Ten of my Favorite Houses on Film

I am my mother's daughter.

I realized that this last weekend when she was staying with me for Mother's Day and we were trying to pick out a movie to doze to for the afternoon.

"Let's watch Pride and Prejudice," she suggested.  And throughout the movie, we not only commented on how good it was...but we pretty much drooled over the house that Elizabeth Bennet lived in, the enormous trees that surrounded it, and all of the amazing colors inside - chipped paint and all.

I've known this about myself for some time - that I will happily sit down and watch a not-so-great movie as long as the characters live in a great house.  I squirm through Legends of the Fall and overlook that it is, in fact, the most depressing movie ever made...mainly because the house that they live in up in Montana was so incredible (at the beginning of the movie before all of the death and liquor-running and stuff).  I will watch some movies over and over again, trying to pinpoint exactly what it is that I like about each house and what draws me to it.  A Southern girl at heart, a good porch is a must...but other than that, my tastes vary.

So here is my list.  I didn't go back as far as Gone with the Wind or The Philadelphia Story - so most of these are relatively recent.  They're not in any particular order and I could no more pick my favorite house than I could my favorite child.  But should I win the Powerball, I plan on buying or constructing replicas of all ten.

And Mom...this one's for you.

~

Okay, so Bewitched wasn't the best movie ever.  The only things that saved it were Will Ferrell (because he's hilarious in anything), Nicole Kidman's wardrobe, and this house.  I daresay that is it every single woman's dream to live there and not just because of the cute exterior, but for the shabby chic interior as well.  I mean, who would pass up having a glass of wine with their buddies in a room like this? 

~

I choose to ignore the fact that Steve Martin kind gets kind of screwed over in It's Complicated (I hate it when that happens to the good guys) because this house and I were meant to be together.  It would almost be worth it to put up with Alec Baldwin for a while if it meant that you got this (or the money to help to buy it) in the divorce settlement.  I'd spend a few years with him just to get that swing hanging from the tree.

Way to go, Meryl. 

~

This one is going to seem random for some of you because it comes from one of my favorite (but seldom seen) movies of all-time.  The house in Crimes of the Heart has porches all over the exterior, a fabulous staircase, and a room big enough to hold three girls as they were growing up.  It's old, looks creaky, and I would take it in a heartbeat.

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I was surprised at how much I loved the house in The Holiday - not the cute English cottage, but the more modern place that Cameron Diaz lives in in L.A.  It's probably the kitchen that won me over (that's usually the case), but I'll take the relaxing bedroom with the blackout curtains and the enormous screening room any day.

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I'll admit it.  The June Cleaver in me wants this house.  I don't think I'd feel up to hosting a whole wedding there, but the house in Father of the Bride is the quintessential happy family home.  All I keep wondering is if the two older kids are bitter about the "baby suite" Steve Martin and Diane Keaton add on for that third kid in the second movie.  I know I wouldn't have let my parents forget that I grew up in some regular bedroom.

 ~

Okay, so I'm widowed.  I've had the nervous breakdown.  What I'm missing is the house that Diane Lane renovates in Under the Tuscan Sun.  Don't we all owe it to ourselves, when the going gets tough, to pack up and move to a gorgeous house in Italy where we can learn how to cook for a few quirky repairmen and ultimately find love with a writer who just happens to be passing through?

~

This one is an oldie (relatively speaking), but goodie.  Again, the house in Practical Magic got to me because of the kitchen.  But it seems to have so many hidden nooks and crannies that it would be a dream to live in (but not to clean).  Yes, there's all kinds of witchcraft going on in there, but who wouldn't like a potion that you could put in some maple syrup to make people go away???  C'mon, people.  How handy would that be?

~

This movie depresses the hell out of me, but I stick with it every time because of the house that Susan Sarandon lives in in Stepmom.  I can handle her treating Julia Roberts badly just as long as she takes care of that house....

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Any time you mention the movie The Proposal, the first thing that almost anyone says (women and

the men who were forced to go see it with them) is, "Can you believe that house??"  Actually, compound seems more appropriate.  It is enormous and in the movie is set on its own island.  Yes, that would make grocery shopping a pain, but who cares?  You'd have an island!

~

This is just a great movie in general, but the fact that we have Keanu Reeves and this little vacation home in The Hamptons to drool over doesn't hurt.  Yes, I loved the kitchen again.  And the dining room, bedrooms, all of the living spaces, and every corner of this house.  Now about that Powerball ticket....

Annoying Online Quotes & Why I'm Turning into my Grandmother

I know that probably no one else in this world notices this except me, but all of those images of quotes online are really annoying.

It's not the quotes themselves - it's the grammar.

Yes, I did just say that.  And now that I think about it...I have a cousin on the East Coast who is probably annoyed with this as well (and looking at my own grammar as he's reading my blog).

I'm turning into my late grandmother, a woman I loved dearly and who always answered my questions in a way I never expected.  As a child I asked why she watched soap operas because she never seemed to enjoy them.  She always sat in her chair, her head shaking in disappointment, watching show after show. And her response was this:

"I watch for the fashion.  And because they never use the correct grammar."

At the time, I thought it was ridiculous that she would sit there and critique the grammar of two people who were in the throes of passion or take anything seriously on a show that used the names Blade or Thunder.  But as I've gotten older...I can understand her frustration.

As a person who often uses quotes as part of her online community of widows and widowers, I struggle to find those images that will say what needs to be said, whether it is inspirational or humorous, and does it in a way that won't completely embarrass me when I put it out there.  And as someone who likes to look for the "funny" in life and that often comes in the form of a well-written quote...I often forget to laugh and instead shake my head like my grandmother used to when someone doesn't know that "outhouse" is one word.

It's getting very time-consuming, editing these images in my head and trying to find at least one that uses correct punctuation or knows the difference between "to" and "too."  If, in your quote, you are having a "hard time catching your breath" - please don't put an "e" on the end of that word.  If you're "trying to breathe" - go ahead and tack it on there.  I know you're dying to.

But perhaps the one thing that gets to me the most is the capitalization.  For all of you out there who are taking the time to put together these little images and send them out into the world, I have this to say to you (and yes, I'm going to type-yell):

STOP CAPITALIZING THE FIRST LETTER OF THE WORDS YOU THINK ARE IMPORTANT.

It makes You Look Stupid.

This blog will only be funny to a handful of people out there and we will be the first to admit that we are complete nerds.  I mean, for me this would be like someone blogging about some funny math equation that they think everyone should get and all I can think while I'm reading it is, "Huh?"

But then again, I'm not taking the time to put together images of math equations for the world to see.

That would just make me look like an idiot.

Online Dating: Don't You Want To Get With THIS?

"A picture is worth a thousand words" - or so the saying goes.  But I have found that usually the picture can be summed up in five.

"What the hell is that?"

It's always been interesting to me, the pictures that people put up on Facebook, Twitter, and LinkenIn that they think best represents them.  But nothing is more fascinating to me than the pictures people put up when they're looking for romance (or something), introducing themselves in a way that they think says, "Don't you want to get with this?"

Anyone who knows me already knows that I have always found the internet dating world an interesting place.  I'm a people watcher, but I'm also lazy so online dating means that I can make fun

of people without even leaving the house.  I am simultaneously engrossed and grossed out and cannot seem to avert my eyes from the train wreck that comes from people who are wookin' pa nub (a la Eddie Murphy) in all the weird places.

First of all, the background of your picture says a lot about you.  If you're taking a self-portrait in your car, it makes me wonder if you're living in it.  If you're standing on top of a mountain, I'm worried you're going to make me climb it.  If you are taking your own picture in the mirror of your bathroom, clean it up...because I'm sure as hell not going to do it for you.  And if you decide to take your picture in front of the neon Busch Light sign you have hanging in your living room, I am going to give you a pass.

I don't want that shit in my house.

Guys need to be more careful about what they're doing in the picture that they're posting as well.   When you're taking your picture in the mirror and completely block out your face, we wonder if you're wanted by the Feds or just plain stupid.  If you're wearing waders and holding an enormous fish we wonder if you're going to make us clean it (and if you're actually trying to attract a woman or another man).  If your picture indicates that you're in law enforcement, we wonder if we've met you before but just didn't recognize you because all we saw was the back of your head through the grate separating us.  And when you pose in a dark suit with sunglasses on, cigarette in one hand and an automatic rifle in the other...we're not quite sure if you'll be good with kids so you might be out.

And then there is, of course, the username that you came up with - the one that tells us little more about you.  And believe me...I'm grateful for how honest you are because it stops me before I answer that virtual "wink."  And I sincerely apologize to the following men who have not heard back from me:

ooooooo
BigJohnson
Chops
Dickhead (yes, I'm serious)
Caveman
KissThiss (with photo of a man who looks like he's smelling something foul)
2sexy4u (with a photo that makes me doubt that that's actually true)

I've heard the phrase "every squirrel finds its nut" when referring to love and I believe that it's true because I've seen it in action.  But there have been many times that I've looked at someone's profile and the witty usernames that go with them and all I can think of is one question.

What kind of a squirrel is going to go out with that nut?

My Love Affair With Sirius

A couple of months ago, I gave up my old family truckster (a 10 year old minivan) for a new ride and will admit that I was less excited about the functionality of the car and more enthusiastic about having a stereo that actually had an input for my MP3 player.

I am a girl, after all, and we all know that the most important thing to many females is the color of the car and the stereo.  So there you have it.

But my relationship with my new auxiliary input wasn't meant to be.  Because I was enticed by a newer, flashier form of listening pleasure.

Sirius XM radio.

"Wait until you get used to it," my sister said when I told her I had gotten a free three month trial subscription.  "You'll never want to give it up."

Certain that my heart would remain with my own mix of music that I had downloaded over the years, I rolled my eyes at her.  And then it happened.

I cheated on my MP3 player.

It all started with the 80s on 8, a running commercial-free stream of songs from my youth, complete with the old MTV VJs (that's Video Jockey for those of you who are too young to remember what MTV used to be like).  Listening to Nina Blackwood announce a song by Pat Benatar in a voice that sounded like she hasn't taken a breath of clean air in 30 years was like coming home - a big haired, Aqua Netted, ripped jean home.  Every song had a memory from my childhood attached to it and I found myself saying to my kids over and over, "You should have seen the video for this song!  It was bitchin'!"

Okay, I didn't actually say the word "bitchin'" to my kids.  But I was thinking it.

But I knew I had found true love when I tuned into the 90s on 9, songs from middle school, high school, and college that I was surprised to realize I remembered all of the words to.

But not as surprised as I was at the words themselves.

I don't know if I wasn't paying attention or I was just plain naive, but I don't think I really realized what I was dancing to at all of those fraternity parties years ago.  I guess if it had a good beat, I went with it.  But nothing makes you stand up and take notice of these things...like having your small children in the car.

"Hey!  Listen to this!"  I exclaimed when I heard the intro to Salt N Pepa's "Shoop" come on.  "I used to love this song!"

I cranked up the volume and started to sing along.  And I think it was around when I started singing

"lick him like a lollipop should be licked" that I realized that this just might not be all that appropriate for my elementary school-aged children.

Shoot.  I don't even know if I was mature enough to listen to it.

That's when I started having flashbacks.

Come Baby Come.

OPP.

Just about anything by Alanis Morrisette, the poster girl for bitter females everywhere - all of the lyrics came flooding back to me in one big sex-crazed decade-long musical.  And that's when I realized that my love affair with Sirius might have to either come to an end...or we would have to keep some parts of our relationship under wraps.

This is new territory for me.  I listen to the things that my kids are tuning into...but they aren't quite to the ages where it's completely offensive.  And yes, it did take me a little longer than most to realize that that song about whistling by Flo Rida wasn't actually about whistling and so maybe I should change the channel.

But here's the thing:  I knew that at some point I would get to the age when I would say in that cranky adult voice, "What is wrong with kids today??  What is that garbage that's on the radio??"

I just had no idea that I would get so old that I would come full circle and actually say, "What is this crap I used to listen to???  It's entirely inappropriate!!"

Now that's old.

Or as EMF would say...it's "Unbelievable."

God vs. Online Dating

I love taking my kids to the bus stop.

There is the obvious reason - that hiss and roar that indicates that my precious children will be at school and learning things that will get them into Harvard (actually, I'm starting to doubt that.  That Everyday Math is one screwy system).  And then there is, of course, that feeling of freedom that comes with seeing the wide, yellow ass of the bus round the corner, taking that beloved cargo with them and leaving me in silence for the rest of the day.

Oh, come on.  You know you all think it, too.

But I also love going to the bus stop because that's where I get the best gossip.  There is usually a pretty good crowd on Friday mornings, so I make an effort to get there.  That's when I find out who's been traveling, what current diseases are circling around my kids at school, and who wants to lock their husbands out for the weekend.

For some reason this morning, the crowd was a little thin (maybe it has to do with all of those diseases circling around) and I was standing there with one of my new neighbors who suddenly became very concerned about the fact that I am single.

"Are you seeing anyone?" she asked out of the blue.

"No," I said.  "But I'm really okay with that right now."

"Let me ask you this," she said, looking intently at my face.  "Have you told God what you want?"

Now, at that moment, I started looking for the nearest exit which was, unfortunately, my house a half a block away.  Not wanting to offend her by running screaming up the street, I put what I hope was a polite half-smile on my face and started inching my way backwards.

"Ah...no.  But, really...I'm okay with being single right now."

"You have to ask God for what you want!" she said emphatically.  "Make a list and tell Him!  That's what I did and that's how I got my husband!"

I didn't think that was the time to tell her that when I was working on my upcoming book, I had originally titled the dating section "Highway to Hell."  And so I kept inching my way closer and closer to my front door and when I finally closed it behind me, I breathed a sigh of relief.

But that conversation got me to thinking.  Is that what we're all doing wrong?  Turning to services like Match.com and eHarmony when what we should really be doing is sending our profiles and pictures to God? 

Dear God,

Attached is my profile where I ask for someone who makes at least minimum wage, has a valid driver's license, and does not wear platform shoes.  I know that this picture of me is a little old and I'm 10 pounds heavier now.  That doesn't count as a lie...does it?

Do those people who have their information on Christian Mingle have a leg up on the people who list with Plenty of Fish?  What about that FarmersOnly.com?  Do they get a better divine response than the people who are using It's Just Lunch?

I'm having visions of getting on my knees every night, folding my hands, closing my eyes, and begging God to bring me the last decent man left on Earth.  And then the heavens opening up and God (who suddenly looks a little like Joaquin Phoenix during his rapper phase) saying, "Fear not, my child.  I will bestoweth upon you a man who will bring you flowers at least twice a year and unclog your toilet when necessary.  Your prayers have been answered.

Now, leave me alone so I can deal with Congress."

An Imaginary Significant Other. Genius

image from gawker.com

It's been a long time since I've had an imaginary friend - at least 2 years - and I know from experience that they can be nice to have around.  For one, they never argue with you and always want to do what you want to do.  If one of your pesky "real" friends comes up with a plan you don't want to do, you can always back out saying that you have plans with Jarvis, your imaginary friend.  And then, when you're a child, there's the obvious - "I didn't make that mess.  Jarvis did it."

But in all of my wild imagining, I never thought to create an imaginary significant other.  And now I feel like I've really missed out on something.

As the whole world knows, Manti Te'o of the Notre Dame football team made news this morning because of his girlfriend.  Or his lack thereof.

After meeting in 2009, the two apparently hit it off as friends and carried on a long-term, long-distance relationship until her untimely death in the Fall of 2012.  His heart broken, Te'o continued to play the season in her memory and was covered by the national media as a remarkable man going through unimaginable loss.

Ah HA!  But was it, in fact, imagined?

The holes in his story began to emerge just before Christmas, apparently, and reached a climax this week.  And all I can say about that is that Lance Armstrong must be breathing a sigh of relief that that silly little doping debacle he's gotten himself into seems to have slipped to story #2.

And while the rest of the country is wondering why he did this - theories ranging from a possible publicity stunt to he's gay and trying to hide it - all I've been wondering why didn't I think of this???

I mean, it's got to be cheaper, having a fake significant other because you won't ever find yourself at the end of dinner with some guy sheepishly saying, "I forgot my wallet.  Can you get it this time?"  You don't have to share your popcorn at the movies.  And they don't snore.

An imaginary significant other will never disappoint you and will always listen when you talk.  They won't argue with you about that foreign film you want to go see.  If it doesn't work out, you don't have to worry about them posting unflattering things about you on Facebook.  And you never have to explain when you just want time alone.

So while the world is speculating as to why and how this could have possibly happened, I say "way to go Manti Te'o."

And so does my new boyfriend Jarvis.

The EX-it Interview

It's no secret that people come in and out of our lives, some without notice and some with a flourish.  If there's anything that's a sure thing in life it's that it's constantly changing, mainly because each of us as individuals are constantly evolving.  Sometimes these changes are positive and sometimes they grate on our nerves to the point when it's time to call it quits.

That hasn't happened to me often, but it has happened - sometimes I've been the person who instigates it and sometimes I've been on the receiving end of the "it's not you, it's me."  But in all cases, I've often found myself wishing that some sort of closure could take place.  Just a few minutes to say what I want to say, knowing that I will probably not have to interact with this person ever again.  Where both parties know that it's not worth getting mad at each other because they no longer have to take the time to prove anything to the other person and can choose to take what has been said as constructive criticism...or the opinion of someone they really don't give a shit about.

I am talking about The EX-it Interview.

In business, an exit interview "provides an opportunity to 'make peace' with disgruntled employees, who might otherwise leave with vengeful intentions" and it is wise to "listen rather than talk"during the discussion.

Replace "disgruntled employee" with "bitter ex-significant other" and you have the EX-it Interview.

I'm trying to picture how this might go down.  It would have to be on neutral ground like a Starbucks or a T.G.I.Fridays.  Each party would sit on opposite sides of the table and a timer would be in front of them.  The person who is unhappy to see the relationship end would start because they think that by going first they have the upper hand. 

But later they would realize that that means the other person gets the last word.

"Now," starts Person One, settling into their chair.  "What is your main reason for leaving?"

"Well," says Person Two.  "I've tried to discuss with you how I dislike the way you load a dishwasher.  But you seem unwilling to listen to my suggestions."

"I see," says Person One, making a note on a yellow legal pad.  "Why is this important, or so significant for you?"

"Because I think it speaks volumes for your stupidity as a person in general that you don't know the correct way to optimize space."

"Uh huh.  What suggestion would you make to improve conditions, hours, shifts, amenities, etc?"

"I would say that I hated walking on your clipped toenails that were stuck in the carpet all of the time, I was tired of having sex only on Tuesday nights, and you need to stop buying generic toilet paper."

"Noted."

This interview process would go on for 15 minutes at which point the timer would go off and it would be time for the offended party to answer some questions.

"What can you say about the way you were managed?... On a day to day basis?....... And on a month to month basis?"

"You're a bitch."

"Uh huh.  And what are some things I can improve on to ensure a more quality relationship the next time around?"

"You're a bitch."

"I see.  And is there any more information you'd like to share before we part?"

"You're a bitch."

The timer would sound once again and each person would pay for their portion of the check.  They would stand up, shake hands, wish each other well (even though they don't mean it), and part ways, both a little annoyed at what the other had said, but feeling better that they had gotten certain grudges off their chest.  Person Two would be forever paranoid that the way he loads a dishwasher could make or break any future relationships and Person One would wonder every once in a while if she was actually being a bitch.

And they both might be a little better for it.

But then again...maybe not.