Top Three Christmas Favourites

Favourite Christmas Gifts I Received:

First place:

Silky silver P.J. set. from Jim -- who is normally a solid pro at keeping secrets, but couldn't wait. He knew I'd love 'em, so he gave them to me two or three days BC. Y'see, there's more than one reason why we've been living in our p.j.'s lately... it's not just because we haven't been able to leave the house, but since I've opened the box, this pair of p.j's has been in a constant rotation between my body and the laundry machine. Love, love, loooove them!

Tied for second place:

* An incredibly groovy spice rack that I've been searching everywhere for, for at least five years.  With a simple twist, it measures your spices out for you in 1/4 tsp. increments. So awesome! Thank you Cheryl n' Jay!

* The one Sears Wishbook item I've had my eye on since I was child -- A ROCK POLISHER!! It grinds rocks and tumbles them in sand until they're smooth and shiny. If this geeky item surprises you, then you've obviously never seen my pebble and rock collection. Yes, I'm a nerd... and I embrace it. I love you, Jim!

Third place:

A $50 gift certificate to La Senza! Because you can never have too many unmentionables. Thanks Mr. & Mrs. Santa Cliffe.

Honourable Mention:

On Christmas Eve, with complete envy, I found myself coveting Cheryl's large bottle of Snow Fairy shower gel. Only sold at Lush during the holiday season, it's delicious sugar sweet scent is enough to give you a toothache. So much to my delight on Christmas morn, I discovered that I had a large bottle of my very own! Thank you Shayla n' Libby!

Favourite Christmas Gifts I Gave To Others:

First place:

Well, first and foremost, is obviously The Jim Cliffe Collection ~ Limited Edition.  I went though a big box of VHS tapes that've been collecting dust in our spare bedroom closet, and took all of Jim's "blackmail tapes" (as he calls them), and had them transfered to DVD. Thanks to the fabulous assistance of Cindy's husband Jeff.

I started this project of going through the tapes back in late Sept./early Oct. There's everything from the goofy spur of the moment shorts he made with his friends in his teens and early 20's, as well as his student films, and OSIF (Okanagan Society of Independent Filmmaking) shorts that he made in his mid-late 20's.

Of course he was immediately embarrassed to learn that someone outside of our household had actually seen his so-called blackmail tapes. But he got over it.... or at least is gradually getting over it. Ha. He said he'll try not to let his embarrassment stand in the way of his appreciation of my gift.

Second Place: 

I organized my dad's gifts as a bit of a puzzle, with instructions on the order he should open them. Here's how it went...

Open first for the map - Between two place mats, I included driving directions from my sister's house to a mystery location in Ottawa.

Open second for the journey - I included a Tim Horton's travel cup and a $10 gift certificate to Timmy's.

Open third for the experience - In a box was a sushi set for two, complete with plates, dipping bowls, chopsticks, and chopstick rests. Also in that box, I included a gift certificate to take a class at the Chinese Cooking School in Ottawa. But they teach more than just Chinese cooking. They also have classes for Japanese, Vietnamese, Korean, and Thai.

As for my sister, when she opened her book on angels, she found a $25 Petro Canada gift certificate for the drive to Ottawa, and a certificate to attend a class as well. My sister and dad are very close, and they both love to cook, so I thought it was a neat idea to give them something that they could do together.

Third Place:

Apparently in Sunday School my niece, Josephine, learned about the children her church sponsors. So for Christmas she wanted her family to not just sponsor, but adopt a few kids from Africa too.

I absolutely love her angle... She told my sister, "Since baby Jesus was born on Christmas Day, wouldn't a baby just make the most perfect Christmas gift?!" Ha. Nice try. She even promised to share her bedroom and all her stuff, until my sister explained that it's just not possible to adopt a child for Christmas. (Unless, of course, you're Brangelina or Madonna.) Still, that didn't stop Josie from going through all her toys and clothes so that she could donate them to children who are less fortunate than her.

Her next strategy was to send apples to Africa, because that way the people could eat the apple today and then plant the seeds for apple trees later on.

I thought that since she's just so precious and thoughtful, that we would get one of those living gifts for her, and send some vegetable seeds to a family in Africa.

I also think that if Amy doesn't end up sponsoring a little kid from another country, perhaps Jo could write to our little guy. Jim n' I have been sponsoring a boy for a couple years now, who is about her age. (He also shares my birthday... which is actually 3 days before Josie's too.) It might be kinda nice for her...

Favourite Christmas moment

1. Waking up in my own bed! And starting off the day, just me and mon garcon. That was really nice.

2. When my niece Shayla came up to me and said, "Melodie... I don't like you, you know. I looooove you!" Aw, doesn't that just melt your heart?

3. My other niece Libby singing to Cheryl's ring tone, "All the Single Ladies". Okay, so she doesn't sing the words, but she goes, "Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh..." and dances as best as a one year old can. Or, better yet, at dinnertime when she was singing what we think was Jingle Bells. "Mumble, mumble, mumble, jibberish, mumble, HEY!!!" Repeat X 100. So funny. Or at least I got a kick out of it.

Favourite Christmas food

1. Cheryl's homemade almond rocca. Simply sinful. I limited myself to three pieces, because it just would've been too easy to pig out on more.

2. Mary-Ann's cheesy hashbrown dish at brunch.  I added a lil' tabasco and ohhh... so yummy! (Not that they weren't already tasty before the tabasco.) Jeez, my mouth is watering even now. It's just like when you think of salt n' vinegar chips and your mouth automatically waters... the same happens to me whenever I think of tabasco sauce. I like it hot!

3. Acorn squash and apple bake, which Jim made on his very own. (With step-by-step instructions from moi.) Jim kinda fell into making it, which I thought was sorta funny. I was preparing some other dishes to bring over for Christmas dinner, and Jim offered to lend me a hand. I asked if he could peel the squash and apples for me, to which I added, "Now when everyone comments on how delicious this dish is, you can tell them that you made it!"

Jim replied modestly, "Well, I didn't really make it. You're doing all the work."

Me, "No... You're doing all the work."

It's actually super easy. You just mash it all together with butter, brown sugar, n' cinnamon and you're done. But as simple as it is, Jim did a lovely job and I really appreciated his thoughtful offer to help. ;)

And those are my top threes!

Hey Kids! Love Will Destroy You!

I slept in this morning. Late. Real late. And I felt absolutely no guilt whatsoever!

We were up until after 2, sending off the final draft and drinking a two-gulp glass of celebratory wine. I was exhausted when my head crashed into the pillow, and yet sleep did not come quickly. Just lines of dialog, action, and my 2012 Oscar acceptance speech for best original screenplay. Ha! ;)

For the first time in days, I'm going to get dressed. (We've been living in our p.j's lately.) I also want to go out for breakfast. (Yes, I realize it's already noon... but in some circles I'm sure that's still considered early... like for teenagers and vampires, perhaps.) I'm thinking I'd like to go to the Boh for brunch, if it's open. A bowl of cereal just won't cut it today.

Nor will soup!

To hell with that. We're doing the big Superstore shop today... despite the potential for crazy line-ups and pushy Boxing week shoppers. Old Mother Hubbard's cupboards are bare, bare, bare.  Although we do have a tremendous amount of Christmas chocolate lying around. Yeah, that's great for the abs. 

Anyhoo, before I shake off my hermit garb and get on with my blissful re-entry into the world, this morning I eased into the day (afternoon?) with a coffee and a healthy dose of Mark Morford. Love him or hate him, he makes me laugh. I also appreciate how his articles always have a point, never shying away from the controversial.

The one I'm about to share below is hardly controversial compared to his usual long-winded more political rants; however, Jim n' I both recognize that it's all relative when you're young, isn't it? Pain hurts harder, because you really don't have the life experience to gauge it by. Fresh experiences seem to sweep in with more butterflies.  And fresh heartbreaks sting like you'd never love again.

Of course, what the hell am I talking about?! I didn't start dating until I was probably 17, and even then I didn't truly fall for any of the guys I briefly hung around with. They were all set-ups. At least most of them. Certainly not love at first sight. And in two cases, I encouraged the boys to go back to their previous girlfriends who were still so psycho crazy over them, that it wasn't worth my trouble.  Honest to gawd, I once told a boy, "She obviously likes you a lot more than I do..." Ouch. Charming, right? I guess being called a bitch and physically threatened by complete strangers for dating someone's ex is a little outside my comfort zone, y'know? ;)

Anyhow, that being said, you can see why at age 17, I might never have been inspired to ink the back of my neck with the words "Love is pain"... unless of course I was actually beaten by someone's ex, (or their pregnant sister... yes, really. I was threatened by a very pregnant woman... or, in retrospect, girl, I guess I should say.) In which case, perhaps, "Ex-girlfriends are pain" would've made a more appropriate tattoo... but imagine all the questions that would raise in the years to come!

But enough about me... let's see what Mark has to say about the topic in his always entertaining way.

Hey Kids! Love Will Destroy You!

I'm guessing 17. Maybe 16. Although I must admit I'm finding it very hard to tell anymore because the older I get the more I notice this odd, unstoppable inversion taking place in my wayward perceptions, rendering my ability to accurately assess the ages of members of Generation Facebook wickedly futile.

Anyway. There they were, the pair of them, right next to me on Muni recently, two loud, gum-snapping, shamelessly teenaged girls, both dressed in some sort of adorable sweatshop clown chic, nearly identical in getup except for the fantastical color schemes.

Imagine: sausage-tight velour sweatpants -- one bright orange and the other bright green -- rainbow print shirts and orange gloves and yellow shoes and striped choppy tiger-print hair, both basically looking like a Lite-Brite exploded all over a box of crayons, and both girls texting like mad and yelling across the aisle to each other in that hypercondensed, consonant-slurred teen gibberish that makes you sigh and smile and worry just a little about the fate of our flailing species.

But that's not what I noticed most. One of the girls, the one in the orange pants and the short, fruit-stripe hair who was standing right in front of me, I couldn't help but look down and realize she had something inscribed high up on the back of her neck, just beneath the hairline.

It was a tattoo. A bad one, naturally. Crooked, wobbly, amateurish in that way that makes me sad because I fully believe bad tattoos are a scourge on the American animal and crappy tattoo artists should be punished and get their goddamn slacker butts to art school, and Something Must Be Done.

Anyway. High up on the back of this girl's young, perfectly smooth neck, in large, clunky script, I saw these words:

"Love is pain."

Next to the words, a small, red cartoon heart torn in two, serrated like shark's teeth, a droplet of blood pouring out.

I blinked. Love is pain? Really? Can that possibly be true for this shiny tiny teenaged creature snapping her gum and misspelling her text messages in front of me? Such a harsh, declarative statement, such a dour and irrefutable pronouncement, made before you're even old enough to buy booze or porn or cigarettes, when you're still full of energy and potential and friendships, and you have what, about 70 more years to go before you even have a clue as to what your life was all about?

I found myself flashing back to about eight years ago, when I attended some sort of delightfully mushy, yoga-filled, trance-dancey, patchouli-'n'-Ecstasy New Year's Eve party thing, and I remember meeting a very young friend of my then-girlfriend, a sweet, dreadlocked, hippie-ish seeker dude who must've been about 22 or 23 at the time. My ex was talking him up and asking how he was doing, and he got this dramatic look on his face, scrunched and painful. "Oh, you know, just dealing with all my sh-t, lots of peeling away, lots of hard work to get through it all."

I remember my reaction. I remember this big internal recoil, struggling not to roll my eyes and shake my head and slap the kid awake. I mean, come on. You're 22. You don'thave any sh-t yet. I knew he'd never even been married, no kids, divorces, mortgages, spiritual crisis, age issues, body breakdowns, addictions, health problems, asylums, dumb tattoos on the back of his neck. He was from the north shore of Chicago, fer chrissakes. Not exactly drug-addled povertyland. Hell, I was only in my early 30s, and even I knew the basic rule of life: Dude, you have to actually live a little first. You have to earn some sh-t before you can claim to be digging out from under it.

I don't taste quite that flavor of judgment anymore. At least, not as frequently. I've come to realize that the darkness takes many forms indeed, from abusive childhoods to karmic repayments to all sorts of trauma of varying degrees and maturity levels, and that, in many ways, your life can indeed be piled high with horror and sadness by ages far younger than 22. All paths are unique, individual, unknowable from the outside.

But can you really believe, in your core being, in your whole world, that "love is pain," before you're even old enough to buy a goddamn vibrator? Can this be your great, fist-raised statement to the world? Sure it can. It's just a bit, you know, immature. Premature. And wildly incomplete.

A dozen questions drifted through my bus-bored mind as we lurched from block to block. What does she really know about love? What happened to her? What triggered the idea for such a lousy tattoo? She seemed healthy and vital, all faculties intact, no major limbs missing. Abusive father? Alcoholic mother? Both? Slew of skuzzy deadbeat boyfriends? Beloved puppy got run over by a Buick? I wanted to lean over and ask. I wanted to know what inspired such a fatalistic worldview before she seemed old enough to even have a worldview.

I also pondered what might happen to her in the coming years to make her regret that tattoo. Maybe she'll get out of the housing projects. Maybe she'll build her own loving family. Maybe she'll meet a fantastic spouse who shows her love is many things indeed besides a source of pain, even though we still have no clue what the hell most of them are or what it all might mean, and in truth that's what makes it so goddamn tasty and slippery and addictive, how it hits us square in the divine mystery spot in our deepest core.

(BTW, I also acknowledge how it's entirely possible I am way, way overanalyzing. Her phrase might just be, say, some dumb Rhianna lyric. A Jay-Z song title. A cheeseball line from a vapid vampire movie. Hey, impressionable young girls with no real life awareness are right now getting far, far dumber things tattooed across their bodies in the name of soap-opera romance and malformed identity. But what sort of column would that have made?)

What I do know is, it's taken me many, many years indeed to figure out exactly what love is (God's Viagra, obvs). Pain is just one of its many dark incarnations. But pain is also a choice. This is something you can only realize over time, and which you can never know at age 16. You can actually choose how to use, or be used, by love's insane, impossible, narcotic energy. You can, every day and every moment and every breath, decide which of its billion catchy little slogans, if any, you wish to abide.

Love is pain? Hell yes. But also: Love is bliss. Love is energy. Love is divine. Love is all you need. Love is perfect. Love is magic. Love is God. Love is Hell. Love is like oxygen. Love is patient. Love is kind. Love is a many- splendored thing. Love will keep us together. Love is madness. Love hurts. Love bites. Love stinks. Love's a bitch. Love is a battlefield. Love is blindness.

Girl better have a long neck.

Read more: http://www.sfgate.com/cgi-bin/article.cgi?f=/g/a/2009/12/30/notes123009.DTL&nl=fix#ixzz0bCfdBxJl

Still Alive

Hey there!

I hope you all had a very Merry Christmas and are enjoying the blissful relaxation of the holiday season.

It's funny... even though we're fortunate enough to no longer have the kind of jobs where you have to save up your vacation days for that precious week or two off at Christmas, Jim n' I are finding ourselves in a different boat this year. We haven't been able to take any sort of break yet -- with the obvious exception of Christmas Eve and Christmas Day, which are so busy with preparation, bustling around, and spending time with friends n' family, that they hardly count as actual holidays at all.

Instead these last few weeks have been jammed with work. I'm only taking this two second break to blog while Jim runs across the street to the IGA to pick up something quick to eat over the next couple days. Our cupboards are almost bare, but we haven't the time to do any serious grocery shopping - not that we have the time to cook a proper meal anyway. We live on soup n' buns. Seriously.

However, I'm not going to complain. We should be done this final draft within the next day or so.

We both acknowledge that as much as we talk about it, NO ONE will ever know how much work we have really poured into this thing. We work from the time we get up until 10 or 11 at night. We'll spend over an hour on a single page just to ensure that the words are right and the message we want to convey is crystal clear. Every sentence counts. Is it necessary? If so, is it believable? How can it be better?

Not to mention, during this crunch time for every draft, we also tend to get a little grumpy. We're pretty good at not taking out our irritability on each other, as we recognize that we're both under the same pressure... But when stress is high, our patience for b.s. runs dangerously thin. (Which is another reason why it's good that I've abstained from blogging lately. It just would've been one big bitchfest about eggshell egos, give-me-a-friggin'-break martyrs, and the most drama I've seen since the 10th grade. Honestly!) Oh, woe to those who have managed to piss me off over these last couple weeks. While I did my best to choke back the worst of my venom, if thoughts could kill, we'd have a mighty massacre on our hands. Okay, well, perhaps not "mighty", but there'd be a few casualties, f'sure.

So yes... otherwise, Christmas was a lovely momentary escape. We were both spoiled rotten by everyone and each other. It was absolutely wonderful to get to sleep in our own beds, and enjoy a couple hours here at home opening stockings n' such, before heading out to Cheryl n' Jay's for brunch.  Of course, come Boxing Day, we were cloaked with the weight of pending deadlines once again.

Anyhow, we're getting there! Like Jim says, "The last thing we can do is resent the fact that we have to work on making our movie over the holidays. We are so blessed."

Ain't that the truth!

Besides, by NYE, all will be right with the world once again, and THEN maybe we'll get a bit of a vacay!

In case I haven't told you (actually, I know that I haven't), Jim n' I got tickets about a month or so ago to that big Mardi Gras themed carnival at the Kelowna Community Theater. I've been really looking forward to it, especially since our last three NYE's have been a flop, a bummer, and a low-key drag. This should definitely make up for it!!

Actually, I was just reading in the paper today that Toronto Star's Lifestyle Magazine has ranked the event in their top 10 unique New Year's parties to be held in Canada this year. It's going to be such a blast!

Plus, because I know getting a cab on NYE will be a total nightmare, I decided to look into hotel prices, just to see if anything is available. The closest hotel to the theater is the Delta Grand. Anytime we've ever stayed at a hotel here in town, I've never looking into the Grand, because I've always assumed that it was overpriced, given that it's a swankier waterfront hotel n' all. But, considering it's proximity to the theater, (it's only about a block or two away), I decided that just for kicks I'd check out their rates. Anyhow, I got a surprisingly awesome deal. As if I wasn't excited before, I'm SOOO excited now. Our NYE will be the perfect reward for all our hard work.

Speaking of which, our soup n' buns are ready... so I better eat up and then get back at it.

Lookin' Good

No, this post is not about how I think Jim is lookin' good today on his 37th birthday. That goes without saying.

What I really wanted to say is that although we have a ways to go before the 23rd in regards to polishing the dialog and shortening scenes, I'm finding myself really, really excited about the way our story is shaping up. It's lookin' good!

As we move through the spreadsheet scene-by-scene, I feel great about our story. We came up with some pretty terrific stuff over these last couple months. This final version offers lot more action and conflict. And even now as we write, we're always finding new ways to increase the tension and end scenes with better cliffhangers. The script truly has come a long, long way from what some of you read in earlier versions.

I think this is probably the first draft that I'm actually really excited about. I mean, our other drafts were all fine n' good, each improving with every consecutive rewrite. But this one I'm actually proud of. Okay, I guess I was proud of the last draft too - but I'm honestly even prouder of this one.

I know that we may do another tweak or two before we start casting, after the pro readers give it a second once-over... but for the most part, this will be our shooing draft. The one our prospective Donovans will read. That gives me such a thrill.

I almost never dream about our movie. Jim does. I don't.

However, last night I had a fun dream where Ricky Gervais was Jack Nicholson's agent and I listened in as he told Jack that our script was the best he had seen in years. And even though the pay was only $1,000 for the role of Donovan, it would be well-worth it for him to consider taking the part, as it would definitely be an Oscar-worthy contender.

Then, at the same time, we were approaching Albert Finney for the part. And in my dream, there was a split-screen, and I watched as both actors simultaneously signed on the dotted line to play Donovan.

The dream ended on that note.

Obviously I know that this is not a prophetic dream in any way, shape or form. But, I do think it's a pretty solid testament to how great I'm feeling about this final draft.

Yes, it will be a low budget film. Of course, I expect there to be some bumps in the road as we work towards getting it made. And sure, it may never go too far beyond the festival circuit....

However, as for putting our best foot (feet) forward, I do think this film will be something that I will be very proud to have on my resume. I do believe in it's future potential to launch my career as a "real" writer and Jim's career as a director.

I can't wait for this next year to watch as actors breath life into our words, to listen as the score heightens the emotion, and to experience the magic of the final cut.

I also can't wait to take all that I've learned from this journey and begin writing something new.

Neat-O Things

I should go to bed soon so that we can wake up early and get back to work... ugh.

Did I mention that I'm feeling really overwhelmed lately?

Because I am.

This is always a busy time of year between Christmas and all the birthdays... but this year, with all our contract work and script deadlines and recent car setbacks, it feels that much crazier. I'm trying not to get irritable.... really, I am. But it only takes a glance at the remaining pile of unwritten Christmas cards or a gander at a load of unwrapped presents (never mind the ones we haven't even purchased yet!) to set me off into a borderline panic about all the things I have yet to do. I gotta shake it off.

Anyhow, even though I should really be off to bed, I'm still slightly wired, so I thought I'd write a post. However, I don't really feel quite like taking the time to get into any detailed stories or anything.

So... to kill a few minutes, I decided to post a few pictures of some neat-o things I found online at betterlivingthroughdesign. I love that site.

Check out this self-portrait mirror. How cute is that? They have others with mustaches n' such. But I really dig the little bird. Adorable.

I've always wanted a traditional cuckoo clock. But I like this one with it's modern edge. I wonder if it comes in pink?

Speaking of cuckoo clocks, check out these birdhouses! Awesome, awesome! I totally want one. Unfortunately (for me), Jim is afraid of birds pooping on our balcony or waking us up too early. (He's a light sleeper...) Personally, I love waking up to the sounds of birds, I don't care what the time is (because I can always fall right back to sleep. ;)

I think this idea is pretty creative, and definitely cuter than your usual little herb pots.

Looove this shelving system!!  Too bad it's like $400+. Pretty nifty though. Definitely original. You can stack 'em too. Hmm... maybe I should commission someone to build me one. I could probably get it cheaper, don't you think?

Anyhow, there's a few other things I've saved that I want to share with you... but I really should get to bed maintenant.

G'night for now.

Dying 6-year-old girl leaves love notes behind

Wow... I don't know if this is the saddest or most beautiful story I've read all year.

Dying 6-year-old girl leaves love notes behind - thestar.com

Six-year-old Elena Desserich is shown in February 2007 in an unfinished playhouse built by her father, Keith. Elena died of brain cancer later that year but left notes and pictures for her family all over their Cincinnati home, hiding them in bookshelves and drawers. “That’s my favourite picture of her,” her father told the Star.

PHOTO COURTESY OF DESSERICH FAMILY

From the moment she first picked up a crayon, Elena Desserich loved to draw. Even as a preschooler, her favourite gifts were pastels, markers and blank notebooks.

So it wasn't unusual for Keith and Brooke Desserich to find their little girl's trademark purple hearts and "I love you" notes on scraps of paper and stray envelopes all over their suburban Cincinnati home.

But it wasn't until weeks after their 6-year-old died of cancer that they realized she had left hundreds of messages planted in nooks and crannies for her parents and little sister, Grace, to stumble upon after she was gone.

Each one they find – tucked into bookshelves, dishes in the china cabinet, corners of dresser drawers, bags of stored clothing – is like she's sending "a little hug," say her mom and dad.

"She's giving us a little message saying that everything's going to be all right," Keith said in a phone interview Wednesday.

Elena was only 5 years old when doctors diagnosed pediatric brain cancer. They said she had 4 1/2 months to live. But she made it to almost nine months.

Her parents didn't tell her the prognosis; in retrospect they say she must have somehow known as her small body started to fail her.

Since her death more than two years ago, the discoveries of what she left behind have grown fewer and further between. There was nothing for six months. And then last week, there she was again, inside a Strawberry Shortcake notebook in the back of the cupboard tucked behind the game of Candyland.

"I love you Mom, Dad and Grace," she had written inside a heart with arrows.

Keith doesn't remember the first one she left because for awhile, he and Brooke thought her notes were part of the daily household clutter that had accumulated over the years.

"But after you get to 20 or 30 you realize this isn't just scraps," he says. "We don't even know when her notes started. We have three Rubbermaid boxes full." There could be 300, they haven't counted.

Elena left them for her grandmother too, and even a great-aunt's Chihuahua she adored, who stood guard at her bedside until the end.

While they offer a powerful source of comfort to those who adored her, Elena's family believes they contain a universal message too: cherish the small moments in life; be present for those you love.

The girl with a ladylike fondness for headbands, tights with polka dots and anything lacy or pink was also "a wise soul," says her dad.

"She found grace even in the smallest details."

Her parents hope to carry her message and her example in their newly-published book Notes Left Behind, a series of their journal entries during Elena's last months, written for her sister, along with samples of her messages and artwork.

Proceeds go to the research foundation the Desserichs created called The Cure Starts Now Foundation (www.thecurestartsnow.org).

Keith doesn't know how many bits of paper are still waiting to be found. Each new one is wrenching, but at the same time he never wants them to end.

That's why one letter he found in an envelope inside his briefcase still remains sealed. So too does another that had been slipped into Brooke's backpack.

Keith doesn't believe he'll ever open it, even though to him, this letter is the most important one.

"There's something wonderful about knowing there's always one more message from Elena."

Can't Blog... Writing.

Frick, I'm busy! I already felt overwhelmed to begin with, but then we got slammed with more interruptions, which has only served to put us even further behind the 8-ball. I love this time of year... but damn! It's busy! Oh yeah, and the crappy inconveniences certainly don't help much either.

So, when I finally return to my regularly scheduled blogging, please remind me to tell you all about the following...

* MORE stupid car problems! I spoke too soon, didn't I? Jeez Louise!

Actually, I can probably sum this up pretty quickly here... On Sunday night, our car died in the Red Robin parking lot. No lights. No juice. No nuthin'. We paid $70+ to have it towed back up to the dealership, who felt absolutely horrible about everything -- probably because they know we're really effing  - oh, screw that... I'm gonna say it - we're fucking pissed about this ongoing nonsense!! Argh.

We finally got our car back today. Turns out there was faulty wiring which was responsible for draining the battery. And for some reason this wire wasn't covered under our warrantee... the warrantee for that particular part expired in July. Arrrgh!! Figures.

Believe me, we seriously considered getting a new vehicle, but we're still paying for this one and don't want to refinance and rack up new debt. Especially since we're on a pretty limited budget n' all that.

* Witnessing the B&E at the pub next door. That was actually kinda exciting... for a little while anyway. This story is too long to share right now.

* Our meeting with les producers on Monday. Actually, one of them couldn't make it because her flight was super delayed due to the bad weather. She said it was so painful not to be here. DE is her baby too now. She's always been an associate producer, so this promotion to producer-producer is a pretty big deal for her.  

Hm. Now that I think about it, nothing much was discussed in our meeting that you don't already know... besides the fact that we won't be doing an Option C, (a $1.5M film), but are going to explore all our variables in the Option A/B grey area. So the movie should be anywhere between $2.1M up to $2.9M. Pretty interesting, huh? Accounting news is always exciting, I know.

Anyhow, I really have to get to work here... but just wanted to make a couple notes before I forget.

Oh yeah, I also bought tickets for NYE on the weekend, so I'm pretty excited about that given how shitty our last three NYE's have been. This one will make up for it f'sure! But again, more on that later.

Back to work.

Soft Claws

I caught Luna scratching the back corner of the couch again today. Argh! That girl drives me nuts sometimes.

We manage to deter her most of the time by keeping that side of the couch covered with a nice throw blanket. However, lately she's been using the throw as her hiding place. She crouches beneath it, darting out at random intervals.

I've come to believe that it's the cats' home base when they play tag. As soon as one of them gets there, the big chase stops. Then they just wait and twitch their tails, peering at one another, until someone makes the first move and runs away... and of course, the other immediately follows.

Oh yes, the excitement never ends here in our living-room!

But, getting back to where I started... Sometimes the blanket gets untucked, and then Luna uses the couch as her scratching post. So annoying!

We tried a repelling spray in the past when we first bought the couch... but the cats weren't the only ones who found themselves repelled. Yuck. It had a weird metallic sorta smell. So obviously that stuff is no longer an option.

It seems the only solution is a watchful eye.

Even though our chats stay indoors, I don't like the idea of getting them declawed. I've learned that it's a very painful procedure.  Apparently it's not just their fingernail being removed, it is the top of their digit - like if we cut our fingers off at the top knuckle. Not nice!

Worse yet, think of how cats use their wee paws for everything! As they heal, they have to walk directly on their wounds. They even have to scrape their dirty litter boxes with bandaged lil' hands. That seems like a pretty harsh price for the poor things to pay just because they scratch a couch now and then.

So, at the risk of sounding dangerously close to an infomercial, I was looking into alternatives and I came across this neat site. The product is super cute, effective and even affordable. They're called Soft Paws. 

Basically, it's a nail cap that covers your cat's claws for 4 - 6 weeks at a time. It's under $20 for a 6 month supply. I think it might be worth it. Plus, how cute would little Tuna look with hot pink claws to match her collar? Me-Ow!

Ha ha! I totally made myself lol with that meow comment. My apologies for being a geek.

Anyhow, I couldn't grab any decent images off the site because they're done in Flash - but, a YouTube search yielded this super-deluxe-with-cheese commercial. What's up with that ridiculous background music? Fast-forward to the one minute mark for some real laughs!! Am I the only person who finds this video absolutely hilarious? It's like a bad SNL commercial.

Roses and Thorns Nov. 28 - Dec. 11

Okay, here are my latest roses n' thorns from off the top of my head (as they usually are)...

Rose
Got all my Ontario Christmas shopping done! If I can ship everything off this weekend, then it'll arrive with time to spare. This could possibly be a record, people!!

Thorn
Christmas cards are another story. I wanted to include an annual Christmas letter, but I'm running low on toner and time. I may just have to shorten my holiday greeting to a URL that points to my blog.

Rose
The Christmas tree is up and lookin' pretty spiffy, if I do say so myself. I might post a picture eventually... even though I find that pictures never really do a decorated tree justice. I think because when all the lights are shining, it distorts the ornaments. But, if you take the photo without the lights, then you really don't get the full effect.

Oh well... you'll just have to take my word for it, and the word of all the folks who stop by our place over the holidays and gush, "Wow! What a beautiful tree!" Like I said, it really is pretty spiffy.

Thorn
More drama has come creepin' in lately from a couple directions. While both situations are completely different, when you get right down to the root of the issue, there's not much we can do in either case. Basically, people have to figure things out for themselves.

Rose
For Jay's birthday we went to Mamma Rosa. I've never been there before, but the pasta was fantastico. (I was going to say "amazing" but the translation is "stupore" which, to me, sounds too close to "stupid". I didn't want any of you thinking the pasta was stupid. Then again, if the pasta was stupid, it wouldn't be a rose now, would it?)

Thorn
More car issues. Ugh. The check engine light came on, and as it turns out, we had to get our battery replaced, which was no surprise. We kinda suspected as much, but just hadn't made an appointment yet. We also got the transmission fluid flushed, which hadn't been done before. (You'd think they'd mention these things during our biannual tune-ups... but anyway...)  With the additional tranny fluid flush, the total came to over $200 more than we expected. So yeah, ka-ching! Oh well, at least the car will finally be in good shape for a while. *knock on wood* Our warrantee expires next December...

Rose
Our meeting on Monday... of course! Twas a great meeting and it has really put us in high spirits, despite the dramarama, the car nonsense, and the overwhelming sensation that we have way too much stuff on our plates to get done before the 23rd (our next deadline).

Thorn
Eight Crazy Nights and Jingle All The Way. Pee-eew! Steer clear of these two craptastical films this holiday season. That's three hours of my life totally wasted! We like the occasional dumb comedy as much as the next guy... but these were brutal.

Jingle All The Way, which I saw for the first time the other night, definitely makes it's way onto my must miss flicks list. Although we did have a little childish fun imitating Anauld for a couple minutes after the movie was over, "Chaaaaayme! Don't walk away from yo fadda!" Tee hee hee.

Rose
The writing is going swell, swell, swell. I'm loving how easily we're breezing through the scenes -- relatively speaking, of course. Normal rewrites average about 10 pages a day between the two of us. So really, only 5 pages a day each. Yeah, only 5 pages.... I know, right? But currently, we're averaging about 25 pages collectively on a good day. A lot of scenes only require very minor tweaking -- we want to include some subtext about this, or remove a reference to that, etc.

Anyhow, it's fun. I love writing... it's just all those endless outlines that totally kill me. Although I will admit that our painstakingly thorough outlines are always worth it in the end, because they make the writing process so much easier.

Thorn
We had a Christmas gathering with friends last weekend, and it's just another one of those situations where I find myself in No-Man's Land in more ways than one. But then my decision to leave No-Man's Land left me feeling kinda bad all week... even though I don't think I should feel bad.

To (not-so) quickly explain... I'm the only girl in our gang who is sans enfants. So while the boys get to go play in the games room down the street with the air hockey, pool table, ping pong and big bowl o' punch, I'm left with the gals tending the children. This is fine n' dandy for a while. The girls are all great and I love the kids. But obviously, the majority of the conversations revolve around children, (and rightfully so!), and I really have nothing to contribute. So, this year, after I spent a couple hours with the girls, I decided to leave and have some fun with the boys for a while. Anyhow, it sounds like a couple of the girls felt dissed, like I ditched them.

I don't know... it's just one of those awkward group dynamic things... Tell me, what's the etiquette here? Stay with the ladies and listen to discussions on breast feeding and potty training all evening, or politely excuse myself after a couple hours, and go hang with the boys, who always seem to be having way more fun. I mean, I really have nothing against the girls or the kids or even the child-centric topics of conversation... but I like to move around. I like to play games. I like to have a few laughs once n' a while.

Jim completely agreed that when we have kids, it would only be fair for the men to give the ladies a night off now n' then, so they can enjoy an evening of fun in the games room. I find our group (or maybe it's like this in all social circles, I dunno?) is always incredibly one-sided with who tends the tots... and that b.s. isn't going to float with Mother Mel.

Ah yes.... and so there we have my top 5 roses n' thorns for the last two weeks. I'm sure I missed a few things, but I usually do.

Happy Hanukah!

Nothing To See Here

Like the title suggests, this blog post has been deleted.

As of April 27th, we're about to enter a phase of casting. Therefore, certain details must now be kept confidential.

Top Three Worst Holiday Movies Eva!

It's late, so I'll make this post brief. We just bought number two on my list, because it was being sold as cheap as renting it. We thought it might be another festive film to add to our collection. Little did we know how crappy it would be.

3. Christmas with the Cranks - Two words: As. If.

2. Eight Crazy Nights - As Jim put it, "I think this movie did a huge disservice to the Jewish community." I couldn't agree more.

1. Christmas Vacation 2: Uncle Eddie's Island Adventure - Jim's dad rented this on Christmas Eve a couple years ago, thinking it might be a nice alternative to the usual tradition of watching National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation. Ten minutes later, we were watching National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation.

Sketchy Santas

My friend Lisa posted a link to Sketchy Santas on Facebook, but I thought it was too funny not to share.

Here's just a small handful of the kinds of photos you'll find on the Sketchy Santa site. (Commentary is my own two cents...)

This one has to win the award for the most disgruntled-looking Santa ever! Either that, or one of those kids just peed on his lap.

I don't know which is scarier... Santa's makeup or the look on that poor kid's face? What they don't tell you is that two seconds later his head exploded.

WTF?! I'm sorry, but that's not Santa.  Also, did he tie a mop to his face? No, seriously.... did he?

I love this one. It has "Christmas card insert" written all over it!

Ha. This one too!

I don't think Santa is the sketchy one in this photo. BTW, look closely, are those his pants around his ankles? Must be. I'm sure there's no way this dude would've stood in line for a half hour wearing only a speedo.

Okay.... I was only going to include 5 examples, but in case you don't end up visiting the site yourself, I'd clearly be doing you a huge disservice if I didn't include at least 5 more...

 "Up on the housetop, *hic*, reindeer pause, *hic*...."
"Mommeeeee! Santa smells funny...."

Ah yes, taken directly from a page of my childhood.

Just kidding.

Not really.

One Christmas Eve, one of our church's volunteer Santa's downed a bevy or two before dawning the big red suit, and I remember saying exactly that, "Santa, you smell funny!" Ha ha! Mom and dad explained later... (Don't worry, I knew it wasn't the "real" Santa. Could you imagine how traumatic that might've been!?)

Now, I'm not saying that Santa has to be white... but the shades? Really?

So, did the little girl get the black eye before or after she yanked on Santa's beard? Just asking...

Now that, my friends, is what I call a Sketchy Santa. I don't know whether it's his eyes or his mouth that creep me out the most... but you wouldn't catch me sitting on his lap either!

This little girl isn't crying because she's scared of Santa. No, she's crying because she just realized that's her Poppa Joe... and she just learned the truth about Santa Claus.

Reoccurring Dreams

Since I was a child, my dreams have pretty much always shared one of three common elements - even if only for a moment. Those elements are:

1. Staircases. Sometimes I'm going up. Sometimes I'm going down. Sometimes I'm trying to get somewhere. Sometimes I'm trying to get away from someone. Sometimes I go normal speed. Sometimes I run fast. Sometimes I take giant leaps from the top to the bottom. Sometimes it's just a single staircase. Sometimes they go on and on and on for a long time (like this paragraph...)

2. Public Washrooms. Sometimes they're clean. Sometimes they're filthy. Sometimes they're packed. Sometimes they're empty. Sometimes the stalls are missing doors. Sometimes I'm hiding in a stall. Sometimes I'm looking in a mirror. Sometimes I'm changing my clothes.  Sometimes I'm taking a shower. (In my dreams, I rarely use the public washrooms for what they're actually for...)

3. My Grandpa Junop's house. Sometimes I'm just visiting. Sometimes I live there. Sometimes I'll discover new rooms that I never knew existed before. Sometimes Grandpa is there. Sometimes he's not. Sometimes I recognize that I'm dreaming, so I hug him extra long until I'm forced to wake up. Those dreams always make me cry.

While I own a few dream dictionaries, I usually take their definitions with a grain of salt. Actually, I find that I almost never reference them anymore. I think the true interpretations to our dreams always lie within ourselves. That being said, this is what I take from the above...

Staircases - I think my direction depends on my current state of mind. To me, going up symbolizes working towards something. Actively reaching out towards a goal and overcoming challenges. I say this because going up a staircase often takes a bit longer and is more challenging that going down.

These days, I can run up staircases in my dreams with ease, but when I was a little kid, going up a staircase in my dreams was a scary thing. Here are a couple reoccurring examples of scary staircase dreams I would have:

Number 1: From the ages of about 4 - 11, I had a dream that would always end with me being lured up my Grandpa's staircase to find a special room where a woman would attract children with popsicles and fun musical instruments. But it would soon be revealed that the woman was actually a satanist, and she'd try to hypnotize us so we'd worship the devil. I'd usually end up yelling at her and (safely) jumping out the window.

Spirituality was always an ongoing battle for me, even as a wee kid. While I disliked going to church every Sunday, and always had many questions about which religion was the "true" religion, I still worried for my soul and feared going to hell. (A fear-mongering concept I no longer believe in, I might add...)

Number 2: From the age of maybe 8 until I was a teenager, I had another dream where I would need to get a book from the top floor at the public library. The problem was that the thin glass stairs were positioned like shelves and slotted wide apart, forcing me to practically jump between them. I was always too frightened to attempt (or at least complete) the daunting climb.

To me, books represent education, and for many years, my school life was rife with anxiety. In fact, I was actually put on antidepressants for a little while. Although my grades never suffered, just getting through the day was the most unbearable challenge. I'm sometimes amazed that I survived. However, by around the 10th or 11th grade, I had taken a summer leadership program, and while I didn't feel that I had changed at all on the outside, my confidence soared on the inside. Life drastically improved. It was also around that time that I finally made it up those stairs at the library with ease. I never had the dream again.

Now, going down stairs is a different story. I think that signifies coming to an end of something. It's always faster and easier going down stairs than it is going up.  In fact, as I mentioned earlier, sometimes I'll make giant leaps from the top of a staircase to the bottom. It seems that the longer the staircase I'm running down, the longer the process that is coming to an end.... if that makes sense? I also always have an overwhelming sensation of relief when running down a staircase, even if the situation in the dream is terrifying.

For example, the other night, shortly after we learned that we don't have to do any more outlines, I found myself running down a long, long staircase. It was actually a horrible dream about a psycho who was going through our apartment building killing everyone... but as I ran down those stairs, even though I could hear his crazed screams not far behind, I still felt safe, secure. I knew I would soon reach the bottom of the stairs and that everything would be fine. Actually, moments after my escape, I found myself calmly skipping stones at the beach... and that's when our alarm went off.

Public Washrooms - Unlike staircases, I don't think I need to go into a lengthy explanation here. For me, public washrooms symbolize the privacy of thought.  You can be in a very public setting, but still keep your thoughts to yourself.

In many ways, for the most part, I feel that I am a pretty open book. I don't mind sharing a lot of personal things about myself or my past, because I am confident in who I am, and have nothing to hide. Even the most humiliating moments have somehow helped to shape me into the super awesome person I've become. (Ha!) And yet, not one person will ever get to know the complete me. There will always be certain things that I'll keep from certain people. I think the same goes for just about everyone. While not all of us wear masks (or worse yet, tell lies), I do believe that no matter who you are, different shadows are always cast depending on with whom you stand. I mean, Jim comes pretty darn close to knowing every little thing about me, but even he will not hear my every passing thought.

At least that's what I think of whenever I think about public washrooms...  Although I have yet to further analyze what I am keeping from whom in my day-to-day life when a public washroom makes an appearance in my dreams.

My Grandpa Junop's house - Well, this certainly does not require much thought.... Grandpa Junop was easily my favourite person. So much so, that simply writing that statement alone brings a flood of tears to my eyes. I am often deeply affected for a day or two after he makes an appearance in any of my dreams. At the very least, I recognize how blessed I am to have such vivid dreams, so that when I do get to see him, even if I realize that I'm dreaming, I do believe that on some level of reality or consciousness, our visit *is* real and that I *am* with him.

Now, while Grandpa is not present about 2/3's of the time, his house has often been backdrop for many of my dreams since childhood. Not a week goes by that I don't find myself having a dream where I either live there, am visiting, etc. He passed away almost six years ago, and I don't think he lived in his home for almost five years before that, but I can still remember every nook and cranny of that place, and all those intricate details always come to life whenever I close my eyes.

Anyhow, while I've come to expect these elements of staircases, public washrooms and Grandpa's house to reoccur, lately a new situation has been introduced. Not in any sort of regular frequency as the above elements, but still, enough to notice....

Over the last month, maybe month n' a half, I've experienced a reoccurring theme at least three or four times. I had it again last night, which is why I felt compelled to write about it today.

In the dream, I find myself in either Pembroke, Ottawa, Aurora or Toronto, without a way home.  The circumstances are always that I was visiting for a week or two, but did not think to purchase a return ticket -- or in one case, I missed an earlier flight because I wanted to stay longer. It seems that I get so caught up with trying to visit everyone, and then I suddenly realize how long it has been since I've been away, and that I have a life (and husband!) here in Kelowna that I really miss and want to get back to.

Throughout the dream, I find myself growing anxious, trying to figure out how I'm going to get home. I try to rearrange my schedule with family and friends so no one feels left out. I try finding a way to get to the airport, but there are always bizarre complications. One time I was in Aurora and was trying to walk to Toronto's Finch subway station, but Young Street was incredibly steep and I had to climb almost straight up. When I turned around to find a different route, I noticed that my path had become completely flooded, so there was no going back. Another time, I got lost in the Ottawa airport because I kept entering all these weird theme rooms as I tried to find my departure gate... like a casino for gangsters, a Pepsi room, and I think even a laundry room with all kinds of solo socks...  Ha.

I always wake up with a feeling of absolute dread that I'm never going to get home, shortly followed by a huge sigh of relief that I'm back in Kelowna. These dreams always take a few minutes to shake off. I don't know what all this means... If I'm craving another visit home, then why am I so panicked and rushing to leave?

Strange, strange, strange...

The Twelve Days of Christmas Movies

Well, now that December is upon us, Jim n' I will begin our annual tradition of watching Christmas movies over the next month. Last night we made the pseudo-transition from our regular movie watching habits to holiday films by watching The Royal Tenenbaums (which we finished this morning over breakfast.) Okay, so we were going to watch the Tenenbaums this week anyway, and it's not actually a Christmas movie, but they do play the Peanut's tune, "Christmas Time is Here" in one scene... so I like to think that it's a gentle nudge in the right direction.

As for real holiday movies, my top twelve favourites are as follows:

12. Die Hard - Hey, it's a Christmas movie!! I have to add this one to my list because Jim pulled it out one year as a Christmas flick, and I cringed. Something about testosterone-fueled violence and action doesn't quite spell Christmas to me. However, I ended up really enjoying it. It was a nice change of pace from your usual Christmas fare. Yippe ki yay mother... 

11. A Christmas Story - I had never seen this movie until only a few years ago. Can you believe it? All those references of a Red Ryder BB gun shot right over my head. Anyhow, now I finally understand why it is considered such a holiday classic. Love that sexy leg lamp!

10. It's a Wonderful Life - So, I fell asleep and missed the last crucial 15 minutes the first time Jim showed it to me. What can I say? It was late. I was tired. But the next year, I stayed up, and enjoyed it to the end. I love Jimmy Stewart. Or maybe I just love his warbly voice.

9. Micky's Christmas Carol - One of my favourites as a little kid, before I realized that it was actually a take on the original Dickens story. (You will notice that I did not include the original version of A Christmas Carol, which I finally saw for the first time a year ago. The 1951 version, anyway... not the '38. I quite enjoyed it, but because I only saw it once, it didn't make the cut.)

8.  The Grinch Who Stole Christmas - The animated version, of course. Just another one of those classics that remind you of childhood. I'm definitely not as big a fan of the more recent live action version, despite the amazing prosthetics and makeup they used to transform Jim Carrey into the Grinch. Did they win an award for that? Because they should've!

7. National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation - This one is a Cliffe family tradition, which they've watched together every Christmas Eve for over 10 years. I recently read a little description written by the Moviephone staff, which I felt completely captured this movie. They wrote, "Chevy Chase is at the top of his game in this site-gag-and-one-liner homage to the love/hate event that is the family Christmas." That about sums it up, doesn't it?

6. The Polar Express - Beautifully animated with a very dream-like quality. I would've loved to have seen it at an IMAX theater to get the full experience of some of those swooping train sequences. 

5. Home Alone - Whatever happened to Poor Macaulay Culkin? Oh yeah, he grew up. Oh well, I have to say that Home Alone (parts one and two, despite the completely redundant formula) compose my number 5 pick. Warm, clever and fun.

4. Bad(der) Santa (The unrated version) - He's raunchy, rude, and just a despicable human being in every way... but if you can get past the crude exterior, dare I say that Bad Santa truly is a heart-warming film with a lot of great laughs. Besides, who doesn't love the late John Ritter, sandwiches, or a wooden pickle?

3. Elf - This should be a tie for third place with Bad(der) Santa, but I decided to just list them alphabetically. For me, this is definitely a warm n' fuzzy movie. It makes me laugh, it makes me feel nice, and it has that special magical touch that easily makes it one of my favourites.

2. Charlie Brown's Christmas  - But of course! Whether you're into the traditional meaning of Christmas or not, this one will always be a classic. I still get a touch of chills when little Linus steps up on stage and says, "Lights please..." and then launches into the Christmas story. "That's what Christmas is all about Charlie Brown." Oh, and the soundtrack... the soundtrack! Vince Guaraldi never gets a break at our place around Christmastime.

And my number one favourite Christmas movie... drumroll please....

1. Scrooged - Yes, believe it or not, Scrooged is my favourite Christmas movie of all time. I love Bill Murray. I love their fun interpretation of the ghosts. I love the humour. I love that nostalgic 80's feel. I LOVE that movie.

Shoot... I just realized that I missed Garfield's Christmas Special. Oh well.... maybe next year my fat furry friend.

Progress Made, Getting Paid, Bracket Parade

I should be wrapping up some contract work or writing the script, but I just wanted to take a quick moment to share the latest. (Not that it's really news, since I wrote about it in my most recent FB status. But anyway...)

I was a bit nervous before our meeting on Monday. I don't know why... I guess because les producers always come back with a few notes or suggestions, and while they're usually rather minor and always well worth the effort of brainstorming and scene shuffling, I've really started growing weary of outline rewrites. I think it's fair to say that I find them time-consuming and much less creative than the actual writing process.

I thought for sure that we had at least another outline to go before we could begin writing again, and so I was honestly shocked at how few notes TC & AS came back to us with. I was also happy that any suggestions they offered, or ones that Jim n' I came up with while chatting, will all be very easily implemented into the dialog of existing scenes - which means no major shuffling!! YAY! When we were done reviewing their notes, I exclaimed, "That's it!?" and TC said that I sounded surprised. I really was. What a huge sigh of relief!!

I look forward to jumping back into writing. We are coming so close to the end of the development process... the only process I've ever known... it's exciting to discuss what comes next.

Either today or next Tuesday (because TC will be away at the Whistler Film Festival), TC & AS will provide us with three thorough A, B and C strategies for going into production next fall. We all agreed that we don't want to shoot this thing in 2011, with a 2012 release. While postponing the film might provide us with more opportunities to increase the budget, there are no guarantees. If DE ends up being a super low-budget $1M movie, then so be it. Of course, we may need to tweak the car crash scene or use creative editing to successfully dodge what we cannot afford, but I have the utmost faith in Jim's talents as a director that he will do a fabulous job, no matter what the budget.

I mean, I know that those of you who know Jim probably recognize that he's very talented... but honest to gawd, I think he is 100 times more talented than what anyone realizes.

Jim is the only person I know who can hear a few notes of a song, and immediately name which scene in what movie that music score is from. He notices when the camera is doing a slow zoom or pan, when the zoom/pan is so subtle and slow that you really have to watch the edges of the TV screen to notice. He also seems to have memorized every shot in every movie he has ever seen and will try to figure out how certain creative shots were achieved, (which he then stores in his vast memory archive for future reference for when he becomes a director someday.) Speaking of memorizing shots, I may have mentioned before that his Grandma still has a stack of notebooks, where an 8-year old Jim tried storyboard movies he had seen in the theater shot-for-shot. There were no VCRs back then, so he knew that if he wanted to see a movie again, he would have to recreate it for himself comic-book style.

I could list a thousand more examples, but I don't think I need to. Jim was born to direct movies, and I am so thrilled that he will finally get that chance! I am confident that he will do a great job, no matter what the budget limitations may be. (Of course, perhaps I'm just being overly biased. But when it comes to anything film-related, he never ceases to amaze me...)

So, that being said, we should find out what our A, B and C strategies are soon enough, and then get an idea of what sorts of potential budgets we may be dealing with. Like I was saying, the lowest will be 1M, so that's not too shabby... Even though our script is a little ambitious, with a lot of locations, a car crash, and a couple FX, I think we'll find ways to make it work.

Although my direct involvement will drastically decrease once all the writing is done, I'm still thrilled to be a part of something so creative n' cool. While big budget movies often wash their hands of the screenwriters after a certain point, I feel very fortunate to find myself in a situation where I will be able to enjoy the rare opportunity of staying somewhat involved and watching how it all comes together.

Anyhow, getting back on topic here, after our Monday meeting had ended, we then received a follow-up email from AS who said that because Jim n' I have worked so hard over these last few months, she hopes we have no objections (ha ha) that they would like to pay us 80% of the remaining 75% of our development funding right now, instead of waiting until we deliver the final draft. Fabulous! While we still need to stick to our existing budget, that extra cash will definitely help soften the holiday blow to our ever-dwindling bank accounts.

So yeah... all very exciting stuff.

Jim n' I are big believers in celebrating all the mini milestones over the course of our journey. So, to treat ourselves for this "No More Outlines" milestone, we went out for a nice dinner at Milestones (ha!). I bought myself some deliciously smelly Lush bath stuff and a CD - The String Quartet's tribute to Tool's Anemia. And after some peer pressure from yours truly, Jim bought himself a special edition of Bottle Rocket on blueray, with all kinds of great extra features.... which is why I was pushing him to get it. It's always very inspirational to hear about other people's journeys and challenges when trying to get their first script off the ground -- and those guys sure did have their share of obstacles, including two years of major rewrites and awful test screenings. And now look at them - they're total superstars! (For those of you who don't know, Bottle Rocket was the indie hit that launched the careers of Writer/Director Wes Anderson, Writer/Actor Owen Wilson, and Actor Luke Wilson.)

Of course, now we're on this real Wes Anderson kick since watching Bottle Rocket and Rushmore. We'll probably watch The Royal Tennenbaum's next. (I know it's not everyone's cup o' tea, but I really enjoyed that movie, plus I love (and own) their groovy coffeehouse-esque soundtrack.) And then, maybe on the weekend we'll go to the theater to see The Fantastic Mr. Fox. (I think we'll skip renting The Life Aquatic and The Darjeerling Limited... neither of which Owen helped write, which left them missing a certain je ne sais quoi in the deadpan humour department. Owen didn't help write Mr. Fox either, but we still really want to check it out.)

Okay, it seems that I'm going on an incredible tangent here and am using far too many brackets - which, to me, indicates going on tangents within tangents. Always a bad sign. On that note, I think it's time for me to stop blogging and get back to work!