The wonderous power of movies...bag ladies on the move...

I noticed she was shouting at Santa, though I couldn't hear what she was saying. By the way she was wagging her finger and gesturing wildly, I knew it was serious and Santa was head for the doghouse...again. I was going to ask her what the problem was later but she came up to me first.
Isobel: "Daddy, what does
Isobel: "Daddy, what does shite mean?"
Daddy: "It's the same as the 'S' word. It's the Scottish way of saying the 'S' word. Irish too I think."
Isobel: "Oh I'm Scottish, right?" ( I could hear the excitement in her voice)
Daddy: "Yes, partly Scottish." (I knew where this was headed so I changed the subject)
Daddy: "I noticed you were shouting at Santa, what did her do now?"
Isobel: (letting out huge sigh) "I don't like Santa anymore."
Daddy: "Why not honey? What did poor old St. Nick do now?
Isobel: " Santa's being like shite right now and I seriously do not like it."



I love the movies. The orchestrated scenario of going to the theatre was one of my favourite things from childhood and still one of my favourite things to do, even with my own kids...especially with my own kids.
Going with my mother was usually a breeze. She was either an excellent planner or multi tasker or a little of both. We were in the building and in our seats, goodies in hand before we knew it. Going to the movies with Dad was a little different and it didn't happen very often which is why it never failed to remain firmly fixed in my mind.
My Father hated to miss any aspect of the theatre experience and that included the previews. I can't fault him for it, I'm a preview junky myself. But we never seemed to leave the house on time, which set in motion a terrible chain of events that got worse as we went along. Because we were late leaving the house, we end up in the back of the massive line to see whatever we were seeing.(My Father never thought to take us to a second run movie) Which meant we were in the back of the line at the concession stand. 'Know what you want by the time we get up there.' he would always say and we would inevitably respond that we did. Though inevitably that would change at least six times by the time we got up to the counter. Dad always had the same thing, licorice all-sorts and a Coke. I guess he figured we should be as efficient.
Because we were so behind up to this point it meant the real possibility that we would be unable to sit together. I don't remember that ever happening but I remember being terrified and a little excited at the prospect of sitting by myself in the dark. We would take our seats as the lights went down and My father would breathe a sigh of relief at having pulled it off by the skin of his teeth. At some point before the main feature, I was almost certain to tell my father I had to go to the bathroom to which he cursed and muttered something about a bladder like a little girl. I was never certain what he meant by that and was secretly amazed by perfect the timing my little girl's bladder always had.
Now the kids and I love to go to the movies though I have a few ticks that are holdovers from my days of going to the movies with the old man. I leave entirely too early and I try to cram as much crap in my arms and pockets so I don't have to miss anything.(previews included) All children(read Isobel as The Boy has the bladder of a Nordic god and actually has to remember to go to the bathroom) must go pee before we leave the house AND as soon as we get to the theatre if there is even the slightest chance they will need to go once the movie has started.
I learned something this weekend that maybe I really didn't know or possibly learned and forgot or more likely, learned and it didn't really sink in... Apart from the person who makes a little tear in your ticket, you don't actually need to have any sort of contact with any one in the building aside from looking at them. Nary a word needs to be spoken in this modern age of ours.
Like my father before me, the best laid plans to have us out the door with plenty of time to spare had long since been shot to hell and my mood was starting to reflect it as I barked for the kids to hurry up and get in the car. We drove like a bat out of hell headed down the highway for the theatre and as we entered the building, I saw it there... a glowing bastion of technology and the saviour of dis organized fathers everywhere. The automatic ticket machine. I looked over to the ticket counter and the indecent line that was spewing from it. Cursing out loud now, though still unheard by anyone but me and the kids. The Boy pointed it out.
"What's that thing?" he asked.
"That's the...automatic ticket machine!" I said. (my mood going from black to rosy gold covered, sunshine M & M's quicker than you can say 'we are going to see The Green God-Damned Lantern and you sir, will have the extra large snack box for being an altogether clever ten year old.')
"You have to have a credit card to use one, I have a credit card. I am an adult." I said matter of factly.
"Really?" asked The Boy. "I would have never guessed that."
I couldn't determine if he was being sincere or being a smart ass but I let it go. He did put the ticket machine idea in my head. It the blink of an eye almost literally, we were in our seats. The kids were munching away at their individual kid sized snack packs and I was stuffing handfuls of Snocaps in my mouth before the crappy theatre trivia had ended...the previews hadn't even started yet. I found out later that not only can you pay your admission online but you can actually buy your snacks online too. You can print off a redeemable coupon for popcorn and sweeties and drinks and just present it to the person at the concession stand. There wouldn't be any question as to what you wanted so if you chose not to, you wouldn't even need to speak to the person and still get exactly what you wanted. Or if you would just as soon NOT stand in the concession line, they bring it to you on a rolling cart five or ten minutes before the movie begins. Ho, ho! The time alone this saves absolutely boggles the mind. My father would've crapped his pants with joyful abandon had this been available to him.
I mentioned a while back about taking The Boy to see The Incredible Hulk and how incredibly loud it was. The Green Lantern was twice as loud. I have diminished hearing in one ear and I thought it was loud. I remember watching horror movies when I was younger with hands covering my eyes, peeking out through fingers at parts that didn't sound too scary. My kids watched the movie with hands firmly over their ears. Only lowering their hands when there was little or no chance of anything remotely intense or action packed occurring on the screen. They saw the whole movie but heard only the kissing bits.
Somewhere around the middle of the movie, Isobel began to say she wanted to go home. I figured it was just due to the volume of the movie. I gave her a handful of Smarties and told her it would be over soon and we would go home then She seemed to be OK with that. But as we were leaving and I offered to spend some money in the theatre's arcade and she refused, that I knew it wasn't just the volume of the movie. She went to bed with out incident and seemed to be alright at bedtime. She woke up around three that morning and came into my room crying.
"What's the matter, honey?" I asked her.
"Green Lantrin." she sobbed.
"What?" I asked, not certain I had heard her right.
"The damn Green Lantrin gave me a headache."



I lived in the U.S. for a while and I had heard stories of things like this but never thought it would happen to me. Parking your car at night and forgetting to lock the doors. You come down the next morning and find the evidence that a bag lady or homeless man has been using your car as a flop house. Usually it's just a mess, sometimes it's human waste, sometimes the homeless person in question is still asleep in your car.
I came outside to find Isobel sitting on the hood of my car.
"What are you doing?" I asked her.
"Playing Whitesnake." she said.
It didn't really dawn on me for a couple of minutes what she actually meant. When it did, I actually spoke out loud.
"Oh my god. She's acting like Tawny Kitaen. (for those of you keeping score at home, that is the redhead rolling around on the hood of David Coverdale's car in the 'Here I go Again' video)
I went back out front to say something to her and saw the real reason she was on the hood of my car. The back of my car had become something one might see on a program about hoarders. There were three pairs of flip flops, one pair of Uggs, one pair of high heels. One Dsi(pink) to video games for said Dsi. Two pairs of socks. Story books, puzzle pieces and colouring books and markers...Now had it not been for what I saw next, I would not have thought too much about the filth explosion in my car. There in my front seat (fully reclined) under a blanket and atop a comfy pillow, lay Santa.
Hello, my name is Sid and my daughter is a bag lady...and she has moved into my car.