In the summer, when I actually have time to watch television, nothing is on. So last night we went to another movie. This time it was the latest Indiana Jones flick. We weren't expecting much since the reviews hadn't been great, but it was fun. Since it was a Monday night, we had the theatre practically to ourselves (only four others came in). Of course, the movie logic was absent, but hey, it's summer, it's Indiana Jones, and all we wanted was to be entertained.
I do have to confess that I'm not a big fan of Shia Leboef (or however his name is spelled). He lacks screen presence to me. But it's hard to knock John Hurt in any role. He simply bowled me over in the movie version of 1984 and I've watched for him in roles ever since. Kate Blanchett was practically unrecognizable as the dastardly female villain, but once again, the real villain was the supposed friend who was a traitor. Of course he was fat. The worst villains are never normally weighted people. They're always fat or Cruella-DeVille skinny.
It's no wonder children will go off with strangers. Hollywood teaches them that "bad guys" will look different. They will be abnormal in some obvious, physical way. Sadly, the abnormality that is really scary can't be seen on the outside, and that's the sociopathic person's advantage. He (or she) can be handsome or beautiful on the outside (think Ted Bundy), but very twisted inside. I suppose there are sociopaths who never commit crimes or hurt others, but once again, if I rely upon Hollywood to teach me, what I learn is that sociopaths are not only pretty common, but they always want to murder and mutilate as their hobby of choice. I suppose none of them take up chess or stamp-collecting.
On a totally different subject, with my usual lack of subtle segue, we're having some work done on the house. For years we've been plagued with water in the basement whenever it rains or when snow melts. So yesterday, these two guys came from a company called EverDry. Talk, talk, talk. The larger guy had his spiel and he was not to be deterred from one line of it. He was good at what he did, I'll admit, but I could tell that it was a turn-off for my husband. Nevertheless, we do need something done in the basement before we even try to sell the house, so we signed up. It's going to take financing, alas, and we do also have some people coming to replace the gutters and put screens on them. (At present, there are hundreds of tiny maple trees growing in the gutters.) They're going to install more downspouts to direct water away from the house. The EverDry people assure us that we won't even need gutters once their system is in place, but I don't like to see water fall straight down off the roof in sheets onto a deck that's already rotting.
That's the one home improvement chore that I wish we could do--replace the deck with a good old-fashioned porch. It would be much more useful to us. But unless we make the certain commitment to stay in this house, I doubt we'll do any more projects. I plan to turn the room downstairs that was a bedroom into my craft room, once it's dry and I won't have to worry about squishy carpet. But other than that, we're going to wait till the housing market isn't so soft, maybe do some cosmetic fixes in the kitchen, and call ourselves done.
Given all these projects, a condo in a high-rise is starting to look mighty good right now. Of course, with my fear of heights, I wouldn't want to be any higher than the third floor. I'm just imagining what would happen if there was a fire. With my abundant size, I'd kill any fire rescue workers who tried to get me out down some shaky little ladder. I don't have Hollywood at my side, like Indiana Jones, who apparently can be a sedentary college professor in his sixties, yet still take a beating that would kill a normal man, as well as dish one out. Without blood, bruises, scratches, or abrasions. Heck, there was even one machine-gunning sequence in which the victims had to be drug from the road so the jeeps could go through, and none of the dead had any blood showing. No blood on the road. Maybe they were shot with bullets full of blood-clotting chemicals, a la Andromeda Strain.
Later in the week we'll probably try to go to see Incredible Hulk. Once again, just for the entertainment value. I've gotten where I avoid books or movies with "depth" simply because I can't bear to be depressed or forced to feel strong emotions. I've had too many real strong emotions, what with the many deaths in the family, the many illnesses, the many problems. It's no longer "fun" for me to have my mind pushed into painful places. It feels too much like sliding down a hill of razor blades into a pool of alcohol. The war, the weakening economy, the crime that is increasing in our area, the hopelessness that I see in the faces of people who have lost their homes to foreclosure, flooding, fire (why do so many bad words start with the letter "f"?).... To be honest, it's just too damned painful to be alive in this Bush era (soon, thank goodness, to be ending) for me to seek out anything voluntary to add to the anguish.
All that doom and gloom, with a day so beautiful outside that it should be cloned. S.
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