Bleck- Sweeney Todd Review

I've been humming "Have a Little Priest" for a few months now due to a never-hatched-plan to see Sweeney Todd the musical in Boston. Imagine my delight in finding out that they had made a movie-musical with the music. Even more delightful, my favorite creepy actor was to play Mr. Todd himself. Needless to say, I've been waiting for Sweeney Todd to make its debut.

So I went this afternoon with popcorn in hand, fully aware that I was to see murder, cannibalism, and general mayhem in a barber shop. The first half of the film was everything I desired. The filmography was appropriately creepy and it very much placed you in dirty London. Some of my favorite actors, and a few unknown to me, were thrust into a world where, when you get stabbed, you sing instead of dying. They must have forgotten to read the rules of musicals. No one sang after they died in this one. And there were many deaths. Each death was filmed horrifyingly close-up and with spurting blood everywhere. There were crunching sounds, exploding skulls, body parts in a meat grinder after that wonderful first half. I knew there was going to be murder, but really! I thought the battle scenes in Braveheart showed gratuitous violence-- I have now seen something much worse. As the elderly lady sitting a few seats down from me stated, "Jesus, Mary and Joseph- this is awful!"

I don't watch horror movies. Never saw Saw I, II, III or whatever they're up to. Never was tempted to watch Nightmare on Elmstreet. Don't watch gross movies. Unless they are free on TV and I can put them on mute when the gross scary parts come.

That being said, I'm glad I saw it. I would have seen if even if someone told me it was bloody-gross. But I won't be buying this one on video to watch on rainy afternoons. Favorite song and scene remains "Have a Little Priest", and Johnny Depp was amazing, so I'm not disappointed-- just a bit grossed out. I just think I'll go back to listening to Phantom of the Opera and Spring Awakening now to get those scenes of blood from my visual memory.

Merry Christmas

For the family that has been, the family that is, and the family that will be;
For the friends that are, and for the friends that I have yet to meet;
For those that teach me how to act, and those who teach me how not to act;
For all the blessings I have experienced, and all the strife that has made me strong,

I thank God.

Merry Christmas.

And in Memorium:

Grandpa Martin- for whom I will miss playing Christmas music.

And Grandma Kay- whose voice I could hear clearly in the silent room saying "hot mama- are you going to get a guy at church?" as I put on the knee high black leather boots that perfectly matched my red knit Christmas dress.

It's been a year of adventure in ramblingspeech's life, but also a year of loss. Here's to hoping 2008 holds a great deal more joy than sorrow.

New Year's resolutions may include: figure out what type of speech therapist I want to be when I 'grow up' (ie, stop traveling), visit Alaska, learn how to speak Spanish, take a personal finance class to explore what to do to prepare for house and child (speech therapist I am currently working with chose to have a child by herself- I'm looking into fostering at 35 years and I have a feeling I need to start financially preparing right now), work in California and watch a sunset over the Pacific ocean, work in a nursing home just to see what all the anti-SNIF rhetoric is about, and become a better friend.

Stay tuned on how all that goes.

Dangers of GPS

Twas the Night before Christmas Eve
And all through the house,
we were up wrapping presents,
or eating cookies. (Too tired to rhyme right now).

Anyways, we were robbed.
Apparently, big brother left his TomTom still attached to the window,
and it proved to be too big of a temptation for some criminals.
We were the 5th or 6th call this morning from the neighborhood.



Merry Christmas Eve!
Someone's getting an unboxed TomTom with a Mr. T voice for Christmas.
My dear Garmin is safe in my purse, and I always take down the holder in the car and wipe the circle from the window.
Now I won't feel so paranoid doing so! So everyone giving GPS units this Christmas--put a warning in the letter. If it can happen in my parents quiet neighborhood (we didn't even lock the doors last night until we went to bed at 3pm), then it can happen anywhere.

Christmas cookies

The adventure continues...

Well, adventures in baking, surely. Mom and I baked cookies last Saturday, then I turned around and went to my friend Adrienne's in Atlanta and baked some more cookies. Then I came home and baked MORE cookies and took them to work. It's been a cookie-baking bonanza. Here's some pictures:





And just so the post won't be too boring, I highly recommend visiting the following site:
Jesus Christ on a Surfboard

Back to Dixieland

You know you are in the south when....
...the local car dealerships proclaim their love for Christ with electric signs
...boiled peanut signs outnumber gas station signs
...you think you see a highschool and it turns out to be the local baptist church
...gas is $2.80/gallon
...when you say "yes ma'am", it's expected, not commented on
...you see three separate wing places lined up next to each other... and next door to them is a KFC and a Popeye's chicken.

Ah, the south. Here's a picture of the traffic ahead of me on the way here:

Inspired by the Cape

Two weekends ago I was inspired scholastically by the wonderful ASHA lectures. Last weekend I was inspired artistically by the Boston Museum of Fine Arts and the Gardner Museum (of the two, I suggest the Gardner). This weekend, I decided to become inspired by the nature of Cape Cod.

To get there, apparently, I had to off-road a great deal. See? Here's the proof- if it's not in Garmin maps, it's off-roading. The Garmin map elves haven't visited the Cape (or maybe V.P. Cheney lives there?). It only bothered to map the two main roads-- route 6 and route 6A.



Once I was there, I was caught by both the stark beauty, and the complete lack of any other human to share that beauty with. Not just the lack of a significant other, though it did cross my mind as well, at times I would have been happy with a nod from a stranger in the distance. The beaches were empty. The footprints were mine.
















Oh, I spent time shopping too in Chatham, Orleans and Provincetown. While I got a lot bought for Christmas, I've been enjoying just closing my eyes and trying to remember the wind, the surf, the sight of the little round stones being covered relentlessly by waves, the sight of a beach marred only by my clumsy flat-footed footprints. It was lonely, but it was lovely.

Snow Ghosts

Driving back from Cape Cod, the snow began falling. For the first time in my life, I drove on an interstate cold enough to prevent snow from melting as the first few flakes of a snowstorm began. Within minutes, snow was gathering in small vortexes, pushed, pulled and finally spun by the wind from the cars around me. A hundred ghosts swirling into and out of my path.

Pictures from the frozen Cape to follow soon. Maybe tonight if I can tear my eyes off the storm outside.