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Caine ZuluThis weekend, I have two of my very favorite action movies coming along from Netflix, Zulu and The Hunt For Red October.  I plan to let the eldest gel watch them with me.  She’s eleven now, and is ready to start stepping up to this sort of thing.

It occurred to me that in setting up the stories for the gel, it is going to take at least as much effort to explain the Soviet Union and the Cold War as it is to explain 19th Century British Imperialism.   This was a bit of a staggerer, given that at her age, the Iron Curtain and the Soviet threat were very real and everyday facts to me.  Just goes to show my age, I suppose.  Connery October

Of course, the other aspect of her age is that I wonder what she will make of Caine and Connery?  No harm in drawing her attention to the right sort of fellah earlier rather than later.  Who knows? It might even get her off her Orlando Bloom kick.

Yesterday afternoon as I was driving over to softball practice  I took a sharp turn, causing the sunglasses that were sitting on the ol’ Jeep’s dashboard to go flying out over the right hand door and into the middle of a busy intersection.

Well, so much for them.

What kind of shades are teh cool kids wearing these days?

Yesterday afternoon was the annual spring arts production at St. Marie of the Blessed Educational Method.

As they do every year, the lower elementary kiddies put on a production of a musickal called “Mufaro’s Beautiful Daughters”.  Set in ancient Zimbabwe, it tells the tale of Manyara and Nyasha.  The latter is sweet and kind and considerate.  The former is a bitch.  One day, a messenger comes from the King stating that he seeks a wife and is summoning all the beautiful girls of the kingdom to his city.  Well, you know how these things go….Manyara winds up getting sunk by her own bitchiness:  On her journey thither, she’s nasty to a hungry child, some old people and some trees and a big, bird-shaped, spirit thingy.  Nyasha, on the other hand, does all she can to be nice to them.  And in the end, when she meets the King, it turns out that he’s a magickal king and all these other characters were really him in disguise.

So the King marries Nyasha, and they kill and cook Maynara for the wedding feast.

Okay, I made up that last part.

The nine year old, in a piece of obvious type-casting, played the part of Nyasha.  And I must say that as revolting as the play itself was, I couldn’t help a small tear or two as I watched her up on the stage, beaming like a searchlight.  Somehow, it’s not going to be all that hard if and when her elder sister turns into a nasty, snarling teenager because that gel is already something of a crab-apple.  It will be infinitely harder to bear if this one, who currently has the temperment of an angel, should undergo such a metamorphosis.

The seven year old was in the play to, assigned a part in the chorus.  At one point, they were to mimic jungle creatures ad lib.  The gel, in another piece of type-casting, chose for herself a screaming monkey, emitting a high-pitched shriek that nearly took off the top of my head.   But with “Mufara’s Beautiful Daughters”, she was just getting warmed up.  After the play, the French and Spanish classes came on to show off their linguistic achievements in song.  The gel is in the Spanish class, along with about thirty other kids.  And yet, as they sang “Cieto Lindo” and “La Bamba”, she positively stole the show, jumpin’ and jammin’ like a combination of John Travolta and James Brown, while most of the rest of them stayed relatively stationary.  As I looked around, I noticed more and more people focusing their gaze on my little dynamo, who was positively lapping up.  If her sister’s eyes beamed like a searchlight, her’s were closer to twin acetyline torches.

Ham, anybody?


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June 2009