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Tell Me About it, Stud

Wonderbutt has a new “friend” who has been visiting our back yard.  Our daughter, Dimples, loves Sandy, as she has named this stray cat.  (2nd only to The Sound of Music is Dimples’ love of Annie.)  Wonderbutt’s feelings appear to be a little more acrimonious.  I am guessing this because, when he spies Sandy in the yard, he flies at the window, barks vehemently, scratches the windowsill in his frustrated attempts to catch Sandy’s attention, and looks at me with absolute astonishment that I could dare allow such a blatantly rude intruder on our property.

Love at First Sight

Sandy appears to be unmoved by Wonderbutt’s dramatics.  She/He sits in the sun, staring at the house until his/her eyes close, completely oblivious to the fact that a 65 pound bulldog has every intention of making him/her a homicide victim as soon as he figures out a way to break out of his prison.

One Cool Cat

I am not sure which of these animals is more in need of a Come-Uppance, but it is very tempting to open that window to see what would happen…

(Want to be the next winner of the “I Wonderbutt, Do You?” Award?  Be the first to comment with the correct name of the movie this post’s title came from, and which character said it!)

Scary Monsters Give Me the Super Creeps

I have a cold.  Or allergies.  It’s hard to be certain.  Not that you care.  Not that I am implying that you are heartless.  I just think my health is probably not your top priority at the moment.  Particularly since it’s not even my top priority.

My actual top priority is trying to think of something to write today.  Because I have been a complete wuss and babying myself with this blasted unplanned, unprioritized, uncertain illness, nothing of note has happened in my life.  Usually, when nothing of note occurs, I try to write about unnoted occurrences.  Or try to make something happen, like teach Wonderbutt a new trick that is doomed to fail.  But I don’t even have the energy to do that.  Plus, I’m a little disoriented, what with the medication and the movie I talked Dimples and myself into viewing.

I just watched Labyrinth with my 9 year old daughter, and I feel like I was on a two hour trip.  And I’m not talking the Gilligan’s Island kind of trip either.  Seriously, what kind of drugs were Frank Oz and Jim Henson on when they agreed to that script?  I understand David Bowie jumping wholeheartedly into that project, but the mutant muppets and plotless nightmare of a script made me seriously consider asking Dimples if she just wanted to watch The Sound of Music for the 15 and a halfeth time.

David Bowie, the Goblin King, Stuff of my Nyquilmares

A very young Jennifer Connelly is in Labyrinth, and I found myself wondering what it must be like to be so absolutely stunningly glamorous that even I, a 43-year-old heterosexual woman who is desperately trying to find the remote so she can switch off this horrendous dreck, can’t keep my eyes off of her.  Many years have passed since Jennifer Connelly played that role, but I bet she has not once ever worn her pajamas for 24 hours straight and sprawled out on a couch with a gaseous bulldog draped over her legs and a wide-eyed nine year old daughter snuggled into the crook of her arm questioning what the heck does David Bowie have packed into those tight pants? (I was wondering the latter, not my daughter – at least I hope not.)  I was also wondering if I had mistakenly taken my medication twice.  Or maybe I hadn’t taken it at all and had fallen into a coma.

The only appealing character in the story was Ludo (the one on the right) - who strangely reminded me of Wonderbutt.

So, anyway.  I have a cold.  Or allergies.  And I do not recommend the movie Labyrinth.

Update to “They Probably Would Have Kicked Us Out of Austria”

This is not my actual post for today, but I thought those of you who read yesterday’s post might be interested in the Epilogue.  I picked Dimples up from her first day back to school today, and she nearly ran me over in her excitement.  She had choir practice after school, and the music teacher announced that they would be singing songs from Broadway shows for the Spring Concert, including songs from – you guessed it – The Sound of Music.  Perfect Friend, who slept over this weekend and was subjected to a showing of the movie (once I figured out how to download it from iTunes), is also in choir, and was apparently equally thrilled.  Dimples has assured me that she will be informing her music teacher at the next available opportunity of my song revision on my blog.

She is currently wandering around the house singing Jingle Bell Rock.  Go figure.

They Probably Would Have Kicked Us Out of Austria

Me and Cap'n Firepants

What is the Sound of Music, really?

Is it a song on the radio that skips over half the words because they are “inappropriate”, or your dog barking in his pen outside nonstop because he knows you are in the bathroom at the back of the house and he wants your attention NOW, or your daughter belting out “Do Re Mi”  100 times an hour?

Our daughter, Dimples, has moved from her Mary Poppins obsession to a Sound of Music one.  She has gone from singing a declaration of women’s rights with “Sister Suffragette” to begging a boy to take care of her in “I am Sixteen Going on Seventeen.”

Her voice is not bad, so I don’t mind the singing.  But the repetition may kill me.  Although I was able to giggle a little when she loudly sang, as part of Edelweiss, “Bless my hometown forever” instead of “Bless my homeland forever.”  Something about singing an homage to San Antonio, Texas, makes the whole song a lot less poignant.

Our entire family has taken to humming random pieces of the score as we wander around the house.  Sometimes, we run into each other in the kitchen or hallway and happen to be humming the same tune, so we break out into song together.  O.K. Maybe that’s just Dimples and me.

We are such dorks.

I was like Dimples as a child, discovering new music that I would then wear out by replaying and singing along to until I found a replacement. I used to get angry with my father who, when I started singing in the back of the car, would turn the radio volume up to drown me out.

The other day, Dimples started singing along in the back of car as I drove, and I reflexively leaned over to turn the radio volume up.  I froze.  What the heck was I doing?  And then I realized, I wasn’t trying to drown her out.  I wanted her to be a part of the song as though it were a duet.  And I even joined as a backup singer in the parts that I knew.  That made me feel better about my dad’s radio blaring commentaries.

Until I remembered that when I was a kid, I was never singing the songs that were playing on the radio at the moment.  Just my own repertoire of “How Much is that Doggie in the Window” and “Que Sera, Sera?”   So, I’m pretty sure my dad was trying to send a not-so-subtle message about my repetitive serenades from the back seat whenever he cranked that dial to the right.

It’s clear to me that Dimples and I were meant to be born to the Von Trapp family, to live out lyrical lives of harmony and happy endings.

My dear husband, Cap’n Firepants, is our own Captain Von Trapp,  slightly charmed by our impromptu concerts in the kitchen, but mortified at the thought of us performing in public.  I can’t imagine what he’s so worried about.  I was in the All State choir back in the day.

Dimples is alive with the sound of music

With songs she has sung for a thousand hours

Dimples fills my heart with the sound of music

Even when she’s not taking showers.

 

My heart wants to dance when she plays Kinect

On a gloomy winter day.

My heart wants to sigh when she has to correct

Every word that I say,

 

To laugh like a girl when she trips

And falls over dogs on the floor

Who bark through the night

Or knock down the walls with a snore.

 

I live in our house, and I’m never lonely

I know I will hear what I heard before

Again and again and again there’s the sound of music

And we’ll sing once more.

 

 

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