Yay! I'm delighted to announce that there will indeed be a fifth Gardella book about Victoria, tentatively slated for release in early 2009.

It should be the last one about Victoria and company, and then…who knows what will happen next.

A different Venator in a different time period? Maybe. We'll see.

Where/when would you like to read about another female Venator? 

I like Steve Carell, and this was billed as a romantic comedy, so I dragged my Music Man for a date-night last Friday.

At first, I was engaged. Carell is nice to look at in an Everyman sort of way, and he plays his role with ease. The three daughters he (a widower) is charged with raising are of various ages, with various issues. The youngest one reminded me so much of my own youngest!

Juliette Binoche, the love interest, looked exactly like a dark-haired Julia Roberts–it was so distracting! Other cast members include the actress who played Ross's ex-wife's lesbian lover (on Friends) and Emily Blunt, the first assistant from The Devil Wears Prada. Dianne Wiest, looking very matronly, and John Mahoney (whom I love) played Carell's parents.

That's the good stuff.

The rest….meh…not so much.

The story line was uber-predictable and pushed the envelope wayyy far. First of all, though, I had a problem with believing in the connection between Carell and Binoche–and for a romantic comedy to work, you've gotta believe in The Connection.

Actually, let me clarify: I believed in his connection to her, but hers to him? No. Not ever. Not until the very end, when an extremely transparent attempt to make a When Harry Met Sally… double-date-switcheroo forced her to respond accordingly. But by then, it was required. So I still didn't believe it.

I mean, the first time they meet, he talks for hours–probably two or three–to her. She does nothing but sit there and smile and listen. And we get panned in with the camera from every angle, near and far, and all we see is him talking. And talking. And talking.

Now that's all fine and well, but I find it hard to buy that she felt a connection to him when he didn't give a rat's behind about her situation and what made her tick–for hours.

I mean, have you ever fallen for a guy (or girl) who blabbed at you for hours? What connection??? 

But, of course, if he had asked her one simple question about her, we wouldn't have had a story.

Anyway, the other scene that bothered the crap out of me, completely destroying me suspension of disbelief is what I'll call the shower scene. If you don't want to have any part of the flick spoiled for you, don't read the next paragraph or so. (It's not a big spoiler, plotwise, anyway.)

So, we've got Carell's oldest daughter, whose 17, who's taken a shine to Binoche's character. Carell and Binoche are pretending they don't know each other as they spend a weekend at Carrell's parent's home, so they're sneaking around–him trying to talk to her, her completely blowing him off.

Anyway, so the oldest daughter comes into the bathroom where this woman she's just met is getting ready to take a shower. Unbeknownst to the daughter, her father is in there also, trying to talk to Binoche. He slips into the tub/shower when the daughter comes in, so he can hide from her.

The daughter proceeds to sit on the pot and tell Binoche to go ahead and shower, she really just needs to talk–someone to listen to her. She's just met this woman, and she's infringing on her shower?

Yeah. I couldn't handle that.

But it gets better.

So Binoche strips and gets into the shower, where Carrell is hidiing, and stands there, naked, under the water with him while his daughter rambles on about teenage angsty shit.

It was at that point that I realized I didn't want to finish the movie. I almost left.

I did end up staying, but it so didn't work for me on many (more) levels. I'm bummed, because I like Carrell and the premise was cute.

But. Ugh. I definitely don't recommend this at $8.50 a ticket. Maybe rent the DVD when it comes out if you can deal with the ridiculous plot. 

Anyone else see this and have a different take?

My maternal grandmother passed away on Sunday evening.

She was 91, and although her health had been deteriorating for the last couple years, she was and always will remain an unbelievably special person in my life.

From my earliest age, I can remember opening her Christmas gifts on Christmas Eve–they were the only gifts we were allowed to open that night. We always knew what the packages would contain: brand new, cozier than cozy, pajamas made specially for us by Grandma.

I still have one of those lovely, warm nightgowns that Grandma made for me. It's more than twenty years old, and I still wear it. White flannel with pink rosebuds on it, an empire waist tied with a slender pink ribbon…and white lace edging the cuffs and a deep v-neck.

I'll wear it many nights this winter in memory.

It seems that through my entire life, Grandma expressed her love for me, and celebrated each milestone through her talent with the needle and sewing machine.

She made my senior prom dress from a pattern I picked out from a designer book.

She and my mother pieced together the bridal gown I wanted using three or four different patterns to copy a designer gown I'd fallen in love with

Not more than a week after I announced I was pregnant with her first great-grandchild, I received a package in the mail with a tiny white jacket. Grandma had sewn the jacket and embroidered little birds and flowers and bees and other images on the jacket. I still have it, and all of my children have worn it.

It was a tragedy when Grandma's arthritis became too painful for her to do two of the three things she loved to do: sew and play the piano. (ETA: my mom just reminded me that Grandma NEVER stopped playing the piano–even up to a month ago, before her first stroke.) I was glad she could still manage her garden–for besides being a talented seamstress, Grandma had a green thumb.

She lived in the Upper Peninsula of Michigan, only a few miles from Lake Superior, and the growing season was horribly short and tough for a woman who loved to garden like she did, so Grandma made the most of it. She grew vegetables (and fought the deer and rabbits and other varmints religiously) and flowers–in particular, sweet peas, and a rosebush that she sent home with me one year. 

It's a stubborn rosebush, not unlike my grandma. It only blooms once every other year. But it grows like a weed every summer, taking over my pathway with its sharp thorns. 

I think this will be one of the summers it blooms. I hope it goes wild, so I can remember my grandma as beautiful and free as she was during her younger years–and as she surely is now.

I mean, which one would you take home? Srsly. There's no contest.

Is there????

(Is it me, or does Cruise look rather Hitlerish with his current 'do?) 

Cannot wait for I Am Legend. You?

(Sorry so short–rough weekend. More tomorrow.)

(Does anyone else remember having a first- or second-grade reading book with that title? I remember mine was pink, I think, with a big purple seven on it. I think.)

Anyway. I stole borrowed this idea from CafeWriting.com, and thought it would be a fun exercise for a Friday.

So here goes….name seven of your favorite words.

1. maelstrom

2. squelch

3. warren

4. cull

5. prevaricate

6. scarlet

7. metamorphosis