[Editor's Note: This picture has nothing to do with the topic of this post. We saw this sign on our way to dinner and it struck me as ridiculous and very funny. I simply had to share it with you.]
Don't you hate it when you get sucked into a movie based on a period of history, and you find yourself hoping for a better ending, even when you know what will happen? Let's look at, well, Titanic, as an example. We all knew what would happen, but we all kept hoping that the ship would just be able to turn to avoid that iceberg, right? Or hoping that the stewards would allow all the third-class passengers to the lifeboats in enough time; or that the nearest ship would arrive soon enough to save Jack. Well, of course, in watching the movie, you get involved in the story, but once that iceberg comes along, you think, "Damn, I know how this is going to end."
I had a similar experience tonight watching The Other Boleyn Girl. On the obvious side, I say, it's a movie, and who says that it has to follow history exactly. However, I knew that Anne Boleyn got decapitated, and that King Henry moved on to another wife who couldn't give him a son either. But even still, the end of the movie arrived and I had hope that, when the time came, the king would grant her a stay ... or that she'd be rescued somehow. I don't think I'm spoiling anything when I tell you that the movie stuck to the truth in that respect. Alas, I'm amused at myself for, even for a second, thinking that my memory was wrong, or that maybe "Hollywood" would make this a happier ending than we knew it had in real life. Oh well. At least Mary got away with her life, and ended up raising the future queen of England ... according to the movie anyway.
Shingles Watch: Day 8
I say, thank goodness this thing is slowly working its way out of my body. I'll admit to noticing more crusties on my bumps, which is good (if pretty gross, now that I re-read that sentence). What's weird though, is that my ear is sore. Sore like achy, not shooting pain, but achy pain. I'm still a bit itchy, too, but nothing so bad that it's really anything more than an irritation to me anymore. I'm liking the light at the end of the tunnel in all this, I must say, as I'm running out of photos of shingles (the roof kind).