Wednesday, April 23, 2008
Tuesday, April 22, 2008
We always try to visit Carden's former therapy team from the autism days. Elley (behavioral therapist), Bonnie (speech therapist), Marieta (personal aide), and Kathleen (occupational therapist, not pictured) have remained wonderful friends and sources of encouragement. We are so blessed that Carden has no autism diagnosis and appears to be a typical boy. Thanks in large parts to their efforts, he has the whole world ahead of him.
Sunday, April 6, 2008
When Seth became mobile, we still lived in that small apartment and Carden didn't have any small toys that qualified as choking hazards.
Now it's Charlotte's turn, and I am dismayed to realize that this time I have to contend with a house containing two staircases and a great many choking hazards. So this week the marble games, army men, action figure accessories, and bingo markers get shelved. Can't say I'm too disappointed, since these are also the toys that I'm constantly stepping on or vaccumming.
Wednesday, April 2, 2008
I get it now.
A month ago I saw "Bride & Prejudice." Jane Austen meets Bollywood--definitely a case of when worlds collide. Without rehashing the plot, which if you've seen any remake of "Pride and Prejudice" you know, I'll just say that I saw my culture through another's eyes.
I had never seen any Bollywood films (Bollywood = Bombay + Hollywood) before. According to Wikipedia, Bollywood films are famous for their splashy musical extravaganzas, something I didn't know before I watched "B&P," but I definitely know now. I plopped down on my couch, popcorn in hand (shoulda been a mango lassi, but this is Utah County and lassis are hard to come by), unaware I was in for some major culture shock.
I think I was more than a little dazed by the Day-Glo costumes and sets. And seeing the rich, young, U.S. hotel scion introduce himself as Will Darcy, or hearing the backpacking college student on the Goa beach say he's Johnny Wickham gives you a serious mental double-take. Throw in singing village merchants and a snake dance, and I was left wondering if all Indian villages come backed with a catchy soundtrack. Is every Indian wedding a three-day affair requiring the footwork of Fred Astaire--or MC Hammer?
A few days later I'd recovered enough to realize that the film was about as authentic India as walking down a U.S. street in a downpour, swinging an umbrella and singing about the rain. I understood that Dad was right: The musical numbers are pointless! They don't have anything to do with the plot--they're just fun, and what's better than that?
So last week when I spied a copy of "Bride & Prejudice" at the used video store I didn't miss a beat. It's now on the shelf with the rest of those gems of cinematic achievement, the Broadway musicals.
Wait till my Dad sees it.