The Five Strands of A Sedentary Empress

You're so fine you blow my mind

I woke to the sound of wailing downstairs. When I got to the source, she was standing in her little red nightie, hands wringing, in the middle of a pool of vomit: Frosted Flakes, juice and Children' Advil. Wakey, wakey, sunshine!

M. had been with her when it happend and looked calm, despite the fact that it was the kitchen, and that there was semi-digested food stuffs all over it. He whisked her to the bathtub and I got out the mop and bucket, even though I'd not had my tea, nor had I really convinced myself it wasn't a nightmare. After everything was cleaned, including her, I sat down with my own bowl of cereal and sliced strawberries and flipped around the television to look for something distracting. I settled on Gilmore Girls, being that's it's Sunday and precious little else was on. M. came down and sighed 'Gilmore Girls', like it were the worst possible show I could be watching. I scolded him lightly and said that it was over in five minutes and also, he'd been upstairs for forty odd minutes and it wasn't like I was going to sit down and watch 'Orange County Choppers', or whatever the hell he was watching when I came down. He got defensive and said 'I was bathing our daughter!', like I had been doing nothing, like I hadn't been ankle deep in masticated, wet cereal. So, I let it go, and he hastily made a cup of coffee and thumped up the stairs to his office. Great start to a cold, grey day.

It wasn't about the television show, though. We're both tired of all the sickness around here, both tired of waking up feeling the beginnings of some other foreign viral invasion. He likes his gearhead shows and I like girlie stuff and it's tough to find something which marries the two. I finished my cereal, checked on the wee one who had decided she felt an 'eensie, teensie bit better', and I stomped off to my own corner of the house. I was prepared for a day of uneasy silence.

Then, he popped in about an hour or so ago and said we had something serious to discuss. Wonderful, I thought. What's he going to lay on me now? The possibilities were frightening and endless. Then, he smiles and said It's Oscar night! Your favourite night! We need to discuss what kind of snack food you want. You name it, I'll get it, and you can choose whatever you like. You want finger foods, I'll get them. You want wine? I'll go get some. Just tell me what.

How can I not love a man who will indulge me on Oscar night? I know most people think it's stupid and pointless, but to me, Oscar night is similar to Christmas. I love the pageantry, the drama, the surprises. I'm a movie fanatic with a sometimes shaky grip on reality when it comes to separating the image from the actual person. I want to see if Angelina gives Jen an evil grin. I want to know who they're wearing. I care about who is dating who and what irreverent and inappropriate thing Mickey Rourke might say if he wins. I don't think he'll win, but you never know, and I kind of want him to. I want Kate Winslet to win because I feel like she and I could really enjoy ourselves if we were sitting in a pub together, plus, I like that she's a real woman. I desperately want to see 'Slumdog Millionaire', because I've always loved Bollywood music and Danny Boyle. I am totally jazzed about the whole thing, and often I get embarrassed when people laugh at me for it. It's my thing, though, and I can't deny how much pleasure it brings me. I want Hugh Jackman to be funny, or at least entertaining, but if he's not, that's okay. I love Meryl Streep for her genuine personality and I love Angelina Jolie because you can't help but look at her. I love Philip Seymour Hoffman for his slovenly, unpolished appearance and I love Mickey Rourke because he's so self-deprecating and human. I really want Johnny Depp to be there. I also want to see Daniel Day Lewis again. Those two are on my freebie five.

So, after much thinking, I came up with spinach salad, baguette, wine, strawberries and a Snickers bar. M. was incredulous, You can have whatever you want and you pick the same stuff you always eat? Come on! Think big! Go nuts! Anything you want! Pizza, Chinese food, Indian food... I just smiled and reminded him that my body isn't really so forgiving these days about indulgence, and that for me, all of the foods I asked for make me happy. I feel full just thinking about nice he is to do it, to care enough to cater to my whims when I have basically been useless lately, what with all my various ailments and my whining about being unemployed. That he loves me makes my head swim. I am truly grateful that he is man enough to deal with the Oscars as though it's the Daytona 500. He has his priorities straight.

Go Mickey, go Kate. I'll be cheering you on with a Snickers bar in each fist. They're better than pom pom's, let me assure you.