January mini-break and why I can't visit Glendale cinema for a while

Sunday, January 17 2010

Decided on Wednesday that I would definitely take Friday off to see my parents and deliver my father’s overdue Christmas present. It’s the final day of Ruff’s vacation so it dovetails nicely. Hastily submit my leave form Wednesday afternoon even though there’s no one to authorize it. Boss’s PA cross because she asked me 3 times on the Friday prior if I had anything to add to the weekly staff bulletin about my movements (titter) for the coming week. Briefly wonder why she’d asked me three times. Did my usual stammery blushy apology which seemed to placate her inner control freakiness, although suspect it makes her mad that she can’t deny me.

By 9am on Friday, it appears the meteorologists are correct in their gleeful assessment of the heat over the next two days. We are sweating already in our crappy little house. Load enough clothing for six months and poor sick Tiki in the car. Take my car because it has air-conditioning and is kinder for sick-cat. I drive because it’s my car and because I can drive there in little over an hour without breaking the speed limit. When Ruff drives, something happens to the very fabric of time itself. The universe expands and contracts. We grow old and wrinkly in this version of Narnia, and it’s permanent. The air conditioning performs badly in this heat. We listen to Vivaldi and Breabach the Scottish folk band.

I always love the first glimpse of my parent’s house. It makes you smile. The dogs bark a welcome but no-one comes to the front door as they usually do. We have to knock. It’s shutup tight against the heat. Take Tiki out of the cage. She’s not well enough to be angry about the car-trip, or interested enough to explore, or anxious enough to avoid the resident cat. She heads for the nearest couch and lies down. It worries me. But it’s nicer here for her than at our house as they have reverse cycle airconditioning in two rooms. Bliss. Father turns one off admonishing us surprised innocents about the cost. When mother comes back into the room she turns it back on. She tells us that he always does that. Disappointed to find that we aren’t sleeping in the Boat Room downstairs – so called because sailing ship pictures sit upon blue walls. Mum’s sister and husband have been given that privilege. We have been allocated to the top all purpose room with the twin beds pushed together. It’s as hot as Hades. No matter as it’s only for one night. Nice to see Aunty and Uncle again. They’re always the same no matter how long between visits. It comforts me. But of course I wonder what they ‘really’ think of me and my lovely but awkward in company husband. Because that’s what I do. I need to torture myself.

It’s too hot to be outside with the dogs. It’s too hot to walk by the lake or take a swim. I feel restless. Ask Ruff what he thinks about seeing a movie. He is agreeable as always. The choices come down to Avatar and Bran Nue Dae. I’m rooting for the latter. He’s surprisingly determined about the former. I acquiesce. I always complain about his indecisiveness, secretly squirm at how pliable he can be, so don’t want to squash his moment of assertiveness.

I like this heat if only for the few minutes it takes to walk across the cinema carpark. It feels like a recharge. The girl at box office asks if we have a preference in seating. Ruff replies ‘whatever’, and I just gulp knowing that somewhere in the recess of my brain is an actual preference but as usual my brain fogs over whenever I have to answer rapid fire questions asked by chirpy 16 year olds. We buy munchies – a coke and popcorn for me, and a choc top for Ruff. In the theatre find out that we are dead centre of row P, and most people are already seated. I squeeze my fat arse (hereafter known as FA) past all the knobbly knees and get to the centre. Ruff has not moved. He seems to be hovering at the edge of the aisle. My quick as lightening Gemini spirit curses his slow ponderous Cancer soul. I glare. He indicates that I have squeezed FA into row Q not P. Our seats are directly below me. My quick as lightening Gemini spirit contemplates the options. I can squeeze FA back through row Q and then back again through row P OR I can clamber over the seats in front of me and bingo I’ll be in the right seat. Tell myself sternly that I’m 40 now and 40 year old librarians with matronly bodies don’t clamber over cinema seats. So I hit upon the idea that I will leave my drink and popcorn and bag on the seat in front which will make it much easier for me and my FA to navigate back through the rows. I am pleased with this decision. I place the popcorn, drink and bag on the seat below. Then I reconsider the bag and lift it back up unfortunately upsetting the drink which spills with what looks like a Six Million Dollar Man slow motion run, all over Ruff’s designated seat and sideways in the seat next to it which is occupied by a man wearing white shorts. He has mighty quick reflexes or else ice splashed onto something important. He immediately jumps around frantically wiping the splotches of coke from his seat, steadfastly ignoring my gasping apologies. Another man just behind me is trying not to laugh his bum off . As gracefully and quickly as I can, I squeeze past all the knobbly knees again, leaving the empty cup and medium sized popcorn on the seats, and if I had a tail you know where it would be. Ruff is solicitous and asks if I want to leave the cinema. I’m tempted. But hell, we had just paid a small fortune in tickets, 3D glasses and food, and you know willful waste and all that. Besides, I knew if we left, it would be more than just a waste of money, I would brood and wonder forever and a day, at my never ending clumsiness. Ruff would be supportive and kind and absolve me of all blame if I slipped out quietly and red faced, and I didn’t think I could bear that. I don't want to escape my stupidity, but face up to it, and make it right. So I grab the sleeve of the nearest usher and shrilly tell him what has happened in Row P. I tell him that I spilt my drink and the seat was soaking and my poor lonely popcorn is up there. Yep - I whinge to a 16 year old boy who looks slightly repulsed quite frankly. But to his credit, he mans up and looks me straight in the eye and says he’ll fix everything. He finds Ruff and me a nice little corner in the cinema far far away from everyone else, and a little while later, another nice young laddie comes along with a replacement drink and popcorn. Good on you Glendale cinema!! And even though I'd made a fool of myself, and inconvenienced others, I think because I faced up to it, the nasty little voice which resides within me which enjoys telling me I'm a loser was gratifyingly silent.

Oh and the movie. I quite enjoyed it and the nearly three hours didn’t drag as much as I thought it would. It was very beautiful, and somewhat predictable and preachy, but a good lesson. I did enjoy the feline qualities displayed by the Navi. I'm not really much of a reviewer. I don't think I'd race out and see it again, but Ruff absoultely loved it, and will see it again.

The rest of the weekend went by uneventfully. My parents are easy going and lovely. Ruff sharpened mum’s knives and gardening clippers and we went for a swim. We tried to keep Tiki and mum and dad’s cat Tonkie separated for the duration of our stay, but they finally met just before we left. It had to have been the laziest faceoff between two cats that I’ve ever seen. She was lying under a table when Tonkie approached her, she lifted her head lazily and hissed and he backed off to a more secure vantage point and that was that. She’s old and wasn’t feeling well and just couldn’t be bothered. She might be a bit different when she’s feeling better.

And then we went home.