No Penguins, Just Squid

This weekend we had a long overdue date night, and finally got out to see a movie. This time I'm pretty sure the movie we saw, The Squid and The Whale, won't be co-opted by the religious right, unless they want to use it as a cautionary tale about what happens to little boys who swear and masturbate. I found it very funny in a painful way, but I was concerned that TrophyHusband wasn't enjoying it, because it's about people in NYC behaving badly during a messy divorce in the '80s, a situation close to TH's own childhood experience.

I needn't have worried. As we were leaving, I said, "Well, at least you know your parents' divorce could have been worse!"

"What are you talking about?" he said. "My parents' divorce was worse. Way worse. In the movie, no one had to call the cops, and no one spit at each other, and they never played actual physical tug-of-war with any of the kids ... this looked pretty civilized! And the kid only drinks — nobody ended up in drug rehab."

I had sort of forgotten some of his worst stories. The weird thing is, he still maintains that he had a happy childhood, even though he doesn't remember a time when his parents weren't at war with each other. Makes me think it hardly matters what we do to HellBoy — he'll make his own interpretation of events anyway.

Then we went to a pub and had a nice dinner and a pint.

Now I've got too much to do before we have to get on a plane Wednesday, which I'm trying not to think about. I'm just hoping for one family holiday during which nobody vomits. And for a little free time to catch up on some good blogs.