Deliberations Over Woody Allen

With so many changes happening at once, I've felt pretty small lately.  Not bad, just not as in control of things as I'd like be.  (Do you think I have a control problem?  I refuse to have a control problem.  Stop looking at me.  Say something already!)

That said, I'm old enough now to recognize that times like these are often the ones that supply the best results.  If I was in control of "things" during our first month of marriage, I'd have never had Fiona.  And that was the best non-decision I've ever non-made.*

• • •

Mr. White and I watched Manhattan Murder Mystery last night.  

There's a scene in it that cracks me up.  It's classic Woody Allen:

Diane Keaton wakes him up in the middle of the night, wanting to discuss how sure she is that their neighbor has murdered his wife.

Woody Allen delivers his signature, "Yer craaaa-zy!" and proceeds to compare her to a car that needs to go back to the manufacturer because it's been recalled.  Her response is equally distinctive as she stutters over his hysterical nasal whines.

But the part that makes me laugh, really laugh is when he says to her,

"I command you to go back to bed.  I command you!  As your husband, I command that you sleep!"

His attempts were all in vain, as she gets dressed to sneak into her neighbor's apartment.  His beady little eyes are just blinking through those magnified glasses.  He makes me so nervous, but oh, I love him.

In my movie, I guess Diane Keaton plays the role of my life?  And I'm Woody Allen? Too metaphysical?  Yes, I think so.  Regardless, that's what's great about Woody Allen movies.  They do make you feel better. "Um, ya know, less, uh, craaaa-zy."

*Note to self, delete this post when Fiona is old enough to check this blog.

Also helping lately?  Kitten in a Cup.