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      Sunday, July 16, 2017



otherstuff
12:52 PM - 07/16/2017

The topic: What the hell was that all about?

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So, we have Disney movie rewards and Regal rewards. Regal is a theater chain. This summer, they had a promotion together, that you see Guardians of the Galaxy, Vol 2, Pirates of the Caribbean Dead Men Tell No Tales, and Cars 3 that you get a bazillion points if you see all three. Well, maybe bazillion isn't the right amount, but if you see all three and use your Regal Crown rewards card, you'll end up with thousands of points. For Disney, you get over a thousand points.

This morning, we finished out the last of the three. We went to see Cars 3. There weren't very many people (we try to catch these as late as possible, since almost anyone who wants to see a movie, has seen it by this point).  Guardians had one other couple, there were a few more than that at Pirates, but not many. This morning had more than the other two put together.

With kids. Brian reminded me "you have to remember what the movie is".  That was okay, kids don't bother me. As long as they aren't major distractions, running up and down the steps or crying their heads off. One family had two boys, probably two and three years old and a baby in a carrier. There were a couple of dads with the kids, mom not present. Mom's day alone! Yay! Uninterrupted housework or just putting her feet up and chillaxing for a couple of hours.

So, the previews start. I fekking start to cry. I don't feel sad. The previews aren't particularly pulling at my heartstrings. Well, the one for Fernando caught my heart. But, I'm sitting there wondering what the hell is going on? Why the tears? No reason. There was absolutely no reason for it.

It stopped after the movie started (after the short, which was really good; and brought more tears). But I sat there trying to figure out why the waterworks. I ended up putting it off to how stressful the past months have been. My back going out, then DaNiece (who is still showing progress). Some sort of emotional release.

So, we're about an hour into the movie when the youngest boy in the row down starts getting antsy. Like toddlers do. Having to sit still for so long has to be tough. Dad did his best, taking the kids to the end of the row and walked up and down the aisle with them. It was at the side, it affected no one's view of the film and gave the kids some movement.

But that just wasn't enough. The little boy started to whine, he cried a little, and he settled down, but ten minutes later, he was back up. He actually walked to the end of the row we were on (we sit on the end so I don't have to crawl over people or chairs when I have to use the restroom), up the steps and I kind of caught his attention and whispered he should go back to his mom and dad. The steps are staggered as for depth and he had legs shorter than mine and I didn't want to see him fall. His dad finally noticed that Junior wasn't sitting by mom. She was watching the movie.

They left shortly after that. I guess the kid just wasn't ready for the big screen. I felt kind of bad for the parents, but these outings are needed to gauge the children's development, I guess. At least the parents were considerate enough to choose a viewing when the theater was almost empty.

Anyway, the movie's over, we leave. I mention the crying to Brian. Imagine my surprise when he said he cried all through the movie! He said his eyes would dry up, then something would happen and he'd start again.

I said "must have been all of the onions".  He looked puzzled, then got it and let out a little chuckle.

Yeah,. I think it's stress. For both of us. It was good for us both to get away from the house for a couple of hours.

On more exciting news, Game of Thrones, season 7 starts in seven hours and forty-five minutes!


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lisaviolet is sixty something, married with no kids, takes care of lots of cats, likes taking photographs, loves Southern California weather and spends altogether too much time avoiding her responsibilities.

In her spare time, she makes pretty things to sell in her store.

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