Tuesday? Nooooo, not Tuesday! Anything but Tuesday!

Well, will you look at that.  Is that what I think it is?  Oh, yes it is.  It’s a Razzleberry pie.  Creepy old chef with the rheumy eyes from The Shining came through.  Or maybe Darling Husband came through.  Either way, by the time I’m done writing this blog it will be baked and ready to serve.

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I suppose those of you who know me might have wondered what possessed me (excuse the pun) to watch The Shining.

I’m kinda wondering what possessed me to watch The Shining as well.  I don’t do so well with scary movies.  In fact, they tend to torment me for years afterward.  I’ve written about it before so I won’t bother writing about it again.

What happened was that a friend mentioned something along the lines of how watching The Shining as a parent was different from watching before having children.  I asked what he meant being that I’ve never seen it.  He said, “Just watch it and see.”

So I did.

In silence.

No, I wasn’t the one being silent.  I watched the movie with the volume turned almost completely down.  We all know that scary movies aren’t scary without their soundtrack.  Consider this:

There’s little Danny riding his big wheel around and around the corners of the hallways in the empty hotel.  You know, you just know, that the ghosty girls are going to show up around the next corner asking for their playdate.  Then, just when you can hardly stand the suspense, the music lets out a big screech, the screen goes completely black and the word TUESDAY appears in big white letters and I swear, it makes you squawk in horror:  No, not Tuesday!  Anything but Tuesday!  Ahhhhh!

And then again on THURSDAY.  Oh, just stop!  My poor frayed nerves just can’t handle this.  That’s when I turned down the volume.

The thing is, nothing was happening.  Nothing at all.  Just this little kid riding around on his big wheel or some guy typing at a typewriter.  It’s all about the suspenseful music and loud crescendos.

But I understand what Victor meant.  As a parent you wanted to scoop little Danny up in your arms and say, “There, there, it’ll be ok.”  And they put him in the most adorable little outfits.  Mickey Mouse sweaters with little plaid shirts and red sneakers.  Oh, those red sneakers.  Adorable.  I even felt sorry for the creepy ghosty girls.  Poor little dead things.

Anyway, now I finally understand why Scott took one look at the typewriter in my living room and gleefully typed, “All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy” over and over and over.  And if he does it again, I’m kicking him out immediately.  Don’t be making my innocent typewriter act all creepy like that.

Maybe it’s because I don’t watch many scary movies but this one has stuck with me and not just because I can’t walk around the house alone anymore.  Mostly I’m just trying to figure out what it all meant.  Apparently, no one can figure out what it all meant, because Victor then told me to watch the documentary which tries to figure out what it all meant.

But I’m not taking Victor’s recommendations for movies anymore, so I guess I’ll never know.

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Practicing with my new lens:

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