Inappropriate, That

It’s 80 degrees out, the sun is booming, the sky is so blue it’s about to crack and I’m sitting at my computer, watching Little Women.

It figures. Chicago finally admits that winter is over and I have to fuss over a movie that screams snow and Christmas.


Actually, it’s kind of fitting. The girls sit, trying to keep stiff upper lips about war and poverty (I don’t know about the Civil War blues but I do have the same reaction to a plate of sausages these days).


Jo sits up at her desk at night, pouring out her stories, aching for “transformation”, despite the impossible odds against a woman writer in the late 1800s (how’s that for making me feel like a whiny idiot?).


Christian Bale before he became CHRISTIAN BALE and, yes, the screaming caps apply. I have to say, if those stories about him staying in character while filming is true, does that mean we had our very own Laurie walking around for a few months back in 1994? The thought makes me unbearably happy.

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