Flavor of the Week

You've heard me gush about Matt and Jake, I know.

But there's a new man closing in on my old standbys...even if I might have to convince you of his talents.

Ashton, my friends, can act.

I haven't yet seen The Guardian, but I plan to. And trust me, it's the kind of movie I would have passed up even on standard cable had they not cast this man as a lead.

I always found him to be synonymous with his Kelso character on That 70s Show, really. Cute-ish, but not intelligent and certainly no special actor.

I was wrong. In the past few months, I've happened upon The Butterfly Effect, Guess Who, and, most importantly, A Lot Like Love. This one was the kicker---not an Oscar-worthy movie, I admit, but SO enjoyable. And Ashton shows he can be likeable and believable in a sweet, funny, tender role. He's actually really quite good.

Then I read the cover story of Details magazine this month and a few other articles coinciding with The Guardian's release, and learned that he majored in biological engineering or something ridiculous in college in Iowa before being discovered as a model and making the move to LA. He's smart. And he loves his wife. And he can act.

So I've made a little spot for him on my personal adulation shelf. Hey, why not? There's room for one more.

She's Crafty

One of the hardest things to do when you're the parent of small children is determine which pieces in the sea of ever-growing artwork you will preserve for all eternity.

This is no small task. It occurs daily, and grows exponentially with each passing year. Having three little Picassos in one house means I have LOTS of conversations with myself about what stays and what goes.

For the most part, it's a process of elimination system. If it looks in any way unique, of higher- than-yesterday's-version quality, or includes extras like buttons or feathers, I usually keep it.

But....therein lies the next hurdle. Keep it WHERE? Keep it HOW? And do I have the ability/memory/time to identify which little person it came from? Do I bother to find a pen to add a date?

Typically, no. Typically, it's a toss into the pile of "I'll get these organized later" counterparts that simply gets bigger and bigger and bigger. Typically, then the whole kitandkaboodle gets put into a large blue bin. Where it sits unmarked/unidentified/undated.

Happily, my brilliant (with an English accent) friend Suzy has come up with the perfect solution to this problem. Got kids? You. Must. Buy. This. Stuff.

Seriously, it's Pottery Barn cute and all you do is tuck in the pictures. There are no goofy, scrapbooky parts to suffer through. I can't wait to fill mine in.

Crocodile Rock

As a follow up to my previous post, I'd just like to add this eloquent summary from environmental legend Jean-Michel Cousteau:

"Irwin would interfere with nature, jump on animals, grab them, hold them, and have this very, very spectacular, dramatic way of presenting things. Of course, it goes very well on television. It sells, it appeals to a lot people, but I think it's very misleading. You don't touch nature, you just look at it. And that's why I'm still alive. I've been diving over 61 years — a lot many more years that he's been alive — and I don't mess with nature."

Exactaaaaactly.

And, don't hold your infant in front of a hungry crocodile either. Too. Also that.

Harden my Heart

Here's a story about the Crocodile Hunter being killed by a stingray while filming a documentary.

Here's a blog post from a woman who thinks that, despite his desire to preserve the environment and protect endangered species is admirable, he's a shmuck.

I mean, c'mon. In a word, duh.

What do you THINK is going to happen when you inject yourself into the natural habitat of dangerous wild animals? At least it was he who perished and not his infant son, who he carried in one arm while feeding a crocodile in the other awhile back. This being, of course, the real reason I'm anti-Hunter.

Before anyone gets defensive (I can appreciate the flamboyant gab and hyped up personality that framed his work), keep in mind that there are others who have found a balance between education/preservation and involvement in the animal kingdom. Gorillas in the Mist, anyone?

It's just hard for me to be too broken up about it. Nature's survival of the fittest, or God's plan or whatever you want to call it, 'twas bound to happen. I'm sorry for his wife and kids, but I simply cannot muster too much sorrow beyond that.