Martinis and Mediocrity

 I cried today.  I haven't cried too much during the last year. Lost my temper, yes. Ate my feeling, yes. Put way too much pressure on my daily walk to be my only coping mechanism,  absolutely.  But I haven't really cried.  We haven't suffered too much. Matt still has his job. We are healthy. We haven't lost anyone. We're back at Mass. It's okay.  But today I cried. We withdrew our son from one of his activities at least until he can go back to in person, and we have no idea when that will be. The school did everything they could, the teacher was great, but an anxious kid who can't read the computer screen can only handle so many months of virtual lessons in his living room. It was just too much.  And that really, really got to me. Not only was he losing the thing that he loved, the thing that defined him and our family, but it. was. my. last. straw.  I made it until I got him to bed. And then I freaking lost it. I just sobbed and sobbed over the loss of th

Generally, I am critical of remakes. They try too hard, they never have the magic of the first iteration, and I have to listen to my husband whine about how nothing is like it used to be, as though he were 86 and not 37.  There are, of course, exceptions. Charlie and the Chocolate Factory is a notable one, because who in their right mind would pick Gene Wilder over Johnny Depp? Yeah, yeah, Milwaukee's favorite son, whatever. Say "hold on" again, Johnny.  The other biggie is Miracle on 34th Street from 1994, which is so much better than the 1947 version that they're basically different stories.  So I poured myself a martini and made a list of allllll the reasons it is so much better while we watched it the other night.  (Bonus game- see if you can see when I poured myself a second martini in this list!) 1.) Better music.  2.) Better parade.  3.) Warm Fuzzy 90s feelings. (This might be more just me. Quarantine has been hard y'all.) 4.) Bad ass women boss Elizabeth P