While in the midst of the polishing the new Tom Hickey novel, whatever I'm inspired to write about, unless it regards the novel or 1920s Los Angeles, I try to shelve. 

Hence, not many posts these days.

Last night Zoe and I watched Chinatown. Not the '20s, but close enough. Of course I had to send my little girl out of the room a few times, and get creative with certain explanations. 

Zoe's questions and observations entertained me nearly as much as the movie did. 

When, during a drought, Jake the detective follows Hollis Mulray to the coast and sits on a rocky cliff watching while Mulray observes water pour out of the storm drains, Zoe got scared for Jake because she saw a dinosaur hiding in the rocks. Which puts a great film into a whole new light.

We have a flexible one hour a day time limit on television watching. Zoe asked if movies counted the same as tv shows. I said if it's a good movie,  longer is okay.  I remarked that a half hour of Sponge Bob might be plenty, while two hours of Mary Poppins seems reasonable. 

Zoe said, "Yeah, because Sponge Bob shows us his underwear and Mary Poppins doesn't."

The moral: if you haven't got a seven-year-old to watch movies with, borrow one.