanked; if any of you fall into that category and see it, please let me know.
Spoilers ahead for those who don't know the story.
The Wild Things are beautifully brought to life, and while there is always loss when Things are named and defined and pinned down, the characters fit the story very well and are well-rounded and likable and real, if a little depressed. We argued amiably over which one represented what or whom. Is Carol an avatar of Max or his sister Claire? Is KW meant to be Claire, or Max's mother? There are many ways to look at them, which leaves some mystery and magic intact. #2 son liked the Wild Things, and cried when Max had to leave them. #1 son liked the mother-son relationship, and kept poking me 'that's you!' and 'that's me!' I mourned Max's unhappiness and empathized with his mother's inability to cope, and saw #2 son in Max's stories and #1 son in Max's growth and understanding. That's the mark of universal appeal, that is.
The mix of puppetry and animatronics and visual effects is terrific. The story is really too dark (the book rejoices in Max's wildness a lot more), and does seem more geared to adults than children. Bits are quite scary, but I don't mind that for kids. Childhood is scary, lots of times. They made a compelling story from a ten sentence book, an accomplishment in and of itself.
I did wonder about the owls. It made me think of Twin Peaks, and some of the dark weirdness felt like that. And that's not for kids.
The ending I found unsatisfying as well. The whole point of the book is that you can venture out into the scary outside world, or the scary interior world of your own wildness, and still come home where dinner is waiting. Here Max ends up almost the adult at the end. It was odd.
I want the soundtrack. That's always a very good sign.