Six Pack and a Potato

Last night we went to see "The Brave One" with Jodie Foster and Terrence Howard. Good movie. Basically the plot goes like this: good, happy girl turns bad and unhappy because some punks kill her fiance in a senseless beating. She gets beaten badly in the attack and the incident leaves her so traumatized she sheds the skin she once inhabited for one that is alien to her but more suited to her current mental state: she turns vigilante and becomes the "cleaner" of New York's scum - well, it's not that she goes looking for trouble, it's just that she somehow conveniently finds herself in it and, oh look, I have a gun. Bang, bang, you're dead. That's the story in a nutshell. Ok, not a very good review on my part, but a very good movie. Plus, I will see anything Jodie Foster is in. I just love this woman and I am the farthest thing from being anybody's fan since I impress very little. But the exception is The Jode. I love The Jode and she is my girl crush.

So we go to eat beforehand with my brother, his wife, his son, son's fiance, and my oldest sister. The night starts out at Red Lobster. I truly hate Red Lobster because I have this thing that I really would rather not make an form of connection to anything that I might be eating later on. These poor lobster greet you at the door, all tied up in their large tank. Lovely. There goes my night.

We order dinner. I want grilled shrimp but my husband says, it's gonna be salty, order something else. My body reacts to salt making me blow up like a tick. The waitress interjects telling me they can serve it without the salt. I actually believe her. I order it. Guess what? It's salty, real salty.

I told you so, he says.

He told you so, the table concurs.

I trade my food with the sibs and Beloved. And now it's time to go. My brother hands my sister her movie ticket.

I wouldn't do that if I were you, I warn. She's gonna lose it.

He doesn't listen. We arrive at the movies. Guess what? My sister lost her ticket. She checks her purse, her car, her pockets. Nothing, zilcho, nada. Oh, she finds it! But guess what? She can't find her cell phone. And here we go again: purse, car, pockets. Nothing, zilcho, nada. We table the search until the end of the movie.

We go inside and begin to choose our seats. An easy task, no? We like the top row. But my nephew likes the first row. His fiance interjects - I don't like the first row, I like the top row. This little bit of new news evolves into a long-winded discussion because he feels she should have mentioned this sometime before, eh, maybe within the last ten years or so they've been together. Meanwhile the rest of us are discussing seating arrangements because it is seven of us - a six pack and a potato (three couples and one lone wolf) - figuring out seating arrangements is like planning appropriate table seating at a wedding. I sit next to my future niece-in-law but my sister-in-law doesn't seem to like that arrangement and instead of telling me to move proceeds to stand right in front of me and start talking to her future daughter-in-law. Okay, I get the hint. Use your words people, I promise I won't be offended. I move next to my sister who is still looking for her cell phone. Lights dim, trailers begin.

The movie ends. We congratulate each other (yes, we're a little loopy that way) on a good choice of film. I ask my husband if he liked it, three words: it was ok. But to him everything is ok even when it's good or excellent. He rarely uses the words good or excellent. Ever.

As we're exiting I notice a couple huddled under a mexican serape with their shoes off and feet on top of the seats in front of them. I comment to my husband, Now that's the way to see a movie! Hmmm, something to keep in mind for next time.

We get outside, we all kiss each other goodbye and congratulate each other once again and leave. And all in all it was a good night despite the salty shrimp, the lost ticket, the lost cell phone and the confusion that ensues anytime we put two or more of my family members together.