29 AugBon appetit!

Spin class, lunch at an Italian deli and then a matinee. Later tonight Quintessence for dinner then settle in for Indy Car under the lights. Kind of a perfect rainy day. But lets get back to the movie. I went to see Julie & Julia this afternoon sans my movie buddy because she heard it got bad reviews, and sans my husband because it falls under “not hot chick flick”. And I too almost didn’t go after it got bashed on Chelsea Lately. But with such vivid images of my mom at the dinning room table flipping through her well worn copy of Mastering the Art of French Cooking, and Julia Child on PBS coming through our television set, there was no way I would miss it. Not to mention the Julie part of the story was a blogger so that seemed interesting.

I wasn’t sure if the story would completely hold my attention since I don’t cook or write, but something told me there was a story in here I would like. As much as I appreciated the characters persistence, patience and ultimate success with their respective careers that wasn’t the story I walked away with. Rather, what kept my attention and even made me cry through almost the whole movie was their amazingly supportive husbands. Both of them.

I was practically bawling when Julie and her husband set up her blog together, tears rolling down my cheek when Julia’s husband bought her a mortar for Valentine’s Day and touched when he wrote to his brother that he sat in the kitchen so he could spend time with his wife. And when Julia’s husband told her she was the butter to my bread, the breath to my life I nearly lost it. I cried because their husbands were sounding boards, they were supportive even when others weren’t, they were their best friends and biggest fans. I cried because I am lucky enough to have all of those things with Tom and for that I am so thankful…and apparently a bit of a crybaby.