Since it rained Wednesday, Dearly Beloved and I went to see Julia and Julie.
It wasn’t like we’d have been working outside otherwise, but DB has this thing that one goes to the movies only on rainy days because one never knows when the outside activity urge may strike. (Sometimes that fixation of his gives ME an urge to strike, but we’ll save that story for another time. . . . )
To go anywhere on a rainy day isn’t always simple. Rain is okay, but if there is thunder or lightning we don’t leave Miss Piggy. I have mentioned before that she lived in a rabbit cage made of chicken wire at a filthy puppy mill. Having seen how storm-traumatized she is and realizing what she must have endured all those years, we make sure she isn’t alone during storms. We have tranquilizers for her, but having us around helps most. She still heads for one of her hidey holes, but she’s not frantic like she used to be.
DB’s rainy day movie theory must be commonplace because the theatre was over half full for the 1PM showing. It was mostly older women: I’m talking friends-of-Julia kind of older. He and I looked like the youngsters there, except for the 40-ish snot a couple of seats over who kept her darned cellphone on the whole time, turned our way so as not to annoy her friend. It kept lighting up in our peripheral vision every few minutes.
Besides my husband, there were only three other guys comfortable enough with their manhood to be there. (MY MAN even ate a quiche afterwards– I was inspired to go home and make a tomato and Vidalia onion tart.)
Mostly it was an audience of the older women, some of whom arrived in groups of six or so with strong opinions on where to sit:
“Where do you want to sit?”
“I’m not going up too far because my foot hurts.“
“Well, can’t we at least go up far enough that people aren’t walking in front of us?”
“I’m sitting right here on the front row. You go all the way to the top if you want to.”
“No, I’ll stay here and hope there’s not much traffic.”
“Look, there’s Clarice up there! CLARICE. . . HELLO! Go on up there and sit with Clarice.”
I will give them kudos for being pretty quiet once the movie started which was a surprise, because they had made their opinions known about the previews. Unfortunately, the woman behind us took over the narrative during the feature, giving a commentary to her younger companion and all around her as to what Meryl Streep was trying to get across as if it were a silent movie. (You understand–Meryl’s acting skills being so amateurish. . . .)
“She’s going to mess it up“. . . “She’s doesn’t like her“. . . and once, “SHE’S PISSED OFF!” Until that point, I’d thought that her 30-ish companion might be a granddaughter, but since that didn’t elicit a “Grandma!“ response, perhaps not.
DB had announced before we left that he didn’t want to eat popcorn. Fine–we’d just eaten lunch anyway. Once inside the theatre, however, he asked, “Do you want popcorn?”
Trick question. To quote the ever-eloquent Mona Lisa Vito as she testified in the trial of My Cousin Vinny, “It’s a bullshit question, it’s impossible to answer.”
I responded with a shrug. “Whatever you want. I’ll eat some if you get it.”
That sounds like a wimpy response, but this man is a popcorn addict. Daughter Boo’s first part-time job was at a Wisconsin movie theatre, and she would delight him by bringing home the leftover popcorn. Not a giant popcorn like the one we pay $5 for these days, but a rain barrel-sized amount sometimes. He would eat it all within a day or so.
After Boo took another job and even after she went away to college, other kids would occasionally bring it to him. DB’s popcorn appetite was legendary.
So, if he was trying to back off the corn now, I didn’t want to tempt him. I enjoy munching during a movie, too, but it’s not like I need the calories. If he could do without, so would I. He was still contemplating at the counter when I went in to find seats.
He came in carrying a small bag of popcorn and a large drink and was shocked. . . SHOCKED. . . when I stuck my hand in the bag.
“I thought you said you didn’t want any!“
I glared at him and sipped on the giant Coke. Wouldn’t you know, an audience full of aging bladders and mine was the first one to send out an SOS. It wasn’t something I could ignore and even though I hurried, DB informed me afterwards that I missed a very funny part. Damn!
Next time we go, it’s back to a large popcorn. I need it to soak up the drink.
Oh. . . the movie? Two thumbs up!