Sunday, October 27, 2013
A Garden in October, and What's the Deal with Chitty Chitty Bang Bang?
It was a weird weekend:
I ate too much frosting on Thursday night and made myself sick. I stayed that way all Friday and most of Saturday. Which was unfortunate as James was gone for the weekend, so Edie was subjected to single parenting by an adult who made herself sick by eating too much frosting.
We (Edie and I) watched Chitty Citty Bang Bang over the course of the weekend. You know those movies you remember from your childhood and then you watch them as an adult and they really hold up? This was not one of them. I mean, sure, Dick Van Dyke is in top form, and sure, Jemima and Jeremy are pretty cute, and, yes, of course, the English countryside as depicted by an MGM soundstage is lovely, but, man alive, it's a weird movie. Firstly, for a movie that was made in 1968, Truly Scrumptious is a very strange depiction of a female romantic lead. I mean, it's not really a romance between Truly and Dick Van Dyke, it's more of a romance between Truly and the children. Van Dyke's character is sort of just the means to the end, and, here, the end is instant maternity.
Then, there's her opposite, the Queen of Bavaria, who hates children and won't allow any to exist within city limits, so all the children just live in the sewers, like rats. I mean, I don't want to get too into this, but there's a whole court full of upper crusts who apparently have no children one way or the other and the mind boggles at the implications.
There's the King of Bavaria, who is an overgrown child who keeps trying to murder his wife, the child catcher, and then the revolt, lead by a be-wigged Van Dyke, who takes off in flying Chitty Chitty Bang Bang right when the fighting is still in full swing. I mean, we see no resolution, they just take off in the middle of a child-sized French Revolution. How does it all end?
There is, of course, a hefty dose of anti-German sentiment, but, I guess that was still cool in '68.
I read an article about sustainability or something or other, and it changed the way I thought about my garden, so I moved it inside last night. Well, partly last night, until it got really dark and I heard something moving through the grass, and then finished up this morning, in the cold light of day. I'm moving the larger plants to the enclosed front porch and the smaller guys are making camp in the butler's pantry. I've make cuttings from the mint and basil, and will grow smaller versions to replant next summer. For more details, see above photos.
For concerned parties, the effects of the frosting seem to have worn off, though I'm still taking it pretty easy. For example, James came home with half a bag of Sour Patch Kids (X-trememly Sour), and I only had six. I'm the walking definition of restraint.