Tuesday, September 22, 2009


I'm one of these people who likes to read scary stories and watch scary movies. A lot. I'm not talking Saw or Hostile or any of the slasher stuff (don't get me wrong, though, I've watched parts of them, they just don't hold my interest). I'm mostly talking about those movies that make you jump out of your seat, or hide behind your fingers.

Do you know, when I was very young (6? 7?), my mom took my brother and I to the drive-in theater and we saw Rosemary's Baby? Clearly, I've got some sort of gene for this. My mom also saw The Exorcist, right around that same time, I think. Good sense prevailed, apparently, because I don't remember watching it myself until I was much older, but I do remember very clearly the after-effects of the movie at our house. How my mom would lie awake at night, listening to a mouse rattling around in the attic, imagining that it was....well, I didn't know what she thought it was, because I hadn't seen the movie, but I knew it was very not good, whatever it was.

Just like my mom, I read scary books and watch scary movies, and just like my mom, I freak myself out when I'm alone, long after the last page is turned or credits roll. Just last night, I had to walk to my own bed in the dark, and I just could not bring myself to stand next to the bed. I jumped at it from a distance of 3 feet. Nearly took out Scotty and my husband's ankle, but I won't apologize for having a survival instinct.

Anyway, the point is, I'm totally addicted to both True Blood and Dexter. And, no surprise, so is my mom. So, just a couple of months ago, my mom starts talking about the "Twilight" series. I understand it's quite the phenomena! Me? I've never read the books. But Erik, of all people, saw it on NetFlix and added it to our queue. He's not even the horror fan that I am, but he appreciates a pop-culture smackdown as much as anyone I know.

Here's my mom's review of the books: First half, sucks. Second half, great.

Here's my review of the movie: Huh?

Seriously. What is the hubbub all about? I don't know, maybe I just like my vampires half-clothed and violent. What can I say? I'm old-school. All this teen-angst vampire stuff? Do not get it. Halfway through the movie (and shortly after the LAST TIME I could possibly watch Kristin Stewart go for 'sultry' in her method acting) Erik and I looked at each other and started laughing.

We even, at one point, started checking around for online reviews of this movie, wondering how it got past our radar with no indication that it was total crap, and we came across what is easily the best review of any movie, bar none, in the history of Hollywood. A true fan, a serious buff of the books, who was fairly disappointed in certain aspects of the adaptation, started her review with, "Edward's sparkle failed to dazzle."

I cannot tell you how often I've thought of this exact phrase in the last couple of months. It completely sums up a surprising variety of situations! It pops into my head whenever I think of just the ultimate in nitpicking. I mean, come on... the acting was laughable, the plot was haphazard, the ending was abrupt...then drawn out beyond reason...the list of things wrong with this movie was spectacular but, no, the assault, in her mind, was the lack of dazzle in Edward's sparkle when he was exposed to the sun. It still makes me laugh!
Currently, it combined with the comments from this post (from both Betty and Patty) to make me rethink how critical I've been with my sewing projects. Honestly, I've sewed more in the last year than in my entire life combined. I took a class last year to learn how to make a pillow, and I've just fooled around and read and got some tutoring from my friend Monica, and who am I to critique such a new hobby?

Patty's comment, particularly, reminded me of something that happened when I first showed Monica the quilt top I got back from the round robin I just finished. There was a spot, in the blue border, where a small tag of fabric didn't catch in the seam, and it was protruding a bit from the join. She smiled and ran her hand over it. "You can fix this, if you want to..."

"Absolutely not!" I huffed, snatching away my quilt. She laughed and said she wouldn't fix it either. She said that the Amish purposely put at least one mistake in every quilt, because they say "only God is perfect". I've always told people, when handing off my less-than-perfect creations, that "the love is in the mistakes".

So, I present you with the latest additions to my botanically-themed applique. Their sparkle no longer fails to dazzle me.

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