Becca Wilhite Blog

June 29, 2013


Filed under: FIlms — becca @ 8:54 pm

Man of Steel.

I saw him. It. I saw it.

Husband “warned” me that there was some theoretical hotness. He doesn’t actually feel qualified to measure such things, but said there may be some shirtlessness and so forth. I explained to him (again) that for me, beautiful men on screen are just an exercise in Art Appreciation. I look, I enjoy, I may even comment. Art appreciation. That is what we have.

And I was appreciating some Superman art today.


(Did anyone else notice certain scenes in which Henry Cavill looks a lot like Christopher Reeve? I’m sure that was on purpose. Or a young, hotter-than-actual-history John Travolta? I think it’s the chin.)

I prefer the beard (which is totally out of character for me) and the messy hair (which is precisely up my alley).

Oh, and the movie was pretty good, too. Very non-subtle Christianity themes (win!). And lucky Superman getting Russell Crowe as Space Dad and Kevin Costner (on a farm! where his acting is nearly believable!) as Earth Dad. But way violent. Too much violent for my taste — exhausting fighting from my leaned-back theatre seat. Amy Adams was cute and perky and somehow believable as Lois. And hey — Lois worked as a name. Also, they told the story backward, which was a cool choice. I loved the end. A whole lot. (It wasn’t a surprise ending at all, just a perfect one for me.)

Also, did I mention? Throb.

June 25, 2013


Filed under: Where do I live? — becca @ 12:11 pm

I live in a little town in a mountain valley. It’s very lovely here, I tell you. Mountains out every window. At this moment, everything’s green and perfect — trees and plants and lawns sort of glimmer, and the hills have managed to keep enough of the scant water they got this winter to be stunning. And we have birds. One thing I missed when we moved here, lo these dozen years ago, was the bird noise. We moved into a new house with no landscaping in a neighborhood full of the same. But in the last years, our little stick trees have grown up into lovely yards, and we now have birds to populate them. Not all the birds are friendly — in fact, I wrote demon magpies into my last novel for a reason. (*Shudder*)

But what I’m finding more and more of, here in rural paradise, is pigeons. I’m told that across the valley there are old-timers who have kept pigeons for decades, training them to carry messages during wars or something. Which I guess might be illegal in some places. But these pigeons that hang out in my neighborhood are plentiful. Copious. And new-ish. A few years ago, I remember seeing a pigeon and thinking, “Huh, would you look at that. City birds. Wonder what they’re doing here?” Similar to the way that I thought about seagulls when I first migrated to Utah: “Seriously? Seagulls in Target parking lots? Where do they think they are? No ocean for hours and hours.” But now, the pigeons are EVERYWHERE. Ubiquitous pigeons. (Excellent band name, if anyone’s looking — feel free.) And they appear to have a plan.

The Pigeon Hostile Takeover plan seems to revolve around some awesome scare tactics, namely ghosting. See, the dove-like, owlish quality of the coo-ing sounds very spooky when it floats through an open window. But even better than that, these little birds, possibly too dumb to move off the sidewalk for a kid on a trike, are clever enough to waddle across a roofline until they come to the air intake pipe, the laundry vent, or the chimney. Then they put their twitchy little heads inside and moan.

For real.

They wail this forlorn little song into the home openings, waiting, I imagine, for the family to freak out to the extent that they give up and drive away, leaving a door open as an invitation to roost inside and please, please not follow them out of the valley.

If I see one of these abandoned neighbor houses, covered in guano and feathers, glowing with an eerie green light, I just might move out, too.

June 18, 2013

I forgot to tell you this thing.

Filed under: books — becca @ 10:24 am

Guys, I read a Book. It has a capital B, because it was really good. And long, and written with serious-brained readers in mind (you can just tell, get me?).

So I’m sure many of you have read it, because it got rather a lot of press this year, but here you go:

THE ORPHAN MASTER’S SON by Adam Johnson. It’s about things I don’t usually read about: North Korea, and soldiers, and psychological testing; and it’s about things I always read about: families and redemption and overcoming despair and Finding The Way. The psychology of it was incredible to me — the State Mentality (that’s not a real thing, probably — just my way of describing what happens when the government convinces people to feel and think and believe what It wants Them to feel and think and believe). ‘Twas a little language-y, but not overwhelmingly so (to me, but keep in mind: soldiers) and adult-theme-y, but really? So good.

I also read nonfiction. Twice in the last 3 months, which is a HUGE percentage of my reading in the last 3 months.

IN THE GARDEN OF BEASTS is about the American ambassador in Berlin during Hitler’s rise. And his daughter, an adult woman of the 40s who was, shall we say, very comfortable with her femininity and knew How To Use It. (*ahem*). And his wife, who, bless her heart, was not so much up for this European adventure as she thought she might be. And how it’s possible to be inside the very middle of something and not recognize it for what it is. Fascinating.


which reads very much like a novel — excellent voice, excellent story — about HeLa cells (long science-y explanations aside, the first human cells that labs could grow “forever” outside a human body), the woman they came from, the literal billions of dollars the biomedical industry has made through them, and the family who saw no money or even information about them or about their mother (and can’t afford health insurance).

And now… what are you reading? Anything impressing you?

June 12, 2013


Filed under: emotion,familyness — becca @ 7:25 am

My mom used to sing a song from Porgy and Bess: “Summertime, and the living is easy. Fish are jumping and the cotton is high. Your daddy’s rich and your ma is good looking, so hush, pretty baby, don’t you cry. One of these mornings you’re going to rise up singing. You’re going to spread your wings and take to the sky. But till that morning, there ain’t nothing can harm you with your daddy and mammy standing by.”

I love that song. I’ve sung it for auditions, sometimes accompanied by my dad on the guitar (okay, in fairness, it was more than 20 years ago the last time that happened, but still… it happened). And I was thinking about the sentiment. The peacefulness of the ideal summer, the plenty, and the promise of edges — a precipice just beyond the edge of what the singer can see, where the pretty baby spreads wings and flies away… into implied danger, yes, but FLIES AWAY. And who doesn’t want that? Even with the possibility of harm, there’s the promise of flight. And until that morning, you, pretty baby, are safe here in the protection of your wealthy and handsome parents.

That. All of that. It fills up my heart today. Thinking of my lovely mama, my pretty babies. The edges. Flying.

Happy summertime.

June 6, 2013

Whoa, Bessie.

Filed under: familyness,working out,writing — becca @ 8:41 am

I don’t know who Bessie is. Wait. I do. In “Philadelphia Story” George, the pretentious fiancee, says, “Whoa, Bessie,” to the horse he’s trying (failing) to ride. Over and over. Then he tells Dinah, the hilarious little sister, that he doesn’t know what’s gotten in to Bessie this morning. And she replies something about “maybe because his name is Jack.”

Perhaps I’m riding the wrong horse?

Nah. I’m good. Bessie and I are getting along fine over here. Life’s just riding away out from under us, if you know what I mean.

NO MORE METAPHORS. I promise. At least for a minute.

We are having a lovely, busy time. And it’s good. And I had a 400 word goal today, and I passed it. And I want to get to some more of that later today, if family goodness doesn’t get in the way. Because family goodness is the priority. Kids 2 and 3 are at girls’ camp. I plan to tackle Kid 3’s room. I’ve let it go way, way too long, and I’m going in. Kid 4 is daunted by this plan. He fails to see the family goodness in my cleaning his sister’s room plan. Fair enough. Maybe I’ll take him to the rope swing this afternoon.

Life happens and I like it that way. But I need to make sure I’m watching, and happening too.

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