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Wrist to Forehead Sunday: Oscar Edition

Like I know anything about the Oscars.  My husband, Steven, has always been a big Oscar fan and is quite knowledgeable about The Academy.  As regular readers know, I am more enamored of old cheesy horror movies.  Oh, I like some Oscar movies.  In fact, of recent movies, I certainly like Oscar movies better than huge, effects-heavy actioners or superhero movies, or asinine comedies replete with toilet humor.  I can’t say I’m a snob, given my love of William Castle and Roger Corman.  Let’s say my tastes are.. not mainstream.

All that said, when we had a chance to see all or most of the main Oscar nominees, we did.  Ever since we returned to the Mohawk Valley, however, it has not been so easy.  Sometimes it just seems such an effort to get to the area cinemas, even when they show the films we want to see.  Munson Williams shows movies, but even getting to Utica can be problematic, especially given Steven’s work hours.

Oh, don’t accuse me of whining. I suppose I am whining, but I don’t mean to be. After all, one does not whine on Wrist to Forehead Sunday.  One swoons, in a dramatic fashion, the back of one’s wrist against one’s forehead, because life has become too much to be borne.  Alas!  Alack the day! You call that whining?  I call that an honest, if slightly exaggerated, response to the trauma of life.

So, on the brighter side, I get to stay up and watch the Oscars, because I have tomorrow off.  Normally I go to bed early on Sunday, to recruit my energies for the week ahead.  Additionally, I have taken two short naps today.  I feel in fine, TV-viewing fettle.  On the dimmer side, I have not seen any of the moves nominated, and I don’t even know most of the stars, especially since we let our subscription to Entertainment Weekly lapse (we found ourselves increasingly less entertained by it).

Back on the brighter side, I hear Steven washing the dishes, so I don’t have to do it.  That’s pretty nice of him on his Fabulous Four-Day Birthday Weekend.  That’s more on the brighter side than on the dimmer.  Maybe I should peel my wrist off my forehead and get back to enjoying my Sunday.  In the meantime, how about an Oscar nomination for that swoon?


I Think I’m Rubbed Out

Nobody thought I would not have a Wrist to Forehead Sunday today, least of all me.  I’m TIRED!  We had a wonderful show last night.  The audience loved us!  And we loved the audience!

I am speaking, of course, of Rubbed Out at Ruby’s, the interactive murder mystery presented by LiFT Theatre Company at the Overlook Mansion in Little Falls.  They served hors d’oeuvres catered by That Little Place on Main, and they were, you should pardon the expression, to die for.  Of course, I did not eat a lot.  I was busy acting.

Now I must gear up for a bear of a week, that is, production week for Steel Magolias at Ilion Little Theatre.  Opening night is March 3.  Yikes!  I don’t think I even have all my costumes together, but I am working on it.   Additionally, I must finish writing, cast and begin rehearsals for not one but two murder mystery dinner theatres.  If anybody says, “Well, you’d better get writing,” I’ll scream.

In the meantime, it is Oscar night, traditionally a big night in our humble household.  My dear husband, Steven, has watched them every year since 1965.  In previous years we have had better luck in catching more of the nominated pictures.  Additionally, in previous years I have not been in the habit of going to bed as early as a much older woman or a little kid.  I do not apologize for my nocturnal habits but merely note them.

Well, one can’t do everything after all.  I write, I participate in community theatre, I work full time, and I get what sleep I can.  Additionally, I intend to start running again.  I do not have time to go to movies that tend not to play around here in the first place.  Clean my house?  Who brought that up?  And what are you implying?

I say never mind all that.  Sunday is traditionally a day Steven and I spend time together.  I am going to hit Publish and get back to him.  As a closing note, here is the final cast picture of the marvelous actors of Rubbed Out at Ruby’s.  Happy Sunday, everyone.


What a crew!

I’d Like to Thank the Academy

The Oscars are kind of a big deal at our house. Specifically they are a big deal to my husband, Steven. He has watched them every year for — wait for it — 50 years. Yes, this was his 50th consecutive year of watching the Oscars. I’m a little embarrassed to admit I went to bed, but this isn’t about me (yes, it’s my blog about by life, and in general it is all about me, we’ll get back to that tomorrow.).

Steven and I both love movies. I think my tastes run a little shallower than his (hey, I haven’t written about a cheesy movie in a long time, I’ll have to do something about that), but I often appreciate a movie of Oscar caliber. Sad to say, in recent years we have not seen many of the nominees before the ceremony. In our defense… oh, it’s tiresome to list all our reasons, just excuse our slackness in that area.

I was happy to hear that the guy from the Farmer’s Insurance commercials won. J.K. Simmons, I know his name. I liked him before those commercials.

The real reason I’m writing this post, though, is because I saw an acceptance speech shared on Facebook and I’m going to share it again here. Graham Moore, the writer for The Imitation Game, said the following:

“In this brief time here, what I want to use it to do is to say this: When I was 16 years old, I tried to kill myself because I felt weird and I felt different and I felt like I did not belong. And now, I’m standing here and I would like for this moment to be for that kid out there who feels like she’s weird or she’s different or she doesn’t fit in anywhere: Yes, you do. I promise you do. You do. Stay weird, stay different. And then, when it’s your turn and you are standing on this stage, please pass the same message to the next person who comes along.”

I know Steven heard it because he saw the ceremony, but I had to read it out loud to him anyways. I teared up. What a kind, wise, wonderful thing to say. I wanted to share it. I don’t really have anything to add to it, but I guess I don’t have to. Happy Monday, everyone.

No Brain for the Oscars

I believe I mentioned yesterday that I have had a few Mohawk Valley adventures I intend to write about. I hope nobody was looking forward to that too eagerly, because today is Wrist to Forehead Sunday. I’m sitting at my computer, typing this off the top of my head and it is not going to be very long.

I am not actually in distress, as Wrist to Forehead may imply (I’m probably not a beautiful maiden, either, but whatever) (you know, from the fairy tales: beautiful maiden in distress? So much for literary references). I am actually having quite an enjoyable weekend. As I mentioned, it is my husband’s birthday weekend. We both have three days off. We like to have days off together.

So why am I not writing a real post, which might even take less time than trying to come up with excuses why I’m not? I say, that is a good question. I guess the only answer is that my brain is not in gear. It may not even be in my head (it made kind of a hollow sound when I tapped it just now) (just kidding; I didn’t really tap myself on the head, I thought it would be funny to pretend I did).

One reason I need to get this post written is that I have snacks to fix. It is Oscar Day, the movie buff’s equivalent of Superbowl Sunday. I have not seen any of the movies nominated, or in fact, any movie made within the past ten years. Well, at least three, anyways. But you know me, any excuse to fix yummy snacks. I may even write a post on what I fix. But not today. Happy Sunday, everyone.