Yesterday I fulfilled a parenting fantasy I'd had since I was eleven years old: Watching Raider of the Lost Ark with my daughter. And Iz loved it! She didn't even mind that I covered her eyes during any mummy/impalement/melting & exploding heads scenes. I am now suffused with the glow of long-held wish fructification.
Raiders was one of my favorite movies, ever. (Which means that I've probably written about it before in this space. I'm not sure; I used to be a very chatty chatty blogger back when this journal held a bigger therapeutic role and I only had two children, so the archives slogging and purging is slow going.) Anyhow. It played at our local theater, the Cineramadome, for 52 weeks. I probably saw it ten times in the theater, two consecutive viewings at a time. All those years later, it still holds up nicely although a bit simplisticallly and nonsensically.
Tomorrow we are going to make another wish come true by going to see Annie Get Your Gun, live, on stage. I only wish my dad was here to go, too; I got my love of musicals from him, and we saw several a year. But we are going with the very knowledgeable and enthusiastic Godfather M (who is newly returned from Greece, where he for some reason did not attempt to photo-recreate any scenes from Asterix at the Olympic Games).
In January a third parenting wish will come true when Iz and I use the power of our passports to travel to a location outside of North America. Can you guess where we're going? All I will say is that the country is in another hemisphere entirely, and that it's a reinstated kingdom. EEEEEEP!
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