Not-So-Silent Movie

In the spring and fall, when we're not sweating bullets, I open up my 121-year-old Victorian house so it can breathe a little bit. Most of our windows have been painted shut, dang-nab-it...but the newer ones still open and I have a big screen door at the front. It can get musty in here and start smelling like an old lady house, so I take every chance I can get to air it out. I light candles and put on music or play it myself. It kind of freaks me out when neighbors from a street over tell me they're hearing me practice my flute. Music is a wonderful thing, but the tedium of scales and arpeggios might bring out the Phantom or something. Speaking of which...our wind ensemble (Carrollton Wind Ensemble, look it up, buy tickets...) is practicing a new Phantom of the Opera arrangement by Elijah Green. It's not the Andrew Lloyd Webber one, please, please put that one in your thinking cap before buying tickets. This one is an accompaniment to the old silent film with Lon Chaney. I had never seen it in all my born days until last week. Why would I ever watch a silent movie when there's plenty of talkies? Besides, I'm still only 39. That's my story and I'm sticking to it. This version is fascinating, you must come out and see it. 

I get to feeling sorry for myself on Friday nights. I have a long history of that. When we were kids, my sister and I would watch The Brady Bunch and The Partridge Family on Friday evening. All I could imagine was that the neighborhood girls were at the skating rink and I was stuck at home, watching other (fake) people have fun in TV land. My Mama said that everybody was smoking and kissing boys at the skating rink, so I wasn't allowed to go. She was probably right and I'd have ruined my life right then and there. I didn't know at the time that there was such a thing as FOMO (Fear of Missing Out), but I was born with this condition. That's why I'm on the fluffy side. If anyone is eating bon-bons, I have to have some too. It's also why I can't get anything done, if there's a social event going on. Or if someone pops in for a visit, I ain't doing any laundry or dishes while they're here. I want to be all-there and hate to miss any of the conversations. It's probably why my bladder is already ruined, being stretched one too many times while conversing with fascinating people.

This particular Friday night, Ken was working until midnight and I was alone with the animals. That can be soothing, but not this time. I opened up the house to the cool night air. There's a chill in the air, so the critters are starting to try to get into the house. I ran out to the mailbox (well, I shouldn't lie...I walked spastically) and did a crazy dance when I found myself face to face with a garden spider hanging right in my path. I shook the water bugs (read: big, ole gigantic roaches with an agenda) off the cat food and brought it inside.  There was a gentle rain and fun sounds from the concert down the street. I desperately needed to practice the Phantom, so I hunkered down, opening up the actual movie while I played along. Things were going swimmingly as I worked on scales and exercises, then moved on over to the main event. The crisp night air was starting to nip at my fingers and toes, but I kept on working. The FOMO was significant and all I could think of was all my grandkids and the fact that I wanted to curl up with a few of them and a warm blanket. Or my hunky husband. But none of those people were there. 

It is about midway through the movie when the Phantom gets unmasked. It's the silliest thing you've ever seen, if you have normal proclivities and have already seen other modern scary movies, but I don't watch horror movies or attend witch covens. When that dumb girl pulls off his mask, you want to laugh but then you might want to scream. I mean, he doesn't have a nose, for heavens' sake. And I'm supposed to keep playing my flute, which requires air and relaxed lips. It was then that I decided to quickly close up the windows and the front door. I tried to get back to some serious playing, but it just wasn't happening. I curled up with my blanket and a flighty movie about some over-empowered Australian woman, a pilot, who falls in love with a wimpy but fantastically cute guy who is scared of everything, including his own Daddy. Why would she do that? The abs will definitely fall later and then what will she do? And why is he such a chicken? He's got everything going for him but he can't step up and be the hero. Well, he kind-of does some of that at the very last minute but if I were her I'd be worried that might not hold up under duress. I am a woman, so I tend to blame women for the state of these things, but I digress...

I got ready for bed, gathered the dog and took her to the side door for her last hurrah. The door was unlocked. It had been unlocked all night! As I rushed poor Sadie to do her business, all I could think of was nose-less crazy people in the corners of the yard. Or probably already inside the house. Now who's the chicken?