Want some Cheese with that Whine?

Yeah–I whined in my last blog post, but I’ll tell you the truth–*Twilight* was the BEST movie I ever knit through.

Seriously–it was supposed to be set in the Pacific Northwest–lots of fog, right? Lots of foggy lighting, lots of pale, pretty people and head shots–it was the best lit movie EVER!!! If I’d been watching a movie set in the Sahara, I couldn’t have had better lighting to knit by–it was AWESOME. I finished 1/2 the ankle of a sock. I’m so pleased.

And I’ve learned that you CAN look constipated AND pretty too–because the guy who played Edward did it very nicely. There’s hope that on those *off* days, I might not have to worry about having my face in a big knot. It turns out, that sort of thing is very attractive.

And Peter Facinelli is STUNNING as a blonde!

*chortle*

In all seriousness, I really enjoyed the movie. I sort of saw the movie in the same way I read the book–using my 14 year old brain and my 41 year old brain.

In my 14 year old brain, *Twilight* is a lovely and moving story of true and absolute unchanging love being discovered when you’re *snork* 17. Because when you’re 14, that’s the age at which ALL good things happen, you’re absolutely sure of it, that’s why, and nobody can convince you otherwise, ever. In a way it’s sort of wonderful, revisiting that sort of faith, you know? I think that’s why so many adult women love the series–it truly is an innocent look at love. And love should be anticipated with a certain amount of ethereal beauty–when you’re grown you can know all of the nuts and bolts and grit and dirt that go into a good relationship, but the thing that keeps you working for it after all really IS the moment when the sunlight hits your beloved and you see all of the world’s perfections in his smile. (Don’t laugh–it happens to us as adults–you can admit it!!!) That sort of glory really does deserve a sexy soundtrack and some really nice trees in the background–I’m totally on board with that.

In my 41 year old brain, I’m sort of wondering if Bella doesn’t resent being this guy’s hobby-pet–you know, like an attractive chinchilla or something that needs to be frequently saved from predators and can be very tempting to eat with garlic and skin for a nice hat and some gloves? I’m also appalled at how eager she is to just become a damned vampire, because everyone knows your looks fade after 18 or 19 and a woman is no damned good after that. (Really–41 and fat? I should just jump in front of a bus or something!!!)

Fortunately, I was able to shut up the 41 year old cynic and remind that heifer that, after all, she DID find her (so far) one true love when she was not much older than Bella, that they DID have a rather rocky courtship during which her beloved Mate had some moments of asshole filled with lots of moments of redemption. I also remembered that, if my daughter loved the books, I was not going to be the person to shit on them. I’ve had plenty of people–including teachers, my parents, and professionals I work with shit on the books I read or the books I write and all it really did was diminish my respect for their ability to see the good in things and the truth in the fantasy, which, as I’ve said, is something I read for.

So I watched the movie, caught my breath, wondered if I’d ever look that good constipated, and generally enjoyed myself. And, as I said, I knit half a sock.

Then I came home and edited to my heart’s content, fairly secure in the belief that comparing my work to Twilight was like comparing Tunafish to Peanut Butter and Jelly. Yeah, they both make wonderful sandwiches, but they smell WAY different after a couple of weeks.

And other news?

There is none. I took the little kids into Toys’R’Us today, to see, you know, what sort of toys they want before I go shopping? I was very proud of this plan, by the way-I felt so prepared.

Uhm, as it turns out, Ladybug wants the girl half of the toy store.

The Cave Troll wants the boy half.

I think that, once again, they’re going to have to settle for whatever the hell catches my fancy at dark-thirty a.m. as I navigate Black Friday in the throes of my mother’s Turkey Coma to beat all Turkey Comas.

Gotta lurve the holidays!