Tag Archives: family time

Jan23

Just Some of my Favorite Movie (Line)s

Posted on January 23, 2013 by Grass Oil by Molly Field

Everyone has their favorites.

I have mine; you have yours. Maybe some of mine will remind you of some of yours.

There is no way I can include them all, but these are the ones that I love most of the time, because I remember them so often. I picked the lines I did because I they are more obscure than the more popular lines and I am hopeful that when you read them, you’ll be taken back to your favorite moment in the film. Without further ado, in no particular order:

We’ve come for your daughter, Chuck.
Somebody blows their nose and you want to keep it?
Throw me the idol, I give you the whip.
This town needs an enema!
They pull a knife, you pull a gun. He sends one of yours to the hospital, you send one of his to the morgue.
We released ourselves on our own recognizance.
They fuck you at the drive-thru!
This house is clean.
This is U.S. History, I see the globe right there.
I wish we could just run away.
I’ve never seen sugar do that.
There are some who call me … Tim?
I don’t know, Sparks. But I guess I’d say if it is just us… seems like an awful waste of space.
Listen, I haven’t got a lot of time, but if you love your country, if you’re a patriot, you’ll listen and you’ll listen hard. I’ve got to get to a phone and you gotta make a call.
How much you wanna bet I can throw this football over them mountains?
Once you have a man with no legs, you never go back, baby.
I think this boy’s cheese has done slid off his cracker.
Eunice? There’s a person named Eunice?
But why is the rum gone?
My problem is that it’s 2 A.M. My problem is I’m asleep. I’m on a tour bus with eight stinkin’ men. Rule number one: Don’t propose to a girl on a bus, you got that? Rule number two: Don’t tell her it’s because you had a bad dream.
That’s the beauty of it. I wake up one day, I don’t know where I’m gonna’ end up or who I’m gonna’ meet.
The time for honoring yourself will soon be at an end.
Well, you can’t never let anything happen to him. Then nothing would ever happen to him. Not much fun for little Harpo.
You killed the car.
There’s your Chinaman, Fred.
Well, man from health department say he find rat pellet in pastry but I say no, is big chocolate sprinkle, but he shut store down. So we clean up, make big cookie for to bring customers back.
You, ‘Flock of Seagulls,’ you know why we’re here? Why don’t you tell my man Vincent where you got the shit hid at?
I love my dead gay son.
There’s a shortage of perfect breasts in this world. It would be a pity to damage yours.
And this lamp… that’s all I need.
Here’s to swimming with bow-legged women.
Put a sock in it, boy, or else you’ll be outta here like shit through a goose.
Mother Nature just pissed her pantsuit!
The only way somebody would get that would be to chop off my – finger. Let’s go down to the garden and find out what’s buried there.
Young, young man. Did anyone ever tell you you look like a young prince out of the ‘Arabian Nights’?

Can you name the movies? Here are the answers…

Beetlejuice
Ghostbusters
Raider of the Lost Ark
Batman (Tim Burton)
The Untouchables
Raising Arizona
Beverly Hills Cop
Poltergeist
Fast Times at Ridgemont High
The Great Gatsby
Men in Black
Monty Python’s Quest for the Holy Grail
Contact
It’s a Mad, Mad, Mad, Mad World
Napoleon Dynamite
Trading Places
The Green Mile
What’s Up Doc?
Pirates of the Caribbean
Walk the Line
Titanic
Gladiator
Finding Nemo
Ferris Bueller’s Day Off
Sixteen Candles
Bruce Almighty
Pulp Fiction
Heathers
The Princess Bride
The Jerk
JAWS
Animal House
Tropic Thunder
Rear Window
Streetcar Named Desire

This list isn’t exhaustive of my favorite movies, but they are all favorites. My favorite on the list? Impossible to decide. But the one that makes my whole family including the surly teenager laugh is “What’s Up Doc?” You can’t go wrong, ever with that one. And the clothes? Oh! To die for.

Thank you.

Dec4

Tuesday Morning Press #8: Bowling & A Back-to-Basics Birthday

Posted on December 4, 2012 by Grass Oil by Molly Field

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Tuesday Morning Press #8: Bowling & A Back-to-Basics Birthday

Hello!

This one will be easy today because it’s mostly pictures (right… we’ll see if I can keep my mental trap shut).

The other night, Thing 3 had his 9th birthday party. He wanted to go play laser tag, and that’s what he told his friends he was doing, of course before asking me and Mr. Grass Oil. The thing is: we don’t do big rent-a-Hummer limo and throw a bunch of kids into a dark room before they’re 10. In fact, we don’t do the limo at all.

When his brother had his 10th birthday party, we went to laser tag. It was great. I loved siting in the party room waiting for the kids to come back all sweaty and watch them spill soda everywhere and knock over chairs and accidentally pull the tissue paper tablecloths off the tables taking the boxes of pizza with them. It was the time of my life. I distinctly remember hiding my new suede boots from the mayhem because it was in February and where I live, it used to be cold in February.

So this time, I made an executive decision: “You can invite either three or five friends to join us bowling. That is all. No dark rooms and aggression. Lots of light, smiles and heavy balls and pins.” He chose three (alleluia!) friends and we all fit in the Grass Oil mobile and lumbered off to the local Bowl America at dusk. I chose a small number of friends because I learned: the bigger the party, the less intimacy, the less sharing and the less interaction. My son doesn’t do well with crowds either and three friends is enough for him to keep track of.

We had a GREAT time. I always forget how awesome this place is: what was likely state-of-the art back in the late 70s when it first opened is now a respectable form of cultural antiquity. It gently nods to the long shadows of the 20th century with its linoleum tile floor, etched formica placards, round diner-style bar stools and olde-tyme nearly burnt-out cathode ray tube computer monitors. It doesn’t smell like cigarettes and it doesn’t smell like beer. It smells like bowling.

Here he is… Thing 3 selecting his gear. He started with an 8# ball (OOF!) and when it slammed onto the floor and barely rolled down the lane, his friends told him to get a lighter ball. He did. It worked better then. This place is free of plasma gigawhatevers. No iBowl or iLane apps. No virtual touch anything; everything here is all-touch all the time. Typing in our names reminded me of playing Merlin: the letter buttons had a push-back, something physical that confirmed my presence. Little things like that.

At the bowling alley, there’s an actual ball, wooden floors. History — even though it’s only 30 years, it’s so vastly different from anything going on today.

Check out the ball’s psychedelic swirls; the boys had a laugh and a half over the size of some of the larger balls’ finger holes. All the chrome and vintage styling doesn’t make you yearn for a simpler time because in this building: you are in a simpler time.

The whole place was a slow-down, ain’t no cell phone 3g, 4g, tera-chomp access here. No WiFi because it’s all LoTech and everyone I needed to hear from was with me. I LOVED it.

My boy was the first to score a strike and he actually won for the night. We had the guards up, to prevent complete destruction of the alleys and that proved to be possibly the best decision of the night, other than that pitcher of Sprite and those two large baskets of fries.

Bowling is just … so fun and simple: roll a ball down a lane, try to knock things over. How COOL is that?? It’s like reliving toddlerhood for adults too.

After the bowling, we came back to Grass Oil manor, played some hoops in the dark, immediately decided that was enough of that, came inside to play a little PS3 and then had pizza, ice cream cake and presents that we opened in front of our friends. I read a parenting book a while back, Parents in Charge, and it had a section about how children opening presents in front of their guests had been on a massive and disturbing decline. The author suggested that children need to open their gifts in front of their friends: the givers need to see the delight of the recipient; the other children need to learn / remember how to be gracious and happy for their friend who is being celebrated and the recipient needs to give in-person, real-time gratitude to the giver. My favorite part is when all the kids see the new gifts and talk about how cool they are or that they have one just like it and they love it.

I plan to go back to the lanes with Team Grass Oil at least every few months and each kiddo can bring a friend. Getting back to basics is the best thing we can do for ourselves.

Thank you.

Nov30

In the Donzerly Light

Posted on November 30, 2012 by Grass Oil by Molly Field

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I just missed him. He’s out the door now and I won’t see him until 2:45 when he lumbers through the door with his big feet; sifting through the mail like he knows what anything means, looking for a New Yorker or a The Week to talk about their covers, one of our favorite past times.

It’s quiet now; it’s 6:35 and he left while I was getting a cardigan. I thought I had more time. I just went upstairs for less than a minute, the water was still pouring into the pitcher to make more lemonade. I thought he didn’t walk out the door until 6:35. He left at 6:32. His interest in leaving earlier and hugging less and hiding out more in his room is increasing. The Washington Post has a fantastic photo on the front page of a bald eagle, his favorite raptor when he was younger, scooping a fish out of the water near the Shenandoah and left it by his oatmeal. I don’t know if he saw it. I wrote this post about him and his staggering growth almost two years ago.

His brothers wanted me to wake them up a half-hour earlier to take a shower. I’m feeling selfish. I like the quiet. It’s either right now or super late at night when I get to be alone. Did you see the moon last night? It was gorgeous. I just saw it again when I brought in the papers.

I don’t normally do this 5:50-6:32 a.m. shift with my Thing 1. His father does, but his father is upstairs sleeping off his wrist surgery. He injured himself during an age denial or flat-out age rejection activity at his parent’s beach house the last week in August. 500mg of Percocet and 25 mg of a pharmacy-grade antihistamine making things easier, supposedly preparing the body for the transition from when his nerve block wears off. Mr. Grass Oil is a wonderful father, better than any I knew when I was growing up; he is a blessing to me, to us all.

I tip my hat to single mothers and to those whose spouses have ultra-demanding jobs. I don’t know how they do it. We came home from the hospital and my stitched-up husband was greeted by the boys like a hero returning from war. Lots of small jumps up and down, “Daddy! You’re home! How are you? Daddy!” sweet strokes of kindness, awareness of his injury, ushered in by gentle and sincere excitement. I looked at them all with gratitude. After the flurry, Mr. Grass Oil went up to bed and surrounded himself with pillows in much the same fashion as I did when I brought home a son from the labor and delivery floor at the hospital and insisted on its sleeping on my chest for weeks.

It grew quieter, the boys were still pinging off the excitement from our arrival.

Nervous chatter, gentle taps from Thing 2. “How was your day, Mama? Was your drive home ok? … Thing 1 was mean to me, Mom,” is what I got.

“The day was good, thanks! You know, I read some of the paper, I went to yoga, I went to –”

“He told me to get off the PS3 when I wasn’t ready to…” he interrupted.

“After yoga I took the car to the shop for inspection and then your fath–”

“I was in the middle of a mission. I had my new cheat-codes book and everything. Just because he’s oldest …”

“I TOOK THE CAR IN FOR INSPECTION AND THEN I FOUGHT A BADGER WITH MY BARE HANDS. AFTER THAT I WENT TO THE HOSPITAL WITH YOUR DAD TO HAVE MY FACE REMOVED. ARE YOU LISTENING TO ME?”

It’s one of my pet peeves. Don’t ask me how I’m doing, don’t feign interest in a conversation if you’re not gonna listen to my story. And that fight with the badger was epic.

“He didn’t even give me a countdown, like you do… He just came in and said, ‘Get off. Now.'”

“I saw it out by the garbage. It had already killed a beaver because it was wearing its pelt as its own, but I knew it was a badger because of how it loped and beavers don’t have claws like that. They’re supposed to be endangered… or something, right? So I walked up to it with my dustbuster and I said, ‘Badger, get your stupid claws off my garbage can. Now.’ And you know what she said? She said, ‘Honey badger don’t care.’ Just like that! She talked just like one in the youTube video…”

He started to laugh.

It’s how I try to defuse fights around here.

It doesn’t always work. Sometimes I get sucked in, like a hurricane feeding off the weather systems as it approaches land. It’s hard to fight that draw. To be able to vent whatever frustrations you’re feeling at the moment or whatever comes to mind, frankly, based on the energy of someone else’s rant on the sting of inequality. Single moms work hard. I’m just 18 hours into this gig and it’s not fun. I can do it, and I may end up enjoying it because it’s so early and quiet, but every day, even on the weekends? And those parents whose spouses are in the military… mad props, peeps.

It’s 7:03 now. I better go. It’s time for my official shift to begin. If Things 2 and 3 are late they make it hard for the rest of the day. Thing 3 is always the hardest to wake; he’s a night owl like me. Getting him a Kindle with a lighted cover for his birthday two weeks ago wasn’t the worst thing in the world, but it wasn’t the smartest either. Look at the book review he gave at 10:37 the other night which posted to my email because all the Kindles are on my account:

His little apple doth not rolleth far from my tree.

It’s 7:06. I better go. I don’t want to, but I have to. I have a couple more things to say on here, but I’ll put it together at another time. This was nice, writing in the silence.

Thank you.

PS – for being such good readers, here’s the Honey Badger video on youTube … it’s quite funny.

Sep16

More Easy (Dinner) Recipes 2.0

Posted on September 16, 2012 by Grass Oil by Molly Field

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About a week ago I posted some easy dinner recipes and I think I was helpful. Did anyone make any of the things I proposed? Did you change them up a bit to suit your preferences? I talked to some friends about what I was going to make for dinner during the week that just passed and they asked me to post them again online and so here they are.

I make a killer home made chicken noodle soup – it’s almost entirely vegetable, save for the chicken. If you’re a vegan I suspect you could use tofu as a replacement for the chicken. It’s hearty, it’s a beautiful looking soup and it’s very healthy. Best part: with the help of a blender, the kids have NO clue it’s loaded with nutrients we all need.

Don’t Tell Mikey Chicken Noodle Soup

1 14 oz. can of stewed tomatoes

5 cups chicken stock (however you get there is up to you; I use “better than broth” as a starter)

1 medium onion, cut large slices so the kids can fish them out (and you can too, you’ll see why later)

3 stalks celery, chopped large

1 cup of carrots, chopped

1 large sweet potato, cleaned, NOT skinned and chopped into 1″ medallions

1 average size green squash, cleaned, NOT skinned: then grated

1 average size yellow squash, cleaned, NOT skinned: then grated

4 chicken breasts sliced thinly into strips

1/4 tsp nutmeg

noodles of your choosing: egg, rice, wide, bowtie pasta… whatevs.

Leaving the skins on all your veggies as I’ve noted also keeps the nutrients in them.

Put everything BUT the noodles together in a large pot and let it all get to know each other for about an hour on medium. The point is that you want to let the celery get soft and the onion cook through and the potatoes get soft because… you’re going to fish out all the large vegetables (or as much as you prefer, you might wanna leave some for aesthetics) and put them in the blender with about a cup of the broth. Add the nutmeg.

That’s correct: you’re going to frappé the veggies in a blender and then pour them all back into the pot. This way, you, your children and whomever else is lucky enough eat your soup won’t know they’ve consumed all that yummy goodness unless they wanna know. Bring to a boil and about 20 minutes before you’re ready to serve, add your noodles — OR — you can cook the noodles separately and ladle them into each bowl and then pour the soup on top of them – your choice. Sometimes pasta will starchify (made up word) the soup and make it goopy if the water temperature isn’t right.

To completely counteract the health benefits of the soup, my children insist on pillsbury crescent rolls to accompany the meal. I “sometimes” forget and we end up having whole wheat bread alongside. The point is they want to dip. I get that.

You can do all this in a crock pot – but the boiling part with the pasta is where you’d want to cook the pasta in a separate pot.

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Classic Grilled Cheese and Tomato Soup

The point of including this recipe is that for me anyway, I often forget that the most classic and simple dinner is forgotten because of stress and panic.

We had this the other night (we actually had my utter favorite grilled sammie which is Grilled Ham and Swiss on Rye – with a pickle spear) and the kids were all “Mom You’re The Best This Is My Favorite Night Ever!” yummy tummy about it. You can dress this dinner up with a nice bisque and garnish with a swirl of sour cream and a spray of parsley, but my team doesn’t care if the food is pretty yet.

Whole wheat artisan bread (if you can, otherwise just get a nice whole wheat bread)

Cheese (of your choosing – if you like a nice smokey cheese, GOuda for it)

Tomato soup (you can make this yourself or grab a can and whip it up in no time)

We use real butter and a cast iron pan to grill the sammies. You can use a panini pan, a regular pan, it doesn’t matter… the point is that you smile when you make this because it brings you back to the last time you had a really yummy soul-foody dinner.

Eat. Indulge. Get a cloth napkin, set the table and serve with your favorite beverage. Mine is 2/3 water and 1/3 cranberry juice w/ a lime wedge.

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Alshee Pancakes – 21st Century (aka lazy) Style

These pancakes are so protein heavy we often have them for dinner. They have a distinctly eggy flavor, so if you don’t like that, this one isn’t for you. The kids can’t get enough of them. Today we had them for brunch with turkey bacon (serve what you like alongside yours) and I had mine with pumpkin butter. We use true maple syrup because I hate the other stuff. They were heavenly. And they should be because Alshee died in 1990. Alshee was my great aunt. She was the bomb; she would drink a glass of beer on Saturday after mowing her lawn well into her 70s. Her summer house in Canada was kitty-cornered to ours until it was set on fire (arson) by some local teens looking for a place to party. Every summer Saturday we would waddle over to Alshee’s kitchen where she was waiting to make us breakfast. She never married. She was amazing. You can give thanks to Alshee when you eat these. She will smile on you for it. If you suddenly smell rose water and baby powder, she’s lurking to make sure you’re doing it right.

Get a large bowl or — a large (8 cup) measuring cup with a spout.

1 cup milk

4 eggs

1.5 cup of Krusteaz or Bisquik — or if you make your own pancake mix, just use 1.5 cups to the above ingredients. Sometimes I replace a .5 cup of the mix with whole wheat flour for fiber.

Using an egg beater (we have a hand one because I hate plugging in and it reminds me of Alshee when she used a hand egg beater too) mix all the ingredients until slightly frothy. You will have little pockets / spheres of dry mix and that’s OK, it all works out. Trust me.

This mixture will be soupy and sort of a soft yellow in color due to the egg yolks. That’s what gives the pancakes their crepe-like awesomeness.

Set your oven on warm or 200˚ – put a nice earthenware plate in it waiting for the pancakes.

The griddle must be hotter than you think it should be. If you use a plug-in griddle, set it on 375˚ and thinly coat it with butter by rubbing a pat of it with a folded paper towel onto the griddle (Alshee used bacon grease – she never messed around). When the butter begins to smoke, pour your batter — slowly, it’s soupy! — onto the griddle. Watch the griddle! In less than 40 seconds you’ll be flipping the cakes.

When the pancakes bubble and then begin to pop, flip ’em. Put them on the plate in the oven, start your next rounds.

All of this batter will make about 35-40 4″ pancakes. They will go fast and they’re thin – they’re nothing like your standard IHOP deathcakes.

Serve with whatever you like. LL Bean makes a wonderful blueberry syrup; so does Trader Joe’s. Leftovers (horrors!) can be refrigerated for about two days. They heat up in the microwave nicely.

Telling you about this recipe reminds me of the Jim Gaffigan bit on (pan)cakes:

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The point to all of this is to remind ourselves to slow down a spell and to have communion with each other at the table. Talk about the day, keep it light and easy, especially for the chef.

So, let me know if you have questions. I love all these foods and we eat them around here pretty regularly. I appreciate you following my blog and putting up with me and my randomness. I give these recipes so you will eat and come back.

Don’t worry — I won’t serve you this:

What used to be French Bread. That’s me, proud chef. Apparently I set the oven on broil. …. RIGHT?!

Thank you.

ps – I have won a few awards from some wonderful bloggers and the honor of these awards is to bring awareness to other bloggers which I am very privileged to do. Please check out the post that highlights some fun places on the web: https://mollyfielddotcom.wordpress.com/2012/09/15/awards-awards-three-posts-in-won/