I am sitting here in my special little spot, after having stood in the doorway to the main gathering room at The Peanut Butter Cafe & Roadhouse and shushed them all to whispers. I am sitting here and I am going to watch Julia and Julie . . . or maybe it is Julie and Julia or Julie & Julia. I don’t know because I got it on impulse at the Redbox and their cases are interchangeable. Okay, I bit the bullet and used the remote to go to the Main Menu and see the actual title. Only I watched a little scroll work dance around from pots and pans to measuring cups and back again without showing the title. Finally, in the Special Sections part, I found the title and it is, indeed, Julie & Julia.
I intended to watch this movie in the theater when my cousin Glenda first mentioned it to me in August. She probably watched it in a theater, but the one week it was here at the local Strand, I simply could not go. This morning as I passed Redbox and took a gander and on page three of titles, I saw it and thought, “Yes.”
I don’t care what this does to the schedule of my day; I simply do not care at all. Not at all. Whoever thought a movie about cooking would seem so liberating to moi. Oops, sorry, the Julia Child influence, dontcha know. Could it be because this Julia and this Julie are fairly eccentric, if not outright weird, and I so identify with that.
I am now at the part where Julia is competitively chopping onions into a huge mound . . . and i am going to concentrate on watching.
Bon Appetit.