Giving the President a Finger

By: Mary Fran Bontempo

To hear an audio version of this post, click the play arrow below.



Photo by Haraz N. Ghanbari for the Associated Press

 I’ve used the same gesture countless times to bring errant kids (or a husband) in line.

But on the President of the United States?

Last week, in a photo shot by Haraz N. Ghanbari for the Associated Press, Arizona’s Republican Governor, Jan Brewer, was caught wagging a finger directly into the face of the commander-in-chief. Seems the governor had a few issues with the President and sought to drive home her point with her pointer finger.

To be fair, there is another single-digit gesture Governor Brewer could have employed to catch the President’s attention. But that one would have likely had her being tackled to the tarmac by the Secret Service.

Still, it seems Brewer crossed a line.

Finger wagging is but one of many gestures, expressions, exasperated sighs and so on in the “scolding” arsenal of women and mothers around the world. We frequently use them in conjunction with words, but often times, a silent admonition in the form of a raised eyebrow, a tilt of the head or a quickly raised palm can be just as effective.

Think about how often your own mother quieted you with a quick swivel of her head followed by an arched brow. How many times did a deep intake of breath followed by an equally long sigh provide fair warning that you were treading on thin ice and should “knock it off” though your mother hadn’t uttered a single syllable?

There’s no doubt the plethora of non-verbal communication routinely utilized by women is effective. But it’s also highly personal and more than a little intimate.

Once, during a light-hearted “discussion” with one of my husband’s friends, I jokingly wagged my finger in his face to underscore a point. “Hey, hold on,” he said. “The only woman allowed to do that to me has stayed married to me for thirty-two years.”

He had a point—no pun intended. When we women employ our gestures, arched brows and sighs, we are performing the human equivalent of the action a mother bear takes to scold her cubs. It’s a less physical form of mama bear cuffing the offending youngster with a backhand, or backpaw, and knocking the cub off its feet. It’s a non-verbal way of saying, “Hey, dummy! Wake up and pay attention! I’m telling you this for your own good!”

And it’s also not something you do to strangers, or acquaintances…or the President of the United States.

For his part, Obama handled the incident gracefully, noting that he felt the entire episode was blown out of proportion.

That’s a good thing for Governor Brewer. Because if Obama had responded with a single-digit waving gesture of his own, I’ll bet the Secret Service would have simply looked the other way.

What's in your arsenal of gestures? Click "comments" below and share!

Article first published as Giving the President a Finger on Technorati.

Laughing @ Middle Age, a Groundhog Cartoon by Pat Achilles

Send this chuckle to a friend by forwarding our link: www.notreadyforgrannypanties.com .

Safety with Master Vince Melchiorre--A Video for You!

Safety first! Learn from the safety tips below as Master Vince Melchiorre (who also happens to be my cousin!) demonstrates some ways women can protect themselves from attackers.

Many thanks to Gina Rubel and Furia Rubel Communications for hosting this event!

--Mary Fran

Picture of the Week by Carmen Ferreiro Esteban

Hugo

 directed by Martin Scorsesse

based on the book THE INVENTION OF HUGO CABRET by Brian Selznik

reviewed by Carmen Ferreiro-Esteban

Because my YA fantasy Two Moon Princess was published in 2007 the same year Brian Selznik’s THE INVENTION OF HUGO CABRET came out and the ALA (American Library Association) annual conference was in Philadelphia in January 2008, I was there when they announced THE INVENTION OF HUGO CABRET had won the Caldecott Award, the most prestigious award in Children Literature. 

Although mainly unknown then by readers, judging by their reaction, it was clearly a favorite among the librarians present at the conference. 

Now four years later THE INVENTION OF HUGO CABRET was made into a spectacular 3D movie by Martin Scorsese, the director that gave us Taxi Driver, Raging Bull, Gangs of New York, and the TV show Boardwalk Empire among many others.

Hugo, the movie, is cinematographically a stunning achievement. The settings are gorgeous, from the amazingly detailed recreation of a train station in the 1930s to the streets of Paris, from the world behind the walls and the workings of the clocks to the silent movies stages. 

Yes the movie is visually gorgeous, but I found the story itself seriously lacking. 

THE INVENTION OF HUGO CABRET was a different kind of book. It was told both in images and in words. But it’s not a picture book, nor a graphic novels. The first 46 pages are drawings and the drawings tell the story.

A story its author introduces as follows: Paris in the 1930's, a thief, a broken machine, a strange girl, a mean old man, and the secrets that tie them all together... Welcome to The Invention of Hugo Cabret.
Whether the story works better in the book I do not know for I haven’t read it. But in the movie the plot seems far-fetched, an excuse to pay an homage to a time long gone when movies where so new, people ran screaming from the theater when shown a train entering the station. 

Despite his cuteness, I found difficult to believe a young boy could keep the clocks of the station running while keeping his existence a secret, or that the old toymaker in the store was related to the automaton his father rescued from the museum. 

And the life in the train station was, although so perfectly recreated, cliche and kind of predictable. 

But I am in the minority here: Hugo has won 11 Oscar nominations. Which means, many people love it.

And in Rotten Tomatoes, most critic praises it. Except for Wall Street Journal critic JOE MORGENSTERN who writes “Yet thematic potency and cinematic virtuosity (...) can't conceal a deadly inertness at the film's core.”

Sadly, I agree with him.

Click below to watch Hugo's trailer.

The Queen's Controversy

by Chrysa Smith

Paula Deen, the 'Queen' of southern cooking, is now under fire. 'Hiding' her Diabetic diagnosis for three years has now led to criticism: and that is, that she waited until her partnership with a major drug company to tell the world.

Y'all know that Paula's middle name comes in a yellow stick in the dairy section. She was criticized for that (not in my circle), and now, scrutinized for waiting until she had a big 'deal' before turning over her fork to a healthier and what is seen as 'wealthier' routine and 'selling out' as a spokesperson for a new Diabetes drug from drug giant, Novo Nordisk.

Of course, criticism has come from Anthony Bourdain; the author of Kitchen Confidential and a series of other 'tell all' books about life in the kitchen. Bourdain tends to 'rat' out chefs for what he sees as their ineptness, their lack of authenticity, their dirty little kitchen secrets and personality quirks that are kept from public review. But it has been reported that Deen's PR person has quit over the new venture, which makes you wonder if the criticism doesn't run deeper

But what do y'all think? Is Deen doing anything different than anyone in her position? Can you blame her for following the obvious connection to convert her cooking and become the new face of healthy living? Doesn't the celebrity world constantly jump into new ventures that are advantageous to them? And is there really something wrong with the whole thing? CAN ANYONE HAVE ANY PERSONAL PRIVACY ANYMORE?

Personally, I'd welcome the thought of being 'discovered', showered with money-making offers, tv shows, public appearances, product endorsements and a world of glamour. Well maybe, for at least a few months or so. When someone succeeds, unless they are ripping someone off or doing it at someone's detriment, it seems to me that the old 'green eyed monster' reappears. It's the same old chestnut. Ever since Eve buttered her fig leaf and served it to Adam al fresco in a garden.

Meticulously Martha

by Chrysa Smith


There she was. Entering 'stage left' as they say in the 'biz.' The blond emperess who can do just about anything 'better than', well, just about any of us. And I was there to witness it all in the flesh.


Yes, I was lucky enough to score 'Martha' tickets to her soon-to-be-cancelled show. And I must say, while I've been strongly attracted to her sense of style and home fashion, I've never sat and thought too much about Martha--the person.


Sure enough, I've heard the stories---how impossibly demanding she is to work with, live with. How perfection may not even be enough for her. But I have to say, the woman is damn impressive.


There she stood, rambling off tips for stain removal, cooking Butternut Squash perfectly, and answering audience questions about gardening, her 'live' greenhouse and what type of salt to use for what purpose. She had all the answers, including telling us how she has a board full of ramekins filled with various salts to use in cooking. I think it was over a dozen.


Just how does the decorating diva do it? First of all, I couldn't stay awake enough hours to keep up with the demands of her mind. She pushes, pushes, pushes the limits of 'more.' She's very attractive to boot. Having been a model, she joyfully (at least for those of us with middle-aged bulge) has a little extra skin around the middle, but is strikingly pretty. She has emerged bigger and better than ever; having overcome something as mortifying as 'prison' on a publicity scale that is probably equal to Al Capone. All of this, plus as one door is closing on her show, another door is opening for her in retail.


In addition to her lines at KMart and Macy's, Martha is now partnering with JC Penney to reinvent their image. I believe she said this would all occur by the end of the year.


Now that I'm writing, I suppose she is an incredible lesson in 'perseverence.' All of the greats are. Despite the circumstances at any time, she's able to rise above, keep a 'stiff upper lip' and move onward and upward. And that's a great lesson for all of us---to be meticulously moving on.

A Powerful Cover-Up--Super Cosmetics

By: Mary Fran Bontempo

To hear an audio version of this column, click the play arrow below.

I thought I was finished with graduations.

Yes, I still have kids in school, but personally, my last graduation took place quite a while ago, after an intense four years of college. Like graduation from elementary and high school, that one was a passage into a new, exciting world full of promise and potential.

But recently, I received another “diploma,” entirely unanticipated and frankly, unwelcome. It appears that I have “graduated” into the world of industrial strength cosmetics.

Americans are big on power. Power is good and more power is better. Strong? Okay. Extra strength? Well of course we want extra strength. Move onto industrial strength and you’ve achieved the ultimate in power.

All of which is fine with me if we’re talking about something to take the soap scum off of my shower. But industrial strength on my face?

Last week, as I walked through a department store, I stopped at a cosmetics counter. Within seconds, the sales clerk honed in.

“Can I help you?”

“I’m not sure. I don’t wear much makeup, but I was thinking I might need something to cover up these dark circles under my eyes. Do you have any suggestions?”

The woman looked at me (I’m not sure, but I think she winced) and made a beeline across the floor.

“I have just the thing. It’s an industrial strength concealer. It hides everything—circles, blemishes, discoloration, broken capillaries, redness—everything. It lasts all day. And it won’t settle into fine lines and wrinkles. You can put it all over your face. This is exactly what you need,” she chirped.

Ouch. Discoloration? Broken capillaries? Redness? I thought I needed a little help, but an industrial strength product slathered all over my face? Seems like it was only yesterday that a touch of mascara and a swipe of lip gloss did the trick. Suddenly I’ve moved on to products that require application with a trowel.

I didn’t even know cosmetics came in industrial strength. But if this is the trend, I’m guessing that next time I need makeup they’ll send me across the street to Home Depot.

“I’m sorry Ma’am, but you’re too far gone for even the industrial strength concealer. If you head over to aisle seven at the Home Depot you’ll find spackle to fill in those crevices. Next row over has the primers and you can top it all of with the heavy duty latex indoor/outdoor paint in aisle nine.”

After the sales clerk delivered her verbal smack down, I plunked twenty bucks on the counter and pocketed a tiny, circular pod of super-potent facial cover up. I suppose I shouldn’t feel too badly. It seems I’m hardly the only one in need of the product; the accompanying literature was printed in nine languages.

Guess what? The stuff actually works. I slopped it on and watched my flaws disappear, but I think I got a little carried away. Before I realized it, I was scraping the last of it from the container with my fingernail.

Hmmm. Perhaps an industrial strength concealer should come in an industrial sized vat. Maybe I'll find it when I graduate to buying my cosmetics at Home Depot.

What’s your take on cosmetics with super-powers? Click “comments” below and share!

Laughing @ Middle Age, a Car Cartoon by Pat Achilles

Send this chuckle to a friend by forwarding our link: www.notreadyforgrannypanties.com.

The Bark Side: Superbowl Commercial Preview--A Video For You!

It's almost here--Superbowl Commercial Time! This hilarious commercial takes a moment to sink in, but if you listen carefully, you'll want to take out your light saber and do battle with Darth Vader! Check out the costumes on these adorable pooches

and may The Force be with you!

--Mary Fran

Picture of the Week by Carmen Ferreiro-Esteban

The Iron Lady--Movie Review

By: Mary Fran Bontempo

I walked into the theater expecting to see the helmet-haired, stern British politician, the Iron Lady of the film's title, proclaiming her "pull yourself up by your bootstraps and get on with it" attitude and standing her ground against all oppostion.

And I did, for at least part of the movie. For the other part, I saw my grandmother, in her last years, struggling to hold onto her memory, her mind and her dignity.

Margaret Thatcher was Britain's first female Prime Minister, leader of her country's Conservative Party from 1975 until 1990. Dubbed "The Iron Lady" by the Soviets for her tough diplomatic stances, the movie details her entrance into politics after an early life as a grocer's daughter and follows her trajectory and later resignation from her coveted role as Prime Minister, a fascinating journey, especially for a woman in British public life.

But it is the portrayal of Thatcher's life post-politics which alternately saddens and disturbs. Now in her late eighties, Thatcher is a mere shadow of her formerly formidable self, fighting to maintain her dignity and independence even as she carries on conversations with her long-deceased husband, Denis.

Merle Streep brilliantly channels Mrs. Thatcher, sinking so deeply into the character's psyche and skin that it's easy to forget we're not watching a documentary. The actress captures every nuance, not only of the fearless politician, but of the fearful elderly woman. Pure acting perfection.

As history, The Iron Lady provides an outline, rather than an encyclopedia, and if you're looking for a purely historical portrayal, the film may disappoint. It is more than anything a portrait of a life, fully lived and now coming to a close, that viewers observe in all of its pathos.

Thatcher fulfilled her desire that her life "mean something," also proclaiming, "I simply cannot die after washing out a teacup." Yet despite her years as her country's powerful leader, it is precisely this simple act that is one of the closing images of the film--an elderly woman washing out a teacup.

I left the theater feeling a bit wistful, mindful of my mortality as well as of the great and exciting possibilities of a life passionately lived, reminded that we are all here for but a brief time and we should do our uttmost to "mean something."

The Pantry, continued: Savory Sauces

by Chrysa Smith

Nothing says Mid-Winter like Balsamic Vinegar & Soy Sauce. Well, maybe a box of chocolate truffles too. But like the canned tomatoes and the chicken stock, these condiments will take you a long, long way.

Most obviously, I like olive oil and a little Balsamic vinegar on my salads. I don't know what the experts suggest, but I do about a 3 to 1 ratio of olive oil to Balsamic. Some salt and pepper on baby spinach with the oil/vinegar dressing---and it's just plain bene. A Balsamic marinade also goes nicely on some out-of-season strawberries that just can't go solo at this time of year. Cut them, let them sit in about a tablespoon +/- of the berries for about 1/2 hour or more. Sweeten to taste with a little sugar. It's a nice sweet/sour dessert. Serve it with some Port or after-dinner wine and voila! A nice alternative to a heavy dessert.

On my turkeys and sometimes my roast chickens, I like to mix Balsamic vinegar, some orange juice and dijon mustard. Let it marinate for at least an hour, poking holes through the skin. Not only is the smell great and the flavor quite good, but it always comes out moist (as long as you don't overcook the bird too long). You can find a good recipe for this from Chef Cristina Ferrare on http://http//www.oprah.com/food/Turkey-with-Marinade-Recipe-Cristina-Ferrares-Cooking-Class-Video

Soy and Balsamic go together well in other dressings too. Try 1 tbsp of each plus 2 tbsp melted butter and some salt and pepper on cooked asparagus. If you like that, experiment with other favorite veggies. Or try a combo of soy, grated ginger and some orange juice on salmon, scallops or shrimp. I also use my soy stark naked. For a change of pace from ravioli, I buy the frozen Chinese potstickers in a place like Costco or BJ's. I boil them till 'al dente' (can you use that term for Chinese food?). Then I fry them in a little vegetable oil and serve with some soy sauce on top---absolutely delicious.

Now to up the ante a bit, check out white Balsamic vinegar. It's got a lighter taste and is quite excellent in salad dressings. Again, I whisk a little with some olive oil and dijon mustard. It's a bit sweeter than the regular Balsamic marinade---and is my own concoction based on a wonderful dressing I had at Mia's at Caesar's in Atlantic City(a must-do when in AC).

*Balsamic vinegar shares an aging process with wine. The older the aging, the more expensive the vinegar. I'm cheap. I've never purchased a $20 bottle of Balsamic. If you have, please share. I'd like to know if the extra bucks are worth the taste.

Tune into Ben FM--95.7--This Sunday!

Real Mom Radio and BEN FM feature NRFGP founder, Mary Fran Bontempo



Joey Fortman and Mary Fran Bontempo

Tune into 95.7 BEN FM for Real Mom Radio with Joey Fortman on Sunday (1/29) at 7 AM for a special program with Not Ready For Granny Panties own Mary Fran Bontempo! (Don't worry; if you need your beauty sleep, we'll post a link to the broadcast after it airs!)

Real Mom Media founder Joey Fortman shares her personal life and business experiences along with those of her guests, real women in the Philadelphia area navigating real life. This week, Joey talks to Mary Fran Bontempo about writing, blogging, business and "mommying." (The show also features a "special guest"--a reluctant Megan Bontempo, pressed into service during the interview!)

Real Mom Radio airs every Sunday at 7 AM on BEN FM, 95.7 on the radio dial. Be sure to tune in each week as Joey Fortman features women and stories sure to interest all of our NRFGP readers!

What a Shame--And It's About Time

By: Mary Fran Bontempo

To hear an audio version of this post, click the play arrow below.

Shame. Embarrassment. Humiliation.

The hat trick of negative emotions were all experienced last week by the 14-year-old teen forced by his mother to stand in front of their home wearing a sign proclaiming, “I lie, I steal, I sell drug(s), I don’t follow the law.”

At least I hope that’s what he was feeling.

Indiana mother Dynesha Lax resorted to the unusual punishment after several frustrating encounters with the local court system, when her son received minor slaps on the wrist for multiple offenses.

With her son showing little remorse or inclination to change his ways, Ms. Lax took matters into her own hands. Noting that her son might have been trying to impress other teens with his behavior, the mother said, “You’re looking for attention, we’re going to get you attention.”

Several passers-by objected to Lax’s methodology, calling police to complain about the punishment.

I think the woman deserves a medal.

When I was a kid, I frequently heard my grandmother exclaiming that someone “should be ashamed” of him or herself for some offensive behavior. If it was a direct admonition, usually pointed at one of my cousins, the offender hung his head, shuffling his feet until he was dismissed with a disgusted “You better behave yourself or I’m gonna biff you!” I won’t say that recipient of the scolding never committed another offense, but I believe my grandmother’s watchful eye and liberal use of shaming kept more than one family member from a permanent perch on the wrong side of the law.

Likewise, my parents made sure that we knew what acceptable behavior was and if we crossed the line, the shame, whether administered by them or self-inflicted, was immediate. (I was once so ashamed of myself for sneaking a look at another kid’s test paper that I deliberately wrote down the wrong answer. True story.)

But somewhere along the line, shame became a dirty word. It’s a lousy feeling, to be sure, but from the looks of the world, we need to reintroduce it, along with embarrassment and humiliation, back into the vernacular in a big way.

From the moment our kids leave the womb, we fall all over ourselves to reassure them about how wonderful, perfect and beyond reproach they are. In pre-school, each of my children had to make an “I Am Special” poster, extolling their virtues and proclaiming their magnificence. I mean, they were three. Just how fabulous could they be?

To be sure, kids are a gift and we need to instill self-confidence and blah, blah, blah, but no kid is the second coming of Christ, at least not yet. One of my friends, after helping her third little one create the “I Am Special” poster told me she wanted to say to her son, “Yeah, yeah, you’re special, I’m special, we’re all special. Now get over yourself and get on with it.” Fortunately for her three-year-old, she held her tongue.

Unfortunately, all this “specialness” has birthed a shame-proof society. Embarrassment? Humiliation? Instead of shunning the words, people aspire to them—just look at those idiots from The Jersey Shore and Keeping up With the Kardashians if you need proof.

That’s bad enough, but when the lack of standards or a conscience crosses over into criminal territory, things really get scary.

Dynesha Lax gets it. In her words, “I’m not going to let the streets have my son….I figured if I knock him off his high horse, it would give him a reality check.” If making her son ashamed of himself saves him, Dynesha should get a Pultzer Prize or something.

But if that’s not forthcoming, I think I’ll make Dynesha her very own “I Am Special” poster. She’s one person I can think of who actually deserves it.

Article first published as What a Shame--And It's About Time on Technorati.

Laughing @ Middle Age, an App Cartoon by Pat Achilles

Send this chuckle to Girl Scout cookie fans you know by forwarding them our link: www.notreadyforgrannypanties.com.

Some NRFGP Dance Moves--a Video for You!

Now this woman is definitely Not Ready For Granny Panties!

Watch as she shows off her dance moves to Usher! Enjoy!

--Mary Fran

Picture of the Week by Carmen Ferreiro-Esteban

Losing Control with the Golden Globes

By: Mary Fran Bontempo

“Let’s get ready to Ruummbbllee!”

Even if you’ve never witnessed a boxing match, announcer Michael Buffer’s rallying cry has become a familiar refrain, used to launch not only boxing matches but video games, music videos, even special events like weddings. As far as I know, though, it’s never been used as the introduction to the Golden Globes.

But it could be.

The Golden Globe awards, telecast live this Sunday, January 15th from 8:00 to 11:00 PM on NBC, are the Oscars’ rough and tumble cousin. Kind of like Patty Duke was to Cathy, her proper British relative. While Cathy was adoring “the minuet, the Ballets Russes and crepes suzette,” Patty was rocking and rolling, scarfing down hot dogs and losing control—an image that echoes both the rollicking atmosphere of the Globes and the behavior of the attending Hollywood elite.

The Golden Globes, sponsored by the Hollywood Foreign Press Association, (http://www.goldenglobes.org/) are flirty, casual, randy and at times, supremely uncomfortable—host Ricky Gervais mercilessly skewered last year’s attendees and promises more of the same this year. Alcohol flows freely throughout the event and the stars wander from table to table (no stiff, assigned seating here) greeting friends and making nice for TV with foes.

Globes’ fashion is edgier stuff as well, as party-goers push the envelope with cheekier, sexier gowns, saving the more sedate stuff for February’s Oscar gala. Fashionistas alternately drool and snarl over the glamour crowds’ hits and misses with extensive coverage of who’s wearing whom. (Tune in for E!’s Live From the Red Carpet starting at 5 PM on Sunday.)

Covering film as well as television, the Globes recognizes achievements in 25 categories, seating hoity-toity film stars next to tables populated with their backwoods relations—I mean, TV stars. The whole endeavor is an excuse for Hollywood to let its hair down, not that anyone in that alternate universe needs an excuse.

But as hedonistic and self-indulgent as the Golden Globes appear…well, are, there’s actually a charitable bent to the excess, as the HFPA donated a record $1.5 million dollars to film related charities and scholarship funds in 2011, including a $250,000 grant to those affected by natural disasters in Haiti, Chile and Japan.

So go ahead and rumble with your inner Patty Duke by indulging in the guilty pleasure offered by the Golden Globes. And if you’re looking for an appetizer to snack on, may I suggest the ever popular mini hot dog in a blanket—like the Globes, it’ll make you “lose control!”

Restaurant Inhospitality

by Chrysa Smith

We've all had those unfortunate memories of bad meals, bad behavior, bad times at restaurants. Some were the result of the kitchen, some the wait staff, some our fellow diners and maybe even ourselves. Some were bad enough to make us stay clear of the place altogether.

Well after some recent poor service and mediocre food, I got to thinking: As far as restaurants go, I've had some incredible experiences and some real klunkers. And I got to remembering and chuckling over some of my worst restaurant experiences:

At a restaurant in Montana, when my husband asked for the bleeding steak to be cooked just a bit more, the waiter came over with a giant fork, stabbed the steak and ran off to the kitchen with it (left the plate on the table)

At a restaurant near home, when we stopped in with no reservations (as we often did), the matre' d asked how long it would take us to eat? Maybe he was going to seat us at the 'express' table!

At a famous NYC restaurant, one of the customers 'called' his waiter by banging loudly on his plate with the utensils

At another restaurant, with a reservation, we were asked to wait for 45 minutes while they prepared the table. Three 6 feet guys and smaller women were seated in a booth----the men squeezed in so tight, well, they couldn't pull out their wallets without standing up

At a diner in NYC, when a child was misbehaving, disturbed diners got into an argument with the socially inept parents--which kept up until one of the groups left the building

At a hotel cafe in Florida, I ordered my usual cup of hot tea. The waitress told me they couldn't do it because they didn't have any hot water. Hmmm, maybe a pot and a stove?

When my brother's friend made reservations under the name 'Doctor Brown', he insisted that we'd have prime seating. We were seated near the swinging kitchen door, which hit the back of one chair each time a waiter would enter or leave the kitchen

When I sometimes tire of cooking, I think of these. Unless I am going to a tried and true selection, or can read multiple good ratings on Zagat, Open Table or Restaurant.com, I'll take a sip of wine and pick up the spoon and my apron one more time.

What are your worst restaurant experiences?

A Groovy, Hairy Afternoon

by Chrysa Smith

Groovin on a Saturday afternoon---Oops, wait that's another vintage group! But that's exactly what I was doing this past Saturday at the Academy of Music in Philadelphia.

Part of the Broadway Across America series, this psychedelic 'trip' back to the 60's kept me singing and bopping for two hours, as it brought back all of those good and funky memories.

Take for example, my 45rpm collection. Remember? I would go to the store after school and the clerk would pull out the chosen record from a wall of 'inboxes' (for lack of a better word). I'd bring home my record in a paper sleeve cut just to size and, after playing it about five times, store it in my pink, plastic 45 record keeper (covered with pink fur and googly eyes). Oh, how lovely those 60 fashions were.

And I saw every bit of them at the show. Tie-dyed, bell bottoms, long vests, peasant shirts, long dresses, headbands. You name it, it was there----as long as some long-forgotten tunes: Hare Krishna, Easy to be Hard, Good Morning Starshine, Hair and of course--Aquarius. And in between the singing, the story, though somewhat lost in the hippie-grove fest, had all the appointments of any civil rights movement. Tear gas used on demonstrators: Can you say Penn State? Anti-War Protests: Iraq? Afghanistan? Talks of entry into Iran? An innocent boy killed in war: I think the current figures are over 4,000. Drugs: what else is new? Sex: yes, it still rules the world. Rock and Roll: replaced with hip-hop.

The show runs through the week in Philly, but may just be coming to your city soon. If so, take a magic carpet ride back to the 60's. Yah, baby, very groovy indeed.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=06X5HYynP5E&feature=fvst

Bell bottoms? Midriff tops? suede headbands? What's your favorite 60's memory?

Catholic School Closings—End of an Era

By: Mary Fran Bontempo

To hear an audio version of this post, click the play arrow below.

With the exception of their shame-faced sabotage of the Nazi vehicles in pursuit of the beloved Von Trapp Family, the nuns in the movie The Sound of Music were positively angelic, serenely walking around their abbey and singing, wondering what to do about their “wild-child,” Maria.

I had a slightly different experience.

As a six-year-old Catholic school child growing up in Northeast Philadelphia, I found myself staring at a terrifying alien creature who resembled nothing so much as an angry penguin on my first day of grade school. We kids were seventy-two strong, crammed into seven rows of desks ten deep and of a number enough to send a teacher in one of today’s classrooms screaming from the room.

But there we sat, hands folded on the edge of the desk in front of us, struck mute by the sheer force of the tiny, yet rotund figure standing sternly before us. Sister Marita Roberts, hair hidden beneath her veil and body camouflaged by a dark blue habit covered by a round, white thing that looked like an adult sized bib, silently dared us to utter a sound.

We didn’t.

What followed for me was sixteen years of Catholic school (yes, a Catholic college as well) and a complete indoctrination into a culture and a way of life that, bit by bit, is starting to disappear. And despite my initial childhood terror, I’m sorry to see it go.

Late last week, the Archdiocese of Philadelphia announced the closing of four Catholic high schools and forty-four Catholic elementary schools. My high school was one of the institutions on the list.

I attended St. Huberts Catholic High School for Girls, graduating in 1977 with a class of 650 young women by my side. Currently, the entire school has a population of 675 students and is operating at only 40 percent of its capacity. As with the other schools, the archdiocese has decided that in order to salvage the system of Catholic education in Philadelphia, it’s now necessary to close and/or merge many of the institutions that were second homes to generations of families.

I understand. Without some serious belt-tightening, it would be just a matter of time before the entire Catholic school system would be nothing more than a complex group of trivia questions, with answers known only to those of us who identified each other by home parishes and grade schools. “I’m from St. Matts.” “I’m from Ransom.” “I’m from Resso.” (Resurrection of Our Lord for those not in the know.)

But the loss of neighborhood grade schools and then the high schools that would welcome older students cuts to the quick. We were a family with a shared history and culture. We had the same stories—maybe a few different details, but every Catholic kid knew some altar boy who drank the altar wine and then had the stuffing beat out of him by a nun. (Like I said, our nuns didn’t float around singing.) We all suffered through the panic over attending confession—entering that dark cell-like closet, waiting for the priest to intone our penance for our grievous sins. (“How many Hail Mary's did you get?”) Every one of us prayed that we wouldn’t get the priest who branded students’ foreheads with a giant black cross on Ash Wednesday.

Okay, we were a weird family with questionable stories, but we were still a family.

But things change. Fewer schools may mean that even fewer children will grow up with the memories of being a part of something so special, so unique. With the Catholic Church in such disarray, perhaps this was inevitable; perhaps this is the beginning of the end of a lifestyle that’s time has passed. But maybe the schools that remain will grow stronger, affording future generations of children the opportunity to create their own unique stories about growing up in a Catholic school.

I hope so. Regardless of the outcome, though, I’ll continue to recall my Catholic education with fondness—terrifying nuns, giant black crosses and all.

Laughing @ MIddle Age, a Cartoon by Pat Achilles

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A Beautiful New Year's Video for You!

A beautiful mini-movie to start the New Year right. Enjoy!

--Mary Fran

Picture of the Week by Carmen Ferreiro-Esteban

We Bought a Zoo and War Horse--Movie Reviews

By: Mary Fran Bontempo

There’s something about an “animals in jeopardy movie” that gets me every time. I suppose it’s the innocence of animals that put their fate in the hands of occasionally hapless humans, with results that put both humans and animals at risk, that tugs at my heart strings.

In any case, theaters are accommodating my tender heart with two new releases featuring animals as major players in the cast—with somewhat uneven effect.

We Bought a Zoo is the mostly true story of Benjamin Mee, a recent widower who decides that the prescription for what ails him and his two kids (Dylan, the requisite sulky teenage boy and an adorable seven year old girl named Rosie), is a move to the country for a fresh start. What Benjamin doesn’t count on is that his “perfect” house comes with an ailing zoo, complete with sick and depressed animals and a motley staff of characters attempting to keep the place from sinking into metaphorical quicksand.

What ensues is hardly a surprise to the audience—runaway animals, an inspection deadline that threatens to close the zoo for good, dwindling resources and a tension-filled relationship between a father and his sad son—but with the ever-charming Matt Damon helming the ship, the effect is simply delightful. Throw in Scarlet Johansson playing against type as a zookeeper desperate to save the animals, Elle Fanning as young Dylan’s love interest and Thomas Haydn Church as Ben’s skeptical and comedic older brother and the movie effectively covers all of the bases from family film to comedy to romance.

It’s a lot to ask of a movie and here the animals play supporting roles, but We Bought a Zoo delivers. Well worth the price of admission.

On the other hand, War Horse, featuring the stately steed, Joey, as the star of the film, left me less enamored.

It’s classic Steven Spielberg fare, with a skittish horse bought by a ne’er-do-well fellow looking to one-up his rich landlord. The man’s son falls for the animal, which is deemed totally unsuitable for farm life. But just when it seems all is lost, Joey gallops to the rescue, plowing a field full of rock so the almost destitute family can save their farm.

Of course, if things resolved there, it would have been a short movie, and devoid of the animal in peril theme. Alas, a storm ruins the crop, forcing the farmer to sell Joey to an army officer who takes him off to fight in World War I. Cue perilous situations, multiple caretakers of the horse and animal abuses which left me covering my eyes until my husband said it was safe to look.

And of course, Albie, Joey’s devoted owner, eventually joins the conflict in search of his horse. Does the boy survive the war? Does the horse? Is the boy reunited with the horse? Is this movie by Steven Spielberg?

Despite its grand themes and comely animals, War Horse left me feeling a bit flat, with every scene as predictable as the finale, on a windswept Scottish hillside, with the characters backlit by a setting sun. As my husband aptly put it, “It was like watching My Friend Flicka. But with a war.” I couldn’t have said it better myself. Not a bad movie, but when you know what’s coming from the first plaintive note of the violin’s background music, it’s a bit disappointing. And it had no Matt Damon to serve as eye candy.

If you’re looking to plunk down twenty bucks at the movies this week, opt for Matt and We Bought a Zoo. As much as I love animals, this time, it's the humans who make the movie.

Share your thoughts on current releases by clicking "comments" below!

The Perfectly Procured Pantry

It's a new year. A new start. So obviously, the perfect time to get your kitchen affairs in order. And that would begin with a clean sweep of the pantry. Could yours ever look like the above? Hmmm? My guess is not if you have a life. You needn't be an anal librarian who has alphabetized her spice bottles. But you can clean out those who've crossed the line into adulthood: those 20 year old babies you've had since you got married, divorced, remarried. And stock yourself with everything fresh you need for just about everything you might want to make. After all, there's nothing that kills the mood more than having to get dressed and make a run to the store (of course, I'm talking about cooking). So, like a Girl Scout---be prepared.

This year, I'll be sharing some of my favorite staples and the corresponding simple uses and recipes for which I keep them stocked. So, ready, set, start restocking!

January staples--canned tomatoes & chicken broth

These are items I always have in stock; especially during fall and winter. In fact, you can pick up those 28 oz. cans of crushed tomatoes on sale for $1 each: a real bargain that goes a long way.

First of all, it is a must for all pasta sauces after you've exhausted any supply of summer tomatoes you've had frozen. I saute a big of garlic, onion, celery and carrot in a combo of olive oil and butter, then add the crushed tomatoes, a bit of chicken stock and possibly a splash of wine. (one for me, one for the sauce). I also use it for a hearty tomato/beef soup that warms the stomach and soul during the coldest winter days. * recipe below. And those smaller cans of diced tomatoes (especially the fire roasted variety) are a perfect base for salsa---a topping for nachos, which is just perfect for football Sundays or party appetizers.

The chicken stock comes in handy for all my sauces--it just adds flavor, plus for any au jus needs for meat dishes. In a pinch, I may pick up an already store-roasted chicken for dinner one night. Then save the bones and left-over meat for soup the next night. The chicken broth is a perfect base for the soup. But my favorite use of chicken stock in the winter is for Jacques Pepin potatoes. They are super easy and super tasty. *link to recipe below.

You needn't be a serious cook to do any of these dishes. And cooking is, well creative and a perfect hobby for those long winter days. Now, give this a try some weekend. I guarantee, you'll love it.

Spicy Tomato Soup

1 lb. ground beef

4 c cubed, peeled potatoes
1 small onion
3 eight oz. cans tomato sauce or one 28 oz. can
4 c. water
2 tsp salt
1 1/2 tsp pepper
1/2 tsp. hot pepper sauce

Brown beef and drain. Add potatoes, onion and tomato sauce. Stir in water, salt, pepper and hot pepper sauce. Bring to a boil. Reduce heat and simmer for about an hour until potatoes are tender and soup becomes thickened.

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Jacques Pepin Potatoes

If you don't try anything else new, do give these delicious potatoes a try some cold, winter day. They are as easy as mashed potatoes, with a decadent potato feel. It's definitely the flavor of chicken broth---and oh, maybe all of the butter.

http://www.foodnetwork.com/recipes/rachael-ray/yukon-gold-potatoes-jacques-pepin-style-recipe/index.html