"I cannot possibly handle another three hour Zoom conference call that includes terms like prosody and ameliorated," I grumbled, laying my head down on my folded arms. "Your study packet really helped with team morale last time," Katriel observed, "and Allison even finished her dot-to-dot before the first break." I perked up. Morale. THAT was the answer! "Let's try to keep the violence to a minimum this time," Katriel advised, "flinging a foam ball at Kim for answering all the questions might have been cathartic to you but may have inhibited her sense of welcomed inclusion in our on-line community."
Duly noted.
So, with the next Superintendent's Conference Day approaching, I pledged to make the best out of a bad situation, a la a snack buffet. Ingesting impossible-to-understand information regarding "inter-rater reliability" while nibbling on little nuggets of wisdom as we discern the differences between shallow and deep orthographies is a LOT easier to swallow when my reading table in laden with sweet and salty solace.
Naturally, my team let me down. "Bring a little snack to share," I had encouraged, envisioning bags of chips, Twizzlers, M&Ms, ect. But no-oo-oo...instead, we sported not ONE, but TWO crockpots, home-made baked deliciousness, and full-on submarine sandwiches. My table wasn't big enough to support the weight of our snack offerings. It was...the BEST...Superintendent's Conference Day EVER. Side-note: Turns out my sarcastic remarks are reduced by 65% or more when my mouth is happily occupied with chewing.
"Is this the great idea of which you were referring to in the introduction?" you wonder politely, as the arrival of snacks at any Amy-associated-event seems pretty standard (but seriously...you should have SEEN that spread...it would have made a Renaissance banquet table seem positively medieval). Wow. You really know me. The great idea of which I was referring to, arrived, with the faint streaks of dawn in the darkened sky of that Superintendent's Day as I was seeking out inspiration regarding an encouraging gif to send to my daughter who was scheduled for an interview. A dark, raspy voice in the back of my head had whispered, "Woo her. Charm her. Make her one of us." Perfect! Where do I know that from? And suddenly, as the horizon flickered to life, I tumbled down the dark hole that led me back to 1985. I returned to Legend. Gif abandoned, I sloughed through self-righteous reviews of people who obviously know NOTHING about quality cinema. What do Siskel and Ebert know, anyway?
Infuriated, I listened to the podcast "Why Rotten Tomatoes is So Wrong About Legend" on my five minute ride to work. Wait. Pump the brakes. Legend was a bad movie?!? "All flash and no flesh?!? Fantasy eye candy?!?" Can you hear me shrieking? I was stunned. I remembered Legend as a beautiful, magical movie. I picked up Katriel for our three minute commute where she is rarely allowed to talk. "What did you think of Legend?" I snapped at her as she attempted to crawl into my truck with her crock-pot of apple crisp. "I'm not sure how to answer this," she responded, rarely given an opportunity to add to our morning conversations and loathe to miss this rare moment. "You didn't like it?" I snarled, baring my teeth at her. "I've never seen it," she admitted, shrinking back against the door, wielding her crock-pot as a shield. I stared at her, stunned. And then, without a word, I stormed into the building to begin a room-by-room inventory of viewers who were as beguiled as I by the bobbly-horned unicorns and crooked teeth of Tom Cruise.
I had never felt so alone in my life.
But then I realized...
Great ideas are also born of great injustice.
It wasn't fair that so many have been denied the privilege of adding a well-rounded dark fantasy featuring Tim Curry (in the last 20 minutes), Tom Cruise's muscular thighs and unheard of gymnastic abilities (We couldn't even COUNT how many times he somersaulted in an impressive aerial flip), and more fun-facts than film to their viewing repertoire.
Yes. It was on this auspicious Superintendent's Conference Day that I would learn my greatest lesson yet...how to throw a Legend(ary) Party (at someone else's house without their knowledge or consent...thanks, Geri) based on a movie no one (under 25) had ever seen. I would also discover that the people I hang out with apparently have no lives (because they actually attended).
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