Not Dead Yet

An interesting article on blogging from Writer's Digest.

I can't imagine being so techologically hooked-up that it would kill you!

Well, as long as you're here, I may as well entertain you...

On Mondays we try to have a Family Night, which usually involves us all laying around watching a movie. A couple of months ago, E thought the kids would enjoy Who Framed Roger Rabbit. Yeah, I know, not smart. I remembered that it was a little racy, but forgot Christopher Lloyd's completely creepy end as Judge Doom (flattening a villian who then pops up and continues to come after you...the very stuff of children's nightmares. Thanks, E!)

Tess kept hiding under the covers, saying, "Turn it off! Turn it off!" but I wanted to assure her that Eddie Valiant & Co. get him in the end. She's at that age where you can draw the line between bad characters and the actors that portray them, so I mentioned that Lloyd plays a really great Good Guy in one of my all-time favorite movies, Back to the Future.

Santa was listening, and brought me the BTTF trilogy on DVD for Christmas. Not having learned our lesson, we spent a couple of Family Nights watching each in turn. The first movie isn't so horrible, some bad language and sexist situations (somewhat over Tess's head), then the second movie was too dark. At least Ben gave us all some perspective: he became obessessed with flying cars.

Both kids were bored by the third movie, wandering off during the romantic scenes (when Marty comes to get Jennifer off the porch, where they left her at the end of BTTF2, and leans in to kiss her, Ben actually turned away and said "ew" !!) (he is starting that way too early, LOL).

But we scarred Ben for life (again) when the modern freight train at the end completely destroys the DeLorean. He was taking in big gulps of air, near sobbing, saying, "Car! BOKEN!" At least we tried to assure him that Doc Brown would be able to put the car back together again. Sort of.

Holy cow, just looked up Lloyd's DOB. He is the same age as my mother. So is John Cleese. Maybe 70 is the new 50?