Tuesday, February 12, 2013


 Yesterday, the future me just went back in time 25 years and showed me this movie. After the movie, I went to a diner with myself and we had a conversation. It was more of an argument I guess. I kept telling my older self that I was boring and uptight. And my future self kept telling me to shut up and quit being such a smart alec. The banter between me and myself was pretty clever, but I don't really have time to go into that because I want to blog about the film Looper.  It's been a month since I saw the movie, and I'm still thinking about it.

  I'd like to pose two questions. First, if you could go back in time and kill Hitler before he had the chance to orchestrate the Holocaust, would you do it? Could you do it? Probably, right? What about if you had to do it when he was a baby? Could you kill baby Hitler? I really don't know if I could. Even knowing all the things I know about Hitler, I don't know if I could do it. I keep thinking about it and I decided that at the end of the day, I could do it, but it would be tough to kill a baby. Especially if it were a baby with that hilarious mustache. I mean, come on.

 Second question, if I could talk to my younger self, what would I say? If, like in the movie, my 50 year old self  went back in time to talk to my 30 year old self, I don't know what sage words of wisdom I will want to impart. But if my 33 year old self could go back in time and talk to my, lets say, 20 year old self, I have a pretty good idea of what I would say. I've thought it should be something like; spend more time loving your children, or give people the benefit of the doubt. But then I though about Looper. The real heart break of the film, is that we are rooting for young Joe, to immediately learn the lessons that it took old Joe 25 years to learn. But it's impossible. There is no way that I can make my 23 year old self (who is sleep deprived and clinically depressed) understand the importance of doing a puzzle with my kids. Heck, I can't make my 33 year old self (who is well adjusted and happy) understand the importance of doing a stupid puzzle with my kids. So I would not give any big picture, live in the moment advice, instead I would be very specific.

1. After birthing every baby, buy yourself an entire box of chocolates, or an entire cheesecake, and eat it all without feeling sharing or feeling guilty.

2. Here is a list with three names on it. When you have the opportunity, let 'em have it. Tear their heads off, rip them a new one. They deserve it. You won't regret it and you won't feel guilty.

3. Don't read Twilight 10 times, 9 is enough. 9 is enough.

4. When you and Peter are talking marriage, and he asks, "What kind of a ring do you want?" Immediately say, "One with as big of a diamond as you can afford." But you have to say it right away, if you let more than 3 seconds pass, he'll jump in with, "You don't want one of those rings with a giant diamond do you? Those are so gaudy." And you will have only known him for 5 months so you won't have the guts to disagree.

5. Leave Andrea Roche alone.

6. Shrimp Pizza is always a mistake.

Oh, one more thing, I'm not sure why, but Looper evoked in me the same thoughts and questions I had when I saw the Japanese film After Life. It is a must see. The premise of the film is the idea that after you die, you choose only one memory of your life on earth to keep for eternity. It's a pretty cool show.

   Finally, does anyone else think that young Joe looks like my high school friend James Pearce? James doesn't look like Joseph Gordon-Levitt, he doesn't look like Bruce Willis. But give Joseph Gordon-Levitt some Bruce Willis prosthetics, and you have James. It's uncanny!


Sunday, February 3, 2013

My Thumb

   I've been meaning to see a doctor about my left hand for years. With all my kids in school, I finally made an appointment to see an orthopedic surgeon. After sitting in the patient room, waiting in the room for the doctors to value my time, the PA came in to ask me a couple of questions, "What's the problem today?"

  "Well, I've never had full use of my left hand."
  "And how long has this been going on?"
  "Um, my whole life."

  The PA looked up from his papers to make sure he had heard correctly. I tried to think about how to explain that I knew it wasn't normal for someone to not see a doctor for something major like this until they were an adult, but instead I just started giggling. And the more the PA acted like it was totally normal, the harder I laughed. When he examined my two hands compared to each other and remarked that I was missing at least two major muscles in my palm, I totally fell apart. I know it isn't that funny. Really, I do, but I've said it before I'm a delicate flower of emotions. Finally, he asked why I was deciding to come in now after all this time. I stopped laughing and gave a very serious answer. "Well, I've been lifting weights pretty seriously for a couple of years now," (this is true, but I said it in a meat head voice so it would be funny and not weird) "And my right arm is starting to get seriously ripped,  but I can only do like 3 pull ups, I should be able to do 9 or 10." (this was a joke so I continued the meat head voice.) The PA didn't even crack a smile,  so I started giggling again. 
 After about 15 minutes of the PA taking x-rays, bringing in an actual doctor, and then finally a hand specialist, I received a diagnosis. "This is a minor case of what we call hypoplastic thumb, it is a birth defect that can be repaired with surgery. I don't actually do that surgery. You will have to go to a pediatric hand surgeon for that, because people usually have this problem taken care of when they are children." You would be proud to hear that I didn't laugh when she was talking, even when she emphasized the words 'when they are child-a-ren,' the way David Spade does when he is speaking to a mor-on.  Don't worry though, things got funny again, when the PA came back in. He gave me a piece of paper, one it was a list of people that could build me some kind of contraption that I could wear on my left hand, so that I could "go on to have a full and happy life," his words not mine. He even gave me the address of a special cross-fit gym that helped veterans who had lost limbs in the war and could definitely help a special case like mine. 

  Despite all the laughing, I left the doctor feeling crestfallen. I was hoping that they would give me some sort of solution to my problem, like some exercises I could do to strengthen my muscles, muscles that don't even exist. Stupid hypo-plastic thumb.

  Now here is the part where I give advice. When you receive a new and unfamiliar diagnosis from the doctor, don't run home and google it. It won't cheer you up at all. I know that seems like witch science, but you're gonna have to roll with me on this one. 

 Well, here is what a quick google of the words 'hypoplastic thumb' yielded. These are the least disturbing pics I could find. 
A moderate case, mine is mild. 

And the most famous case. A baby hand is a close relative of the hypoplastic thumb. 

  As I type this lengthy post, I realize that no one really cares about my thumb. I learned that lesson shortly after my doctor visit, I tried to tell a few people about my new diagnosis, but I bored everyone I told. Even my parents, I emailed them in Australia. My dad responded with, "I googled it, you got off easy. " And mom replied, "Treasure your individuality, miss bologna thumb!" Those are real responses. So if you see me, it would make me feel really special if you asked to see my deformed left hand and oooohed and ahhhed over it for a few seconds. Don't be grossed out, just amused, and ask a few questions, not too many, just a few, and then don't stare at it after. Ah, never mind, just ignore it.