Monthly Archives: February 2013

Richard Armitage Observation #1; or Going to Hell in A Handbasket

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I’m having problems with new meds and posting on two hours of sleep.  It does wonders for judgment.  Just sayin’.

I still have a jumble of semi-coherent observations about The Hobbit tour bouncing around in my head.  Naturally, Richard Armitage’s interviews have been foremost in my mind.  While he’s evolved over the years in presentation, I’ve noticed one aspect has always remained the same: his head movements.  Initially I interpreted these delicate nods and dips of the head as indications of shyness and many did following his early interviews.  Over time, I’ve come to believe he’s not as shy as he seems (for reasons requiring a whole ‘nother post).  Yes, I think the degree stated by fans is a trope.  However, I do think he’s retained the mannerisms of much earlier years.  Notice the earlier days of mostly looking down and peering through his lashes, gentle head bobs and tilts.  (With the deluge of interviews, it’s been hard to find a snippet that exemplifies what I mean).

Here’s one from three years ago.

http://youtu.be/wIhj_dA8TG4?t=48s

 

Here’s another from December past.

 

He reminded me of some one. But who?  At first, I thought it was Princess Diana, famously known for her introverted looking through her lashes interviews.  But then I recalled she didn’t move her head much.  So, who else was famous for the very delicate, almost placed, little graceful nods and bobs?  Then I remembered – Topo Gigio!  I kid you not folks, look at this.  Notice the dreamy eyes and graceful head dips and bobs.

 

For the those not of a certain age, Topo Gigio is a famous Italian mouse who I adored when he appeared regularly on the Ed Sullivan show back in the stone age (read: 1960’s).  Little Topo became an Italian and Spanish cultural icon.  He seems to have seen better days now; the last I saw him, he was pitching spaghetti sauce on Italian television in 2005.  Now, it’s not a bad thing that RA reminds me of an adorable little puppet.  It just tickles my funny bone.

I’ll go lie down now.

The Redo; or Happy New New Year

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Recently at home

2:13PM

My eyes open slowly.  Three faces hover fuzzily over me. Eventually, the faces of my id, superego, and ego (Jada, Jodi, and Quiet One) sharpen into view.

Jodi grins and chirps. “Hey, she’s coming around!”

Jodi nods warily.

Quiet One sighs in apparent relief.

I blink.  Something about the light… it’s much brighter.  Things feel lighter again.

My Pomeranian Patty’s face suddenly fills my field of vision.  She’s wearing a little white nurse’s smock and matching cap.  I notice that the trio is also wearing smocks of various colors with Jodi’s being the loudest.  Neon rainbow.  Naturally.

Patty barks sharply to get my attention again and eyes me critically.  Little paws clack away on her iDog beside me. She speaks into the microphone, listening obviously to responses.   She rapid fires a series of questions at me.

I blink.  “Yes, I feel much better … no, I feel neutral … you were born in 2005 and came to live with me Thanksgiving weekend, 2008.  Homicidal urges? Gosh… no, no homicidal urges.”

I sit up and glance around apprehensively for blood on the walls.  Nope.

Jodi gives a thumbs up sign.  “We had to check.  Remember the flight to Mayo Clinic with the coughing, puking, whining tot behind you, and obsessive Chatty Cathy next to you? And you finally arrived starving at the hotel at 1:00AM?  You showed such restraint.  We were so proud of you!”

Jada sighs again happily.

Quiet One snickers.

I remember. “That’s because I couldn’t think how to fashion my plastic cup into a deadly weapon.”

Patty continues chattering into the mic.  I arch a brow at the trio.

Jada explains. “Patty is skyping with Dr. F. on your progress.”

I lie back against the pillows.  My anti-depressive medication had seemingly stopped working six weeks ago. After a alarming downward spiral since New Year’s Eve, I sought tertiary care at Mayo Clinic with Dr. F.  Acting on a hunch from Dr. G., Dr. F. sprang into action.  Within hours, she ascertained that my medication had been effected by severe hormonal changes caused by perimenopause.   She zipped the prescriptions to my local pharmacy, saying that if this wasn’t the answer, I had to return in two months.

I blink again.  By George, I think she got it in one.  I felt absolutely fine.  Wow.

I smile at Patty, who smiles back and ends the call.  So, Dr. F. understands Canine too?  Brilliant.

I throw back the covers and leap out of bed, grinning at the quartet.  “Right!  So, where were we?”

They look at each other.

Jada’s smile turns lopsided.  “Erm, about the tree and stuff …”

I notice finally the sound of music from the living room.  Is that Christmas music on a loop?

Patty throws her head back and howls agonizingly.

Oh.  Right.