Monthly Archives: November 2012

Thinkin’ about…

Hamsgiving!

Each year, our kids end up going to several Thanksgiving dinners, at which they are presented with the standard turkey-and-stuffing fare. Well, last Thanksgiving, I thought I’d give everyone a break from the “sameness,” and cook a ham instead. It went over like the Goodyear blimp on Super Bowl Sunday.

So, at the Fink house this Wednesday night (another change we made, since the actual Thanksgiving Day is so crowded for them), we will have a delectable Virginia or Kentucky ham, mashed potatoes, candied yams, green beans and corn, yeast rolls, cranberry sauce (from the can, and I am not ashamed to admit it because I love the stuff and it reminds me of home and childhood, so there — mock me if you must), a fruity salad, pumpkin pie, key lime pie and chocolate pie. Boom.

I find also that there is a built-in tendency to overeat when there’s a turkey on the table…like it’s coded into our DNA that if we see a stuffed bird, we must become one. That temptation is somewhat diminished with the ham butt. Tasty.

Seeing as how it’s all going down on a school day, I thought I would not bake pies this year. Mavis is taking care of the homemade pumpkin pies for everyone, and Edwards is doing the rest. Again: don’t judge. Hamsgiving is for family! Can’t wait to get to it. Mavis and I haven’t had full-contact kitchen exercises in quite awhile.

What are your plans? Anything fun?

Finalmente

At long last, finally, it’s about time, where have you been, I’ve waited ten years, I thought you’d never get here.

Finkday.

Wow. The longest five days in the history of the world. Why do some weeks fly, and others drag? What is it about our temporal senses that changes with activity? Why do we complain when time flies, and complain when it drags? Answer me my questions three.

So, what’s up for your weekend? Did you know that Thursday is Thanksgiving already? Where did the last month go? Just when you want stuff to hurry up and get here, it’s here and gone. Is this the way the rest of my life is going to play out? I’m afraid so. Today, I say we focus on sniffing those roses.

Armchair wisdom from the Fink at 5:30 a.m.  You’d think I was all peppy & stuff because I will see my grandsons this weekend. Oh wait…

:-)

Thoughts at 1:30 a.m.

I shouldn’t even have any. I should be completely lights-out. But here I sit, thinking about you. And about 40 other things…

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Now it’s 2:48, and I’ve graded some assignments. Maybe I’ll go lie down for a snooze.

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Welp, 4:20 and that didn’t work. So I went to grammarly.com for some nerdytainment. I feel another Schmenglish post coming on. :-) Here’s a preview:

I predict that in 35 minutes (because it is now 4:25 a.m.), I will be ready for a long, long nap.

Oy.

Review: Argo

Unexpected. Suspenseful. Riveting. Exhausting. Fun.

It seems that, after an interesting career thus far (a couple of big hits and a few misses), Ben Affleck has “arrived.” I wouldn’t have used the above descriptors to classify many of his past films, but as good fiend Tom Hanks and I found out: folks can surprise you.

First — let me get this out of the way, as Tom will likely smack himself in the forehead when he reads it: Affleck is dreamy in this movie. Think Serpico, fellow 70s relics. This, from someone who really never thought he was good looking at all. OK, most important detail aside, let’s get to the story.

When I first heard about the film (the true story of how the CIA planned to free the hostages in Iran by sending in an operative posing as a sci-fi filmmaker to smuggle them out), I thought it referred to “those” hostages. You know, the 52 Americans held for 444 days after the deposing of the Shah and the rise to power of Ayatollah Khomeni. What was I thinking? Actually, six Americans escaped that day by bolting out a side entrance and fleeing to the residence of the Canadian ambassador to Iran. This is their story.

Affleck’s character, a CIA “exfiltrator” named Tony, is given the impossible task of rescuing the six frightened embassy workers before the Iranian Guard find out and parade their executions in the town square, igniting what could be all-out war between the US and Iran. When all “bad ideas” are exhausted by CIA brass (Bryan Cranston is completely convincing as Affleck’s supervisor), Tony offers this last-ditch scheme: pretend they’re filmmakers, in Iran scouting for a new movie location. They do a quick tour of the city, then fly out the next day. With the notion that it’s the “best bad idea” they have, the project gets the green light.

Tony gives them fake identities, passports, backstories and jobs. Their fear of being discovered by extremely crafty Iranian interrogators at checkpoints and the airport is infectious and well-acted by a sextet of people I’ve never heard of. This was part of what Affleck got really right: the authenticity. From the set designs to the costumes to the hair styles — it felt like 1980. No accidental anachronisms, no insincerity or back-handed attempts at caricature (although John Goodman and Alan Arkin were beyond funny as a washed-up makeup artist and has-been Hollywood producer, respectively). At one crucial point, when you think they might have just pulled this off, a member of the fake film crew starts speaking in Farsi to a belligerent policeman — thereby threatening to expose their very fragile cover story. I found myself saying, silently, “No! Stop! You’re blowing up the whole thing!”

Till the last scene, the suspense is uncomfortable, and Affleck builds it slow and painful-like. Superbly acted and photographed, this is a must-see.

On the Rat-O-Meter scale of five cheeses, I give Argo:

 

Deeper meaning

What must it be like, going to basic training? It’s nothing like sleep-away camp, I’m certain. Unless you’re the Thriller. Here’s a story.

He still calls his basic training at Naval Station Great Lakes “Boy Scout Camp.” Coming from a difficult adolescence (he and his step-father had some issues, as is often the case in those situations) and wanting to break free, he was ready for anything that might help  him “get out of there.” The Navy offered him a ticket to independence, and after graduating high school in 1969, he went for it. He repeatedly enlisted, and served a total of eight years.

I say here today, as I said on Facebook this morning: thank you to the Thriller, for your years of service to your country. While he was shorebound (a jet aircraft mechanic), his service was integral to the cause.

There is a deeper issue that I wonder about with regard to our servicemen and women. It takes some real mental fortitude to deal with the possibility of dying a violent death — not to mention the loneliness, uncertainty, and utter despair they must certainly feel at times. It is no wonder that some people return from war and are never the same. So the deeper meaning here today is that soldiers/sailors/airmen don’t just go off to war, do the job and come back to parades. They willingly alter their lives — sometimes permanently — defending tens of millions of people they will never meet. For that, I salute them all. You have more courage than I can imagine.

Yay for our vets! Share a shout-out in the comments today if you love a veteran, too.