7 Quick Takes Friday (vol. 198)
The Minor Revisions producer just emailed this to me:
(The answer is C…though they could have gotten a much better shot if they’d asked me about eating fried scorpions topped with cilantro while stuck on a plane experiencing turbulence with a toddler who has just discovered how to take off her diaper.)
As the show continues to come together, it is impressed upon me just how much these kinds of things all come down to the editing. I say without a shred of false humility that the raw footage alone carries the potential to be one of the most boring programs ever produced in the moving picture format. I mean, just imagine a shot of me slowly washing a dish, then putting it in the dishwasher, then looking up and saying, “Heh-heh. Time for laundry!” So when I say that the clips I’ve seen look genuinely entertaining, and I think that Minor Revisions is going to be a fantastic program that’s really fun to watch, 100% of the credit is due to the producer and the editors. The work that they’re doing borders on wizardry.
So the producer emailed me this week and said she could use a shot of us homeschooling. For whatever reason, they didn’t get any of that footage when they were here (NOT because our school year didn’t start until October-ish, and there was nothing remotely education-related going on in this house during that week in September. Nooooo way.) Anyway, she asked if I could take our little Flip video camera and get a quick shot. It was a more difficult request than it would seem, since there are no adults around to serve as camerapeople during homeschool time, and our Flip is perpetually low on batteries.
Then yesterday an extremely non-tech-savvy friend stopped by just as we were getting out the school books, and I pressed her into service to help me capture this scene. She reacted to the camera as if I’d handed her a ticking bomb, and the red Low Battery light was blinking. In other words: This is all I was going to get, so this clip had better work. I hit Record for her, ran over to the table, and cheerfully announced to the children that it was time to start school. I triumphantly pulled out a worksheet and announced that we were going to engage in a fun and educational game of pretending to write checks, where you put the numerals in the little box, then spell out the amount on the long line. My son protested loudly, “BUT YOU’VE NEVER TAUGHT US TO WRITE REAL WORDS!” I glanced at the camera, then shot him a look of dramatic feigned confusion mixed with barely restrained anger and a very fake smile. And then the battery died.
Let’s just hope that they’re planning to use this as SILENT footage.
As it turns out, the first Sunday of Advent was not last weekend. Oddly, the Pope did not jump to reschedule the entire liturgical year to make it match what I proclaim on my blog.
What happened was that, earlier that week, an acquaintance said in passing, “Do you believe that Advent starts this Sunday?!” I thought it was a rhetorical question, but evidently she was honestly asking. Anyway, anyone who lit their wreath in vain last Sunday has now learned a valuable lesson about relying on me for liturgical year advice.
I have met my Christmas card sensei. I thought I was a Christmas card guru; in my ignorance and pride, perhaps I even had fleeting fantasies that I had a lock on this holiday tradition. Then I received my friend Kathryn Whitaker‘s card, and saw her post with pictures of children working quietly to put them all together (with seasonal tunes playing in the background), and had a phone call with her in which she revealed that she always has the cards in the mail before December 1, even on the years that she hosts a big Thanksgiving feast. As she spoke, from somewhere in the ether I heard the sound of a kung fu gong, and the phrase, When the student is ready, the master shall appear.
Anyone have any family-owned businesses they want to promote where folks can do some Christmas shopping? Feel free to leave links and recommendations in the comments.
There have been some rumblings about doing a local viewing party for Minor Revisions. It sounded like fun to me, but when I floated the idea to Joe, he regarded the entire thing with suspicion. “So, people are going to be there, and I’ll be there, and people will be watching me on the television, while I’m standing there…?” he asked with great concern. I pointed out that it’s kind of like having people come watch a presentation of your vacation photos, to which he said, “Exactly!” I think he’s softening to the idea. I’m going to keep working on him.