Silent Hill = Little Thrill

I must be feeling better, because I find myself wishing for the cold embrace of death less and less. I don't remember that particular item being listed with the rest of the side effects on my antibiotics bottle, so something must have worked.

Denver Mom and I got a rare treat yesterday. After begging and crying and threatening to entice a situation that could inspire a movie of the week, Chunk's grandma agreed to drop in and watch the little guy while we escaped off to the movie theater.

Have I mentioned how much I love movies? Going to the theater is the one thing I truly miss from our childless days. Everything else, from sleeping in, spending irresponsibly, and skiing every weekend were easy enough habits to break, but movies... every time I see a theater, I find myself a little heartbroken.

Why is that? I rarely have a good time at the theater. Watching movies at home on our small hi-def set (see "spending irresponsibly" in the space above) is usually a much better and more enjoyable experience, but there's something about that quick dim of the lights and the thrill of coming attractions that just gets to me.

So, Denver Mom and I went down the hill and bought a pair of tickets to see "Silent Hill." We went in knowing that it wasn't going to be "Citizen Kane," but I like horror movies and wasn't hoping for much more than a creepy time. Giddy, I waited for the movie to start, and... and... and... it was terrible. Even with my standards as low as they were, with my desperation to see something... anything... so bright and burning and irrational, it was still horrible. Our first date in months was a total failure thanks to a miserable time of loud, dumb, and dull.

And then, we came home. Chunk and his grandma were at the park, so we went out after them, walking along the path as they were walking back to meet us. Seeing the look of recognition spread over Chunk's face as he first saw, then understood, who was coming his way... that was great.