Gitchy Gitchy Gloomy Gloomy

I'm going to avoid looking out the window today. It's all grey and depressing out there.

Meanwhile Sullivan is watching The Snowman which is a silent, animated short about a little boy who has a magical adventure with a snowman that he made only to have the fucker melt at the end. It's a beautiful, whispy little film but stop with the melting already! I know WHY they made the story that way and, in theory, I totally agree. But I don't want to have to explain why Mommy gets all weepy every time she watches it.

I have troubles with that. I cry reading Shel Silverstein. I cry when the freaking Whos down in Whoville get together for their Who Christmas Sing. I can't watch anything in the Boy and His Dog genre. I haven't dared to watch The Fox and the Hound because, apparently, the viewing experience as a child was so traumatic that my family almost considered never letting me see a movie ever again. Aw, c'mon, talk about a heartbreaking tragedy when you are bred to hunt down your best friend. I just can't handle that kind of stuff. My heart breaks easily.

BUT, I have become the person you want around in a crisis. I can handle that. Small child bleeding from a head wound? Stand back and do what I say and everything will be just fine. Death in the family? Come to Momma. Falling into an abyss of despair? Take my hand, I may not know the way out but I can help you find someone who does.

Just don't make me read Where the Red Fern Grows, or I'll completely fall apart.