The Adventures of Mrs.Movie Snob

For the last year I've been saying  that we are living in the shit-storm montage that you see at the beginning of every post-apocalyptic film. (*cue the zombies*) I have yet to be proven wrong. This last week, though, we hit the gas pedal. You can't turn on the news without being inundated with COVID-19 updates. Everything is cancelled. Everything is scarce. Everyone is home. (Well, everyone that can be) And so begins the era of self-quarantine - an era, I hope, we'll look back on fondly in a few weeks when this is all over. Until then, though, guess what? We're all in this together. The Sullys' have not been exposed (that I know of). We have not been out of the country. (for far too long) But, we will still do our part and I hope you will too. It's going to be a long few weeks, to be sure. But we WILL get through it. Our families live in the USA. On a good day, I'm worried about them given current affairs. I've been watching the news, of c...

I’ve become the very thing I used to mock. If 5-years-ago-me   heard some of the things coming out of Today-me’s mouth regularly, I’d scoff, “Suck it up!” and take another bite of my extra-cheese pizza and gulp a drink of beer. But, oh how times have changed. I’ve been reduced to 3 questions: “Do you have gluten-free options?” “Can I get lactose-free milk?” “Is it possible to leave off the sesame seeds?” A little background: I’ve basically been in some sort of pain for about the last year or so. I got used to taking daily Ibuprofen’s, sometimes Naproxen. Some days Ibuprofen and Aspirin. And still some days both with a heating pad. That’s just how it was going to be now. I’m in my 40’s and (according to one useless Doctor’s analysis and dismissal) and I should just learn to cope as I begin my decade-long slide into menopause. Yeah, thanks. My discomfort sent me to the emergency room 3 times. Blood work showed nothing and I was beginning to lose hope. Then, af...

Why is everyone so angry lately? In public. Online. On the roads. It’s so exhausting. The very air can be so heavy sometimes. And it can really beat you down if you let too much of it in. We can all do better. I can definitely be  impatient. Sometimes, I get triggered, sure. When these situations arise, though, we have a choice; hastily react or pause (breathe, if necessary) and assess the actual scenario. I’ll let you in on a little secret. I have terrible anxiety. And, unfortunately, it seems to be getting worse as I get older. Ironically, I always thought the opposite would happen. You grow up and you’re supposed to let minor bullshit go, right? The answer is a bit more complicated than “yes or no.” I can let minor things go, yes. But usually it’s only after I’ve obsessed for a while. And now, for added fun, I find I obsess over very different things than I used to. Gone are the days or worrying what I’m going to wear out or when my paper is due. (Well, not complet...

Once upon a time, in the magical land of my youth, a decade seemed like a long time. Seriously. Stop for a moment and think about the time that slowly passed between 10 years old and 20 years old; 17 years old and 27 years old. Somewhere around 30, however, the passage of time seemed to change. It did for me, anyway. Time, which was once measure only for  me , now passed in " years married " and " Isabel's Birthday's ." And in these precious increments - time flies. How often I've found myself muttering (I mutter now), "How is it already ?" or  "That seems like yesterday." Or my latest declaration, " We've been in Canada for 10 years." Now, before I move on, let's process that last one... I've been in Canada for 10 years. (*silently contemplating*) 10 years in Canada. (*shivering*) 10 YEARS. (*apologizes Canadianly*) As if moving from the southern US to the frosty North wasn't life-chang...

On one of our first dates, Matt took me to Luby's for lunch. I remember sitting there giggling over a heap of fried okra (and other delectable cafeteria fare) and thinking, "This guy someone I want to know." Just a few hours earlier, he had picked me up, drove me to the mall and told me he wanted "to buy me something pretty." Indeed he did. No expense was spared, in fact. After, we ate Luann Platters and   toasted our sweet tea in plastic cups. The bar was set pretty high. I couldn't have been happier. And that's my Matthew in a nutshell. He treats me like a queen wherever we go - be it a fancy boutique or a greasy diner. The world is our stage and we're always having a ball. Ask anyone. It's funny to me that two people who swore they would never EVER get married turned out to be really good at it. We fight, sure. (Boy! We've had some good ones!) We annoy each other almost daily. (Just put the dishes in the sink, ok?!) But we also laugh. ...

I don't have a dad. I never have. The S.O.B. is out there somewhere. Just nowhere I've ever known about. I've only ever been Debbie's daughter. I was briefly a step daughter - by law - to a very cruel man that my Mother married when I was a child. Father material, though, he was not. The only positive male role model that I can remember early on is my Grandfather, Inez. And when he was around, which wasn't too often because we lived far away, I'd feel like a princess. Still do. (All his granddaughters do. He's our hero.) So, when social media is saturated on Father's Day with images of loving, attentive, present Daddies, I find myself in foreign territory; somewhere on the outside looking in on a strange exhibit. I equate it to going to a history museum and staring blankly at a scene set in olden days. I can't relate. That's how they lived? How strange. I'm not sad, really. Or jealous. Anymore. I'm at an age where I can take...