When We Were Poodles

Another thing, of course, is that writing about oneself is effortless and interesting and entertaining in a way that writing about someone else simply is not.

Could be that I just can’t write about other people.

Plus – a big issue – I generally exercise in the late-ish afternoon, and when I get home, I am exhausted. Physically exhausted. This is because I’m old.

In my own head, as soon as I discharged my responsibilities incumbent upon the youngest offspring as his live-in caretaker, I immediately reverted back to being 30 years old. (I was 34 before I became a parent for the first time.) But in reality, I am not 30 years old – I’m more than twice that age, the warranty on my various parts is expiring, and I lack stamina.

I’m gonna try to exercise early today. See if that makes any kind of difference.

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When I got back from running yesterday – and man, that last hill was an ordeal – I was too braindead to do anything but watch movies.

Back to back: When Harry Met Sally and Broadcast News.

I am always surprised to see these two films categorized in various listing services as classic movies. No, dickwads – classic movies are movies that were made before I was born!

These two films derive from the late 80s. An era I remember very well indeed.

To me, they hold up surprisingly well – except for the poodle hair. Throughout Harry, Meg Ryan looks like a standard poodle whose neglectful owner has put off taking it to the groomer. Holly Hunter comes off rather better throughout because, of course, she’s supposed to be a frump. Except for the one scene at the White House Correspondents’ Dinner where she gets all dressed up and – yep: poodle-izes her hair.

Thank Gawd, I was a hippie back then! I thought.

I tried to watch Harry through the eyes of a Millennial. Through the eyes of Max, say. That made the movie fairly awful, a negative regurgitation of hoary gender tropes that served to reinforce sexist attitudes. (Can men and women really be friends! Who would ask something like that?)

So, sue me. I love it.

Broadcast News stands up a bit better to today’s political standards. In fact, except for its abysmal background music choices, it’s proto-Aaron Sorkin.

One thing – I’d totally forgotten Holly Hunter does this in the movie, but it’s something I used to do three or four times a day when I was working for ICM, that I still do every now and then: the two-minute cry! Yep. Not infrequently, when I’m alone, I will burst into tears for no apparent reason and then sob heartbrokenly for two minutes or so. And then I’ll stop.

It’s a great stress reliever.