MJ Monday: MJ’s Movies-Love in the Afternoon

My husband wanted to clear out his DVR player, and this 1957 classic was on there. I mostly loved it.

Audrey Hepburn, Gary Cooper, Maurice Chevalier–a very nice cast, although Cooper was a little too old to be playing the love interest. There was an ick factor there. Other than that, it was lovely romantic comedy.

Hepburn was stunning and amazing as always. I prefer Chevalier as an older actor than a younger one, so I thought he was marvelous here as Hepburn’s father.  Cooper is a wonderful actor and didn’t disappoint in this…except for the age thing.

Chevalier plays a private detective who is investigating an American playboy (Cooper). His daughter, played by Hepburn, becomes fascinated with the subject of her father’s investigation.

The film does offer the requisite happily ever after ending.

Four stars.

MJ Monday: MJ’s Movies-The Big Lebowski

Several years ago, a supervisor at my Day Job mentioned a long sweater I kept in at my work cubicle. He called it my Big Lebowski sweater. I had no idea what he was talking about. He said, “Really? You should watch the movie. You’ll love it.”

I hate being predictable.

A few years later, a co-worker made an obscure reference to the movie, then said, “You’ve never seen it? I’m shocked. You’d love it.”

I really hate being that predictable. 

I mentioned these conversations to my husband at some later date. He said, “Oh, I have it here. I’ve been meaning to watch it. How about tonight?”

We laughed our butts off.

The Big Lebowski is a movie you either love or hate. I tried to share it with my critique group, but they got twitchy only a few minutes in.

According to the Internet Movie Database:

Jeff “The Dude” Lebowski, mistaken for a millionaire of the same name, seeks restitution for his ruined rug and enlists his bowling buddies to help get it.

The movie is so much more. There’s a pot head, a convert to Judaism with anger issues, a bowling league,  a slutty trophy wife,  nihilists, and a couple of guys who pee on rugs.

The cast is incredible: Jeff Bridges, John Goodman, Sam Elliot, Julianne Moore, Steve Buscemi, Philip Seymour Hoffman, and John Turturro. The amazing Cohen Brothers wrote and directed it.

It’s definitely a cult classic.

The Dude abides.

My Stupidest Injury

A few months ago, someone on Facebook asked, “What was your stupidest self-inflicted injury?”

I didn’t even need to think about it.

When I was three or four, I had my three pet toads (1 big one, 2 little ones) in one of those big, barrel-shaped pickle jars. My dad had helped me poke holes in the lid with a hammer and nail.

It was a Sunday. After church. We were getting ready to sit down for dinner, when my mother very unreasonably declared my toads could not be at the kitchen table with us. In fact, they didn’t belong in the kitchen. I was to take them to the back porch.

The cinderblock chimney was right there. I thrust down the jar of toads. The glass shattered. My toads were getting away! I started crying. I wanted my toads. My mother started yelling. I looked down. Oops. There was a huge bleeding gap on my left knee. I don’t remember pain. I remember my toads escaping.

My dad drove me back to town. Someone must have called Dr. Opalot, because he was in his office, waiting for us, on a Sunday afternoon. He must have numbed my knee before he started stitching, but I don’t remember. What I remember about that is it tickled. Turns out I have ridiculously ticklish knee caps. I kept twitching my leg, and the doctor would tell me to be still. “But it tickles!” I said. He laughed. He told me that was the first time anyone had ever told him getting sewn up tickled.

It took five stitches in my 3 or 4 year old knee to close the gash. I carry the scar to this day.

If only my mom hadn’t been so unreasonable about toads at the dinner table.

#UpbeatAuthors: The Road to Publication

The month’s #UpbeatAuthors topic is perseverance. When I think of perseverance, I think about how long it took me to write a book a publisher felt was worthy of publication. I think about other authors, who never gave up, whether it was to sign contracts with traditional publishers, small-press independent publishers, or who decided (sometimes after decades of rejections) to self-publish.

Members of my RWA chapter have come and gone. Several of us stuck around until the industry changed. The others must have been hobbyists, because they surrendered.

A few of my friends haven’t had contracts renewed. Or their lines have closed. Instead of giving up, they’ve sought new ways of getting their work to their readers. Or they’ve decided now is the time for me to reinvent my product the way I want it done. And they are succeeding.

Because they hung in there.