FoodSexLit

This afternoon, as my sister Lizzy (studying for her CPA exam) and I (working on the memoir about marriage and madness) took a break from our day’s intellectual toil to prep for the two side dishes for tonight’s main course: grilled lamb, marinated in red wine, olive oil, and garlic.

As we chopped and chatted, “Dancing in Heaven” came on my iPod (thanks, Genius!) and we both started singing along as we chopped mint and zested orange (for a marinated cucumber salad) and sliced onions and red peppers (for a marinated chickpea salad.)  Thank you, Silver Palate.

In case you are interested, I have two versions of that song on my iPod: one by La Douche (seriously?  That was their name?) and one by The Modern Rock Players (“as made famous by Q-Feel,” apparently.)

I don’t know a woman between 21 and 34 (the difference between me and my baby sister, Caroline) who didn’t watch Girls Just Want to Have Fun at at least one slumber party during her prepubescent years.  Seriously, how great is that movie?  That part when she says to that whole classroom full of strangers, “I love to dance . . .”

One thing has always puzzled me about that movie, however: when she’s in the bathtub and there’s a phone call from the cute guy (tough, as he wears a leather jacket, but with a kind heart) who is now her dance partner– she gets out of the bathtub all soapy, covering herself with her bathrobe, and then somehow in the next shot, her bathrobe is perfectly dry?  Ah, Sarah Jessica Parker, you work miracles.

The impact SJP has made on my life is probably immeasurable, what with LA Story and  Honeymoon in Vegas, and while I was mad at her for about two years for marrying Matthew Broderick (I had my heart set on him for myself after watching Project X), I got over it.

Besides, who could not love SJP after that dance on the stage to both avenge Helen Hunt AND achieve her cherished life’s dream?  And all before her 21st birthday.

And of course, that moment in the season finale of Sex in the City in Paris when she wears that great ballgown and she’s all crumpled in a heap in the hotel lobby and then Mr. Big comes to rescue her . . . and just before, Charlotte has told him, “Go get our girl” (or maybe it’s Miranda . . .  no matter. I have chills just typing it.)   But even better is when we see her back in New York, walking into the coffee shop and her best friend are so excited to see her . . .

Seriously, tears are pricking my eyes right now.  That’s the power of SJP.

Anyway, Lizzy told me we have GJWTHF (on VHS, no less) in my parents’ family room.  After we watch the sun set over Alki as we finish our beautiful dinner, we are SO going to watch it.