I slept until 10:30 today. Actually I dozed. I woke up at the usual time and then continued to nap in small chunks until 10:30 at which time I could hear my inner crumudgeon complaining about how my day was being wasted, but here's the thing, I've had a headache in the back of my head and in my sinuses and around my eyes for like three weeks. So this morning as I dozed and realized my head wasn't hurting it became blazingly obvious that it's caused by stress. So today I'll be padding around the house in my socks and making pasta for some out of town pals coming by and I may be drinking some expensive wine. (I'm certainly not exchanging one head ache for a cheaper headache tomorrow.)
I know, I know what in the world can I possibly be stressed about?! The Preschool Christmas Program? The upcoming Roller Derby Season? How many cookies I didn't agree to bake to for charity? My poked thumb? Here's the thing, should I choose to think about "why" too long it may add to the knots I've created up there and so today I don't care. Send the lion in!
This brings me to Ella's preoccupation with stories that contain tragic death and destruction. She's been addicted to the above video, I bought the album and it was the first song she committed to memory the second song which she proclaims her favorite is the one where this character dies gasping and clutching at his throat while choking on a tiny bone in his soup. She's asking for fairy tales that include a stolen or abandoned children, cannibalistic witches, killed parents and the removal of hearts from young maidens. On top of this she wants to watch that movie "the Corporate Bride" (she means the Corpse Bride) and or Beetlejuice, neither of which we own, but caught on TV in October.
So to quell her, we watched the 70s version of Charlie and the Chocolate Factory last night. When Charlie and Grandpa Jo go floating up to the ceiling from drinking fizzy lifting drinks, about to be chopped up in the fan, Ella shrieked and cried "I can't watch!" and then ran behind the couch and peeked out through her fingers. Then we talked about it for the next ten minutes, how she thought they'd be chopped up and it was going to be blood everywhere. While I tried to claim I'd never let her watch a movie like that, it did occur to me we had just sat through the Wonka takes his boat through the tunnel while singing maniacally and all sorts of horrors are projected onto the screen scene. I suppose the first time you see this movie it has one soo off kilter that it seems totally feasible little Charlie may be chopped up. It's not the sort of movie you can trust, it changes so fast so often.