Creepified, or, No, seriously, this isn’t a mommy blog (NOT THAT THERE’S ANYTHING WRONG WITH THAT)

The use of the superlative is always problematic when discussing opinions or preferences (yes, that was intentional). So I’ll tone back and say that Pan’s Labyrinth is in my top ten favorite movies of all time. I don’t normally like horror movies, what with the horror and the gore (insert cheap joke about An Inconvenient Truth here) and the stupid people doing stupid things (or here, depending on how snarkily right-wing you’re feeling). Let’s split up and wander around the haunted mansion/deserted parking garage! I’ll investigate that suspicious noise in that dark room! By myself! Barefoot!

I assume there are plenty of good horror movies as well, so don’t get up in my grill about it, honey bunch. I doubt there are many that hold a candle to Pan’s Labyrinth, though. The most disturbing part of the film to me is not the terrific monsters, the villain’s slashed mouth, or the bisected finger. It occurs after the girl scrambles through her magical door to escape from the beast with eyeballs in the palms of his hands. She slams the door shut, and it becomes a part of her bedroom floor, sealing out the horror below. But the creature’s thumps and supernatural moans can still be heard, mixing with and then turning into the natural sounds of the howling wind and creaking house. They last a hair’s breadth too long to be comfortable. It is a moment that says: You are not safe from evil, even here in your own room. Which seems like one of del Toro’s points. A very pointy movie, in many ways.

I thought of this because our apartment is full of disconcerting noises. Possibly this contributes to Max’s poop problem; he’s a bit high-strung. I’m not a movie critic – maybe I sound like an idiot. I don’t know. To change the subject drastically, I hate not to include pictures when I’ve got ’em. Wildlife? Babies? Babies eating wildlife? Wildlife eating babies? Step right up.

I saw several deer on my walk with The Sickly Child yesterday, and as I attempted to get a clear shot, a lady pulled up next to us and stuck her head out the window to grouse, “Those things are all over the place, and folks in my neighborhood are all getting Lyme disease, so I wouldn’t be too welcoming.” Well, of course, we WERE being a bit too welcoming. I was trying to French kiss a handsome buck, and TSC was shining their hooves with her scarf.

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Sat on a few kids this morning. Have you seen more delicious pink-and-white children in your life? (A resounding NO from the audience.)(A few objections, rapidly suppressed, are raised concerning assigning food adjectives to children.) When the next one pops out this summer, I’m going to line them up like matrushka dolls and parade them down Kirkwood Avenue.

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If I look somewhat…what’s the word?…high? in that picture, it’s merely because the photographer was a 5-year-old amateur. I can only hold a natural smile for so long.

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~ by themeansister on February 11, 2009.

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