another day, another song......

ok, so ya gotta look in an alternative address, as teflon agnes doesn't care for my song picks........yeah, well...you probably have it already...but you never know......

1200 year old book found.....

ok, so this is big news...... Ireland’s National Museum said on Wednesday that a 1,200-year-old Book of Psalms found last week by a construction worker in a bog was so archaeologically significant that it could be called an “Irish equivalent to the Dead Sea Scrolls.”

Museum officials said it was remarkable both that the psalter had survived for so long in boggy terrain and that a construction worker had spotted it and halted a mechanical digger just in time to save it from destruction.

“In my wildest hopes, I could only have dreamed of a discovery as fragile and rare as this,” Patrick F. Wallace, the director of the National Museum in Dublin, said in a statement. “It testifies to the incredible richness of the early Christian civilization of this island.”

Aoife Demel, a spokeswoman for the museum, said in a telephone interview that several experts had examined the text and that there was no possibility that it was a hoax.

The museum said in a news release that “in discovery terms this Irish equivalent to the Dead Sea Scrolls is being hailed by the museum’s experts as the greatest find ever from a European bog.” The museum said it could not determine how the manuscript ended up in the bog. “It may have been lost in transit or dumped after a raid, possibly more than a thousand to twelve hundred years ago,” the news release said. Bernard Meehan, a manuscript expert at Trinity College, Dublin, said this was the first discovery of its kind in 200 years.

The manuscript, containing approximately 20 pages, was discovered last Thursday in the Irish Midlands when the construction worker noticed it while excavating for commercial potting soil. Museum officials declined to specify the bog’s location, explaining that archaeologists were still exploring the site.

The museum said that the bound pages had slipped outside the book’s wraparound cover, made of vellum or leather, and that the psalms were written directly on vellum and the book was found open at a page showing Psalm 83 in Latin.

In later English-language versions, Psalm 83 exhorts God to act against conspirator nations plotting to wipe out “the name of Israel.”

Raghnall O Floinn, who is in charge of collections at the museum, said each page of the document contained about 40 lines of script, with around 45 letters per line. “While part of Psalm 83 is legible, the extent to which other psalms or additional texts are preserved will only be determined by painstaking work by a team of invited experts, probably operating over a long time in the museum laboratory,” he said.

The estimated age of the manuscript would place it in the same early medieval period as the Book of Kells (circa A.D. 800), an illuminated manuscript of the Christian Gospels that is on public view in the Old Library at Trinity College, Dublin.

books, books, books......

ok, so....the books they are arriving.......such a wonderful thing...to open a package when one knows it is a book......but which book?......that is the question that lingers only as long as it takes to cut away the strapping tape that half.com sellers tend to orefer as binding for reused cardboard........today it is ken keesey's sometimes a great notion......i especially like late summer for book-buying......as there is never a question about such purchases......they are patently necessary...it is only the non-bookclub selections that beg the question......'just how many more books will it take to slide the house down into the lake.....?......we could be close, for all i know.....except that we did take a whopping load to the goodwill last summer......and i am pretty darn sure we haven't caught up volume-wise.......i just ordered a few more books...hoping to sneak through a few before the euphoria of book-club buying wears off.......don't tell..........

prayer cards

ok, so the wednesday night group at our (moderate) southern baptist church has sent our middle child prayer cards since he left oh so many weeks ago......sometimes they send one to us (the parents) as well......as so i must call them on friday morning to turn ff this goodwill......i was thinking of this during the sermon today, delivered by a graduate of the baptist seminary of kentucky...standing in for our vacationing pastor....she preached on esther, and her amazing act of faith.......i need you to take careful note of the she-part.......as moderate baptists are the only ones who honor god's call for all believers to witness in his name...this bsky graduate attended, and now works for a divinity school founded after the southern seminary in louisville kicked out all of the female professors...and started a campaign to direct all of the women's missionary groups in local churches by a male......our church's women's missionary group has thus far rebuffed such ludicris invasions of sovereignty........i was thinking about ann coulter during the sermon...she who claims that the left is godless.......and i was wondering about what her sunday school class thinks of her...drinking and smoking and sleeping about......i jest, of course.......ann coulter has no sunday school class....and could probably not name 3 of the 10 commendments.......just to be on top of things, i have studied up on exodus chapter 20.....and can name all 10 or 11, depending on how one reads the list........i am thoroughly amused that so many folks go into such tirades about how u.s. laws are based on the 10 commandments......ha......this document covers adultery, theft, murder, and coveting.....and not much else save honoring one's parents......and therefore i don't see many, if any legislators who have not broken 1 or more......coveting highlights a multitude of sins.....................but i digress from the prayer cards...it is very sweet that so any folks took time to pray for our son while he was away...............

sapphires and garlic......

ok, so...while it was hot and humid this afternoon i read sapphires and garlic, by ruth reichl about her stint as the nyt food critic......i am especially fond of a book that can be savored in one sitting....or at least between miserable bouts of weeding the area behind the heritage pink rose and up past the forsythia.....this task was best done in short spurts, with ample time to rehydrate and recover......and reading about a food critic dressing up as alter egos was just what i needed....and the food she ate while she was undercover....oh my.......the poor woman ate out 12 times a week, on the company dime......luckily for her she was well-versed in fine food.....could guess all the secret ingredients.....and had a cozy writing style........she has since moved on to gourmet magazine, which i dropped in favor of saveur...because every article seemed to be the same......ah well......i did enjoy her book.............

ok, so......

ok, so...just this moment i could hear jane kazmarik (sp)...the mean mamma on malcom in the middle screaming her head off, as she does numerous times during the show's airtime.....and i marched out to the back room to inquire, ever so diplomatically, why she gets to scream.......as much as she wants....and when i scream it can only mean i have anger issues?........and though she hasn't managed to win an emmy for this feat.....the milktoast mamma on everybodylovesraymond has had the dubious distinction for many years now...go figure.........jane k. is such a fine example was the kind of mamma that all of us really would be if we had our druthers........bold, brash, loud, unorganized yet on top of most things.......i just love her....or at least the woman she plays on t.v.........i could earn a thing or two about child-rearing from jane............

muggy

ok, so the outside climate can only be described as muggy...that ultra-humid level of warmth that preceeds a storm...or not....as the current weekend attests........not ideal conditions for outdoor work.....so let's look at other spots about the globe.......it is a delightful 66 degrees in moscow as we speak......a bit overcast, but i hope nobody is complaining.....in roan mountain, tn where we will be next week at this time it is 78 ...again not bad, but 8 degrees warmer than yesterday, according to cnn weather........at sunday school the conversation turned to 1)picking up stephan and 2) our hiking trip.....at which time a good friend related her recent experience with a bear while hiking in north carolina, not far from our destination.......ouch....bears never occured to me....note to self- research correct reaction to a bear on the trail........the 5 day forecast puts us driving to cincinnati on wednesday evening in thunderstorms.....which may or may not clear by the time the plane is set to touch down on thursday......granted, 5 day forecasts are forecast to be proved wrong...moreso than right.....the last time i checked a 5 day forecast i was informed that it was to rain all day yesterday........which couldn't have been more wrong......maybe i'd be better off with a nice nap during the afternoon (peak sultry hours....) which may just rejuvenate my aging bones for intense weeding after the sun goes down...say 7-8:30 pm........sounds like a grand forecast to me............

when you wake up feeling old......

ok, so.....the morning after a day of heavy labor is humbling.......one wishes that one had stretched before all of the bending, tugging, lifting.....and put on sunscreen....the work took place under cover of the canopy that s the mulberry tree......and a sunburn in the shade never crossed my mind.......not that the shade was cool.....so sireeee......the humidity was oppressive.....lots of progress made......cleared out the old and dead from the entire stretch.......knarled redbud to the gate......and mulched an entire truckload of......mulch......and moved hosta from an overcrowded existence to a spot surrounding the locust tree......the effect is lovely, i must say......but as i sat on the red chair on the walk up near the hydrangea.......all i could think about was how achey/brakey my body feels this morning, and how i could have managed the afternoon better........given that there was an able-bodied 13 year old at home.....in the house while i worked outside.......and the basic question must apparantly be addressed each and every saturday.......exactly what work must be done before play.......there are some who stumble down to breakfast around 9:45.....and rush through vacumning and a load of laundry started....and see the time after....say 10:45 as playtime...no matter that i end up finishing up said laundry at some point to expedite my own loads......but on this day i had made an effort to give greater direction for chores that could be done while i worked in the yard.......like laundering sheets and towels...and folding them and putting them away ...remaking her own bed...picking up her room...chore directives that were poorly received, to say the least...and done intermittently, given that every time i came into the house to cool off the television was on and she was laying (lying?) upon the sofa........and after about 5 hours of labor, when the mulch was clinging to my being like chocolate frosting.......my youngest bolted from the door, announcing that she was all done and was going up the road to play with the neighbor's dogs.....gentle readers......when a child has time to play with dogs that are not her own, she was time to help with outdoor chores.......and so it was begrudgingly that the project was finished with 2 sets of hands.....so far so good....until i showered and settled in to finishing up my own saturday chores.......only to discover that a load of laundry i had put in the dryer early on had been been unceremoniously tossed into a basket, unfolded....and was now congealed into a mass of wrinkles......gentle readers...there are few things that really get my riled up......and thoughtless attention to the property of others is one of them.....especially given that i routinely fold any load of laundry i remove from the dryer....it is the polite thing to do......and the notion that i my child could lay (lie) upon the couch yet not find the strength to fold a few pairs of pants for her hard-working parent brought out the worst in me.....and i screamed at her......loud enough that my spouse came down from 2 floors above to find out what was wrong.......i suppose when one doesn't normally scream.....a brief tirade has greater dramatic impact.......in this case my daughter fell into hysterical sobs........ a scene right out of a dysfunctional family novel.......i have few memories of being brought beyond the raised voice phase when the boys were small......but this younger child has evoked such scenes at least 6 times that i can recall........mostly with regards to my other pet peave....that of truthfullness........and so the question has been begged.....do i have anger management issues...or do i just need to manage the particulars to prevent the scenes in the first place.....or simply have my hormones adjusted.......i don't know.....what i do know is that i do not sleep well after a such altercations....which makes my current state even more pitiable........feeling old both mentally and physically.......blogging the details is somewhat cathartic, but not was soothing as a nap or a warm bath might be.......maybe there are support groups for meanmammas who scream......i might feel better if i knew that other women react in the same manner when tired and overworked while others lounge about.......

poetry.......

ok, so i liked this poem, as reprinted with fondness rather than permission from writer's almanac.......

"Creed" by Meg Kearney from An Unkindness of Ravens. © BOA Editions, Rochester, New York, 2001.

Creed

I believe the chicken before the egg
though I believe in the egg. I believe
eating is a form of touch carried
to the bitter end; I believe chocolate
is good for you; I believe I'm a lefty
in a right-handed world, which does not
make me gauche, or abnormal, or sinister.
I believe "normal" is just a cycle on
the washing machine; I believe the touch
of hands has the power to heal, though
nothing will ever fill this immeasurable
hole in the center of my chest. I believe
in kissing; I believe in mail; I believe
in salt over the shoulder, a watched
pot never boils, and if I sit by my
mailbox waiting for the letter I want
it will never arrive—not because of
superstition, but because that's not
how life works. I believe in work:
phone calls, typing, multiplying,
black coffee, write write write, dig
dig dig, sweep sweep. I believe in
a slow, tortuous sweep of tongue
down the lover's belly; I believe I've
been swept off my feet more than once
and it's a good idea not to name names.
Digging for names is part of my work,
but that's a different poem. I believe
there's a difference between men and
women and I thank God for it. I believe
in God, and if you hold the door
and carry my books, I'll be sure to ask
for your name. What is your name? Do
you believe in ghosts? I believe
the morning my father died I heard him
whistling "Danny Boy" in the bathroom,
and a week later saw him standing in
the living room with a suitcase in his
hand. We never got to say good-bye, he
said, and I said I don't believe in
good-byes. I believe that's why I have
this hole in my chest; sometimes it's
rabid; sometimes it's incoherent. I
believe I'll survive. I believe that
"early to bed and early to rise" is
a boring way to live. I believe good
poets borrow, great poets steal, and
if only we'd stop trying to be happy
we could have a pretty good time. I
believe time doesn't heal all wounds;
I believe in getting flowers for no
reason; I believe "Give a Hoot, Don't
Pollute," "Reading is Fundamental,"
Yankee Stadium belongs in the Bronx,
and the best bagels in New York are
boiled and baked on the corner of First
and 21st. I believe in Santa
Claus, Jimmy Stewart, ZuZu's petals,
Arbor Day, and that ugly baby I keep
dreaming about—she lives inside me
opening and closing her wide mouth.
I believe she will never taste her
mother's milk; she will never be
beautiful; she will always wonder what
it's like to be born; and if you hold
your hand right here—touch me right
here, as if this is all that matters,
this is all you ever wanted, I believe
something might move inside me,
and it would be more than I could stand.

murder kitty......

ok, so this is a piece from npr that ran this afternoon after the downpour......about a last student of the austrian composer Schoenberg, who died in her 80's this week....the woman, whose name was dika......was also into the richmond, punk scene.......and composed her own alternative compositions...the one at the end of this interview finds her impersonating her cat as she plays.......shubert...murder kitty, not to be confused with an earlier piece...murder city......and her 'cat' meows along....i laughed joyously........this was not to be the only feline story on npr this day.......the other involves a cat named matilda.....who is the hotel cat at the algonquin in nyc.......seems this hotel, notable for the round table of brainiacs including dorothy parker....had a tradition of harboring a cat in the lobby, with its own chaise.......gentle readers...take the time to listen to murder kitty and read about matilda.......thanks so much.......

rejected comments.....

ok, so the mm will admit to rejecting and deleting a few comments....now and again....curiously....such commenters seem especially piqued with my way of denoting pauses.........with periods....(excepting the idiot who berated me for misspelling jane austen....and then misspelled it herself in her comment space.....).....such a plethora of periods must bring out the worst in some who are not used to my style of blogging......the last entry, with it's comment about my editorial idiosyncrasies was evocative.......the bumbling blogger took time to misspell the very word he/she targeted for shame.......and so i feel as though i must take the biblical high-road here......wwjd?.........for starts.......j. would never have misspelled his comments on misspelling.......didn't he say that he/she who is without sin should throw the first stone?........and then there are the pauses.........as a sunday school teacher with at least 18 years of study under her belt.......i can honestly say that the bible implies breaks and pauses by the use of verses........i suppose i could take the biblical high road and start using verse delineations rather than periods......but it would seem so very foolish and.....ralph reed-like.....and heaven sakes i do not want to take that path............i prefer to think that when the blogger-style book is revised.......all of god's bloggers will use periods to show pauses........

colbert report.....

ok, so....it is not like i haven't anything better to do.....i actually put in 1.5 hours of after-hours consulting......i arrived home with the pavement steaming from the downpour........and concluded that outdoor labor was out of the question.....and took to perusing my favorite sites.......all of which had colbert clips from youtube......wonkette/crooksandliars/smokinggun/gawker........i especially enjoyed the delegate from d.c.....an older black woman who took colbert to task because he doesn't pronounce the 't'...and asked him what part of paris he was from....all this in response to colbert asking her why she doesn't get to vote in the house, even though she is a delegate (d.c. isn't technically part of the united states......).....she was brilliant as a sparring partner for colbert....of course....earlier in the week we had the word on ralph reed.....which i played for my spouse after he heard my bellowing guffaws.......that has to be one of colbert's best pieces.....aside from his roast of dubya.....who is probably still swirling the evening around in his mind....seeking clarity......and then the wexler piece......how funny....and the guy who tried to put through legislation requiring the 10 commandments be posted in congress....who could not recite even one.......precious..........yeah, yeah...the sun has come out....but wet bricks still hide wet dirt....and that would be just too messy for this late hour.....better wait til morning to do anymore physical work........

red square

ok, so in my dreams last evening......my middle child calls me 'from a little cafe off of red square'...because he was feeling celebratory.......but i am also in red square...on a telephone with a cord.....that i must continually adjust and move aside for passersby, which includes a woman in a babashka.......which is where the story gets curious....as dreams always do....the woman is carrying a single boot......why?...where is the other boot?......that si when the dog started in an unusually minimalistic round of crying.....at the time i mamaged to grap my body out of the bed he had given up, and gone back to bed himself......i had to wake him up to let him outside......speaking of dragging out of bed.......we are on the last legs of the walk project...in the front yard....which begs the question....should i go ahead and do some brickwork in back because i have the time to do so?.......at least in front fo the fishpond.....and while i am at it....i could go ahead and replace the fishpond pump......fishpond is nto accurate, in that there are no fish....but there are also no lilies, and so i cannot call it a lilypond......there are some frogs......but frogpond doesn't sound quite as quaint......if it rains, all bets are off.....i'll just crawl back into bed in hopes of answers to the burning boot questions.......

say it isn't so.......

ok, so there are not words to express the sadness i would feel if this allegation proved to be true........i keep out a thread of hope that test tube b will be negative......

the right cannot have it both ways.....

ok, so.....the senate passed a restrictive 'child protection bill'........which means that no one but a parent may transport a child across state lines for an abortion under burden of jail time...not grandma...not an older sister...it must be a parent.....we trust only parents under this administration......unless we disagree with parents....as in the caseof the 16 year old with hodgkins disease who desires to withdraw treatment...the united states has gone to court to force the parents to make this child accept chemo treatments......even though this is an administration that believes that the family is the core to all things good and holy.....luckily, a higher court has ruled that the parents have the final say in this matter.......in the end...the supremes will have to weigh in........and the family may be in jeopardy in the newly right-leaning court.......life (as science calls it) versus parents....who'd thought it would come to this.......curious how the right see can skew every last view and still sleep at night.......

garrison.....

ok, so i blatantly copied this entire piece into my blog from salon so y'all would'nt have to watch the damned commercial.......garrison is always worth the rsk.....

http://www.salon.com/opinion/feature/2006/07/26/keillor/print.html

Heatstroke
Temperatures in the 100s can melt the brain of any well-meaning columnist, prompting fevered rantings about ice fishing and iced tea.

By Garrison Keillor

Jul. 26, 2006 | I had meant to take up the Middle East today, but my analytical powers have wilted in the heat, and it is all I can do to get the recycling out to the curb and take the car in for an oil change. And now I'm all caught up in the question of what color sheets to buy. Flowered pattern vs. white. Thread count, etc. Usually my wife handles this, and I devote myself to larger matters, the coming crisis in healthcare, that sort of thing, but the heat wave throws everything off.

Cold weather stimulates a man. A little-known fact. The temperature drops and snow falls and men feel the primal urge to hurl themselves into the teeth of the storm and rescue the livestock, but after a week of temperatures in the 100s those same men become fascinated with fabrics and window treatments and recipes involving fava beans and minced scallions. A man who on a bitterly cold day would squat on the ice and fish through a hole now is wearing yellow shorts and flip-flops with rhinestones on the straps, and preparing a salad with endive and sliced pear and walnuts and gorgonzola, and when his wife puts her arms around him and blows in his ear, he thinks, "What is that supposed to mean?"

The rise in homosexuality coincided with global warming. Look it up. Back when winter was winter, gay guys lived in Key West and New Orleans and Santa Monica. They like to show off their legs and keep tan, that's why. It's a proven fact. Warming trends enabled the tribe to move into Massachusetts. The way to fend off gay marriage is to reduce carbon emissions. And also to reverse the flow of people to the Southwest.

Retirees head for the Arizona desert, and before you know it, you've got old coots in love relationships who, had they remained in Minnesota, would've sat in the Legion club drinking bourbon and Seven and griped about the cold and kept their hands off each other.

Northern blue states get less government spending than Southern reds. The more people receive from the government, the more anti-government they become. You have to wonder if some of that Southern Republican crankiness isn't the result of confusion about sexual orientation. Why so fixated on gays and gay marriage, if not because you're spending a lot of time on personal grooming and shopping for throw rugs and accent pieces, and you need to fend off the suspicions of your supporters?

And what is one to think of the Current Occupant spending his August break in Texas? Does his speech sound more sibilant these days? I am only asking a question. This is not meant to be negative in any way. It's not enough to outlaw gay marriage. We need to beat back the lavender tide by paying Americans to live in the Northern low-gay tier of states, a frost subsidy of, say, $10,000 per year. Plus generous disaster benefits for blizzards and cold snaps. If we give blizzards names (Astrid, Bjorn, Christina, Dagmar) and plump up the casualty list with the week's coronaries and get good TV coverage (sideways-blowing snow, people hunkered down at bus stops, raggedy girls selling matches on street corners), we could get FEMA to slip us a few billion. Grow North Dakota and gay rates go down. It's a fact.

There are no drag queens in International Falls. Maybe in Duluth, but not that many. I was in Alaska recently and was pleased to notice so many manly women, women who feel good about themselves in Carhartt shirts and overalls and hiking boots, no jewelry or doodads, no moisturizing lotion. Tall gals with a long stride and a sure hand with an ax. They weren't all that interested in me, but hey, I'm OK with that.

Wait a minute. Be right back.

Tick tick tick tick tick tick tick tick tick tick tick tick tick tick.

OK, I'm back, with a cool drink. Iced mint tea. Hot days have been easier for me since I put away the gin bottle and took up tea. With gin you were likely to get weepy after a while and drape your arm around your pal and sing "In My Life" in a high trembly voice, but with tea you just soldier on and do what you need to do. And what I need to do is decide about sheets. I have a secret fondness for Marimekko, but I don't think the wife will go for it. So I guess it's going to be white. What were we talking about?

- - - - - - - - - - - -

(Garrison Keillor's "A Prairie Home Companion" can be heard Saturday nights on public radio stations across the country.)

(C) 2006 By Garrison Keillor. All rights reserved. Distributed by Tribune Media Services, Inc.

-- By Garrison Keillor
Salon Media Group, Inc
101 Spear Street, Suite 203
San Francisco, CA 94105
Telephone 415 645-9200
Fax 415 645-9204


Copyright ©2006 Salon Media Group, Inc. Reproduction of material from any Salon pages without written permission is strictly prohibited. SALON® is registered in the U.S. Patent and Trademark Office as a trademark of Salon Media Group Inc.

intermediate occupations.....

ok, so for the brilliant yet not fully employed foloks in my aquaintance.....this is yet another article for you.........again, this is salon and you might just have to waste 15 seconds watching mindless drivle commercials to get to link........i am so sorry.....

headphones.......

ok, so i finally got around to investing in headphones to wear when i listen to my music a lunch at work....today i walked through the halls for 15 minutes (i walked 15 minutes earlier outside on a break and it was too hot for a repeat......) at lunch.....and i carried my palm....and though it doesn't pump out the sound it was loud enough to distract the only other coworker in the building...who kept asking what i was listening to......and there are just somethings that cannot be explained to some folks.......at least amongst the barry manilow crowd.......which reminds me...i started a list of tunes i want to delete so i will have room for my latest downloads......must do that this evening......

ok, so.....i have heard it all now.......this from the web........the likeness of the two-month-old - already dubbed "the world's most famous baby" - was unveiled at the New York branch of the world famous museums today.

According to Madame Tussauds, the waxwork had her mother's "signature pouty lips and delicate features" and "would be displayed in an "African-themed nursery".

Likenesses of Shiloh's parents, Angelina Jolie and Brad Pitt, stand overlooking the model.

For a small fee, visitors to the attraction would also be allowed to pose with the famous family - minus the couple's adopted children, Maddox, 4, and 17-month-old Zahara - and have their pictures taken.

$1 from the cost of each picture taken will be donated to UNICEF.  

intense conversation.....

ok, so i came upon an intense conversation this morning upon arriving at work........debate over the war(s) in the middle east?......no......discussion over the audactiy of the senate to label an abortion-control bill as child protective....nope.......the discourse was about.....the beauty pageants last night at the local fair......seems that numerous of my workmates beat a path to the fairgrounds to be on hand for the first event....the little mister and miss m.c. fair...or maybe it was the tiny mister and miss....or both.....or maybe the term junior was there somewhere......but the words were heated....as aunts/grandparents and the like debriefed on how their kin was robbed....i tell you robbed....of the title.....which led yet another workmate, mother to a photogenic toddler, to rue that her mother was taking her boy to the baby contest this evening 'whether i like it or not'......last year she entered her baby in the contest (for his age group)...and he lost....and she admitted to being quite upset that the baby who won was not as cute as her boy....'i decided then i wouldn't do it again'....and here my own mamma is going to take him.....i might as well go, too........'.......most amusing was the part about how the judges were unfair in the competition...'they asked each contestant a different question, so they couldn't copy or prepare ahead......hmmm......seems they asked one child to name his favorite cartoon character, and another one his favorite food...the nerve!!!......and the neice who wou;dn't answer the question at all because she is shy didn't win, and it was so unfair because she is so adorable.......omg.......i came really close to asking sweetly about the pageant garb....but didn't want to appear too interested for fear i would be subjected to the photographic evidence when the film gets back from the cvs........on the other hand...i cannot wait to see this film about a dysfunctional family driving cross-country to get the little one to a beauty contest...this film stars many of my faves.....toni collete, greg kinnear....ought to be delicious.........the link is from salon.com...which may require you to watch a 10 second commercial...please bear with the world of commerce.......