Apparently two billion people tuned in to watch the wedding of Prince William and Kate Middleton this morning. I was one of them (if they count the re-broadcast on TLC), mostly because I was recovering from a nasty stomach bug and didn’t feel like much besides guilty pleasure TV-viewing, and also because I thought it would be weird that I got up at the crack of dawn to watch Princess Diana’s funeral for a glimpse of William but didn’t watch him get married. My affections for the dashing Prince have obviously waned considerably since I was willing to settle for the prerecorded version of the nuptials instead of watching His Royal Highness in real time. Maybe I get back a few points for proceeding to watch all-day news coverage of the wedding, including Oprah’s Royal Wedding Party?

(Erm, possibly not for the Oprah thing; after all, she did describe some aspect of the wedding as being “on spot,” while her British correspondent nodded and smiled in a very British way that seemed polite but clearly said Oprah is a gigantic poser.)

On the subject of the incredible amount of media attention given to the wedding, a lot of people have griped or just goggled about why Americans, in particular, care so much about some other country’s future king’s wedding. We did, after all, fight a long war for independence from said country because we weren’t too keen on their monarch.  I snarked on Facebook about the ridiculous wedding merchandise marketed to Americans, notably, a positively ghastly Kate Middleton figurine collection, but other than that the media glut didn’t really bother me. In fact, I thought speculation about Kate’s gown was a rather pleasant distraction from recent headlines of wars, economic recession, earthquakes, tsunamis, wildfires, and tornadoes. Others, understandably, including Brian Williams and the NBC Nightly News, thought it was inappropriate to give so much attention to something as frivolous as a royal wedding when there’s so much trouble in the world right now.

But as the wedding unfolded and the media voices fell silent, I became absorbed in the magnificence of Westminster Abbey and the transcendent songs of the choir and the solemn tradition of the ceremony itself and wondered if two billion people weren’t drawn to this for a reason that runs much deeper than a bit of pleasant distraction.

My favorite scene in the Harry Potter books takes place in the Hogwarts infirmary after the Death Eaters break into Hogwarts and–SPOILER ALERT!–Snape kills Dumbledore . The Order of the Phoenix are gathered around the bedside of Bill Weasley, whose face got eaten by a werewolf during the battle, and everyone expects Bill’s seemingly shallow fiancée Fleur Delacour to call off the wedding because of his disfigurement. Only Fleur surprises everybody by saying she loves Bill more than ever now, which prompts an outburst from Nymphadora Tonks who has, apparently, been involved in a tumultuous relationship with Remus Lupin who won’t marry her because he’s a werewolf and that makes him “too old, too poor…too dangerous” for her. But Tonks disagrees, and wants to hash it out with Remus right then and there. He responds, “This is…not the moment to discuss it. Dumbledore is dead…” And then, surprise of all surprises, Professor McGonagall dresses him down: “Dumbledore would have been happier than anybody to think that there was a little more love in the world.”

Because isn’t love what it’s all about? The root of everything we fight against, everything we fight for–nature, politics, evil–is love. Family. Marriage. Without that, the human race can’t survive. And not just in a reproductive sense, though that’s certainly part of the biological drive to love. But our emotional survival is just as crucial, and humans aren’t solitary creatures. We need someone to love and to cherish, to have and to hold, for better or for worse, for rich or for poor, in sickness and in health till death do us part.

That’s why, when the world is burning up and blowing away all around us, two billion of us turn our televisions to watch some other country’s future king’s wedding. Because we need a little more love in the world.

(And also very beautiful dresses and very bad hats.)

Back in 2002, Robin Williams made us all a little leery of the drugstore lab techs who develop our pictures and get a glimpse of our personal lives. Or at least the idea of a lonely, unbalanced Walmart photo center becoming obsessed with a customer through her family pictures made me think twice about getting my photos developed after I saw One Hour Photo. Fortunately I was a college student at the time and couldn’t afford to get pictures developed, and shortly thereafter dawned the age of digital photography and home laser printers, so I was able to put those horror flick-induced fears behind me; One Hour Photo was soon pushed to the back recesses of my mind where movies I didn’t like very much go to be forgotten…

…until today, when I walked into my neighborhood CVS to pick up a few prints.

I was carrying the Burt Squirt, and the rather trollish woman behind the counter saw us as she rang up a customer and made me jump by shouting, “I know that baby!”

At first (because, as I said, I hadn’t thought about One Hour Photo in years) I thought she was referring to the fact that we’re regular customers. I discovered this wasn’t the case when she said, “Oh my gawd, that picture! The one on the playground, with the monkey bars–that is the cutest picture I’ve ever seen! And I see a lot of baby pictures in here!”

Suddenly visions of a psychotic Robin Williams were dancing in my head. My heartbeat quickened–this person not only had seen the Burt Squirt’s pictures, she had my phone number, my address…she was going to to come steal my child–

“I have eight grandchildren,” her nasally tones that sounded uncannily like Roseanne’s interrupted my panicked internal monologue, “so I know about cute kids! You should send that picture to a magazine!”

She was so busy talking up the Burt Squirt’s picture to her customer that she didn’t notice the huge sigh of relief I heaved. Of course, contrary to what the movies would have us believe, most people who work in drugstores are not lonely and unhinged and suffering from delusions of being adopted into the families whose pictures they develop. For most people, developing pictures is just a job.

A job some people are very good at; after telling me how cute my kid was, I was putty in her hands when she asked me if I’d like to buy some picture frames for a dollar apiece.

Why, yes, I will take three, please.

Saw this floating around the blogosphere in honor of World Book Day 2011 (not related to the encyclopedia) and thought it would make a fun, quick post for a Friday night.

The book I am reading: The White Queen by Philippa Gregory, and my feelings about it are mixed. The story is interesting, a page-turner, as her books always are, but the writing quality fluctuates, and so far the characters aren’t gripping me quite like the ones in The Other Boleyn Girl and The Boleyn Inheritance.

Technically I’m also reading Cordelia’s Honor by Lois McMaster Bujold, whose Chalion fantasy series I adored, but I’ve temporarily abandoned it because I got a bit bogged down in space politics after having only recently finished reading all the Orson Scott Card books. I really like the characters, though, so I’m sure I’ll be back to it once I’ve had enough of a fix in a different genre.

The book I am writing: Still Songs for Piano and Voice, which has received the attention of an editor whose critique confirmed most of my suspicions about bits that still need work and provided insight into potential marketing issues to work around. I’m excited to get back to work on it and whip it into shape; if only the Burt Squirt would cooperate by taking longer naps!

The book I love most: Anne of Green Gables, without question. My copy is falling apart, and every time I read it, I still laugh out loud. The warm fuzzies I come away with aren’t just from the oh-so-endearing characters, but also the nostalgia of reading it with my mom when I was eight and laid up with a broken arm, and of my friend Susan and me acting out Anne with our Barbies.

The last book I received as a gift: My brother gave me Housekeeping by Marilynne Robinson for Christmas. I read a couple of chapters, but I had a hard time getting into it because so far it’s just the narrator talking about her grandfather and not giving me a good feel for who she is. I’ll probably pick it up again sometime, when I’m in a more literary frame of mind (and have had more sleep).

It’s time to make your Oscar predictions! Who do you think will win tonight? Who do you think should win? Who is most likely to create an upset? Who do you think should have been nominated that was snubbed? Any lingering ghosts of Oscars past? Think Titanic was the biggest ship trainwreck in Oscar history? Want to debate whether Shakespeare in Love really deserved top honors over Saving Private Ryan back in ’99? (Yes, it did.) Here’s the place for any and all Oscar chatter!

Now, let’s see just how phenomenal my cosmic powers are…

Best Picture

• 127 Hours
  
• Black Swan
  
• The Fighter
  
• Inception
  
• The Kids Are All Right
  
• The King’s Speech
  
• The Social Network
  
• Toy Story 3
  
• True Grit
  
• Winter’s Bone

Will Win: The King’s Speech
Should Win: The King’s Speech
Most Likely to Upset: The Social Network

Best Actor

• Javier Bardem for Biutiful
• Jeff Bridges for True Grit
• Jesse Eisenberg for The Social Network
• Colin Firth for The King’s Speech
• James Franco for 127 Hours

Will Win: Colin Firth
Should Win: Colin Firth

Best Actress

• Annette Bening for The Kids Are All Right
• Nicole Kidman for Rabbit Hole
• Jennifer Lawrence for Winter’s Bone
• Natalie Portman for Black Swan
• Michelle Williams for Blue Valentine

Will Win: Natalie Portman
Should Win: Natalie Portman
Random Besmirchiness: Did anyone besides me find Annette Bening’s character in The Kids Are All Right to be completely unlikeable even though you were supposed to feel for her?
Also: What the heck is Rabbit Hole? I know Oscar is notorious for nominating movies that never hit the mainstream, but it’s strange that a star as big as Nicole Kidman could garner a nod for a film that flew completely under the radar.

Best Supporting Actor

• Christian Bale for The Fighter
• John Hawkes for Winter’s Bone
• Jeremy Renner for The Town
• Mark Ruffalo for The Kids Are All Right
• Geoffrey Rush for The King’s Speech
  

Will Win: Christian Bale
Should Win: Christian Bale
Most Likely to Upset: Geoffrey Rush
Biggest Snub: Matt Damon‘s Skeezy Mustache for True Grit

Best Supporting Actress

• Amy Adams for The Fighter
• Helena Bonham Carter for The King’s Speech
• Melissa Leo for The Fighter
• Hailee Steinfeld for True Grit
• Jacki Weaver for Animal Kingdom

Will Win: Melissa Leo, because she won the Golden Globe and the SAG.
Should Win: Hailee Steinfeld, because she had such a long script to memorize due to there not being any contractions in it. (Also, she made me care far more about her character than I did about any of the others.
Most Likely Upset: Helena Bonham Carter, because she won the BAFTA.

Best Director

• Darren Aronofsky for Black Swan
• Ethan Coen, Joel Coen for True Grit
• David Fincher for The Social Network
• Tom Hooper for The King’s Speech
• David O. Russell for The Fighter

Will Win: David Fincher, as a consolation prize for The Social Network.
Should Win: Christopher Nolan for Inception. Biggest snub of this year.
Most Likely Upset: Tom Hooper, because this year’s Oscars are pretty much a deathmatch between The King’s Speech and The Social Network.

Best Original Screenplay

• Another Year: Mike Leigh
• The Fighter: Scott Silver, Paul Tamasy, Eric Johnson, Keith Dorrington
• Inception: Christopher Nolan
• The Kids Are All Right: Lisa Cholodenko, Stuart Blumberg
• The King’s Speech: David Seidler

Will Win: David Seidler for The King’s Speech, because Best Picture usually wins screenplay or director, if not both, and The Social Network will take director.
Should Win: Christopher Nolan, because the most difficult script to write is the one that must build an entire world. He is the architect.
Most Likely Upset: Lisa Cholodenko and Stuart Blumberg, because the Academy wants to give something to The Kids Are All Right.

Best Adapted Screenplay

• 127 Hours: Danny Boyle, Simon Beaufoy
• The Social Network: Aaron Sorkin
• Toy Story 3: Michael Arndt, John Lasseter, Andrew Stanton, Lee Unkrich
• True Grit: Joel Coen, Ethan Coen
• Winter’s Bone: Debra Granik, Anne Rosellini

Will Win: Aaron Sorkin
Should Win: The Coen Brothers
Most Likely Upset: Toy Story 3, because the Academy wants to honor the entire Toy Story trilogy with one of the major awards.
Random Snark: When did they stop calling this award by the more concise title “Best Adapted Screenplay”? How do they fit the new title– “Best Writing, Screenplay Based on Material Previously Produced or Published”–on the statuette?

Best Animated Film

• How to Train Your Dragon
• The Illusionist
• Toy Story 3

Will Win: Toy Story 3
Should Win: How to Train Your Dragon

Best Cinematography

• Black Swan: Matthew Libatique
• Inception: Wally Pfister
• The King’s Speech: Danny Cohen
• The Social Network: Jeff Cronenweth
• True Grit: Roger Deakins

Will Win: Inception
Should Win: Inception

Best Score

• 127 Hours: A.R. Rahman
• How to Train Your Dragon: John Powell
• Inception: Hans Zimmer
• The King’s Speech: Alexandre Desplat
• The Social Network: Trent Reznor, Atticus Ross

Will Win: I don’t know–Oscar often flummoxes me here.
Should Win: How to Train Your Dragon

Here end my predictions; I’ve omitted most of the technical categories because I really don’t know enough about them (as if I’m an expert on the categories on which I have opined!) or care enough to judge.

While browsing Walmart’s Valentine card selection the other day, I kept coming across variations on a theme: “They say that the longer a couple stays together, the more they start to look alike. Good thing we’re both so good looking!” Apart from the fact that this trope is not particularly funny, I eschew cards emblazoned with it because it’s simply not true of Mr. Burt and me. (Though, come to think of it, I do wear a lot more t-shirts and hoodies than I did when I met him eight years ago…)

Now, if there were cards that said, “They say that the longer a couple stays together, the more they start to think alike. Good thing we’re both so exceptionally intelligent and clever!” I’d be all over those.

Then again, that truth may be self-evident without its being expressed on a greeting card.

We don’t go overboard on Valentine’s Day in the Burt house, but we do celebrate it. I mean, why wouldn’t you take advantage of an excuse to exchange silly cards and eat candy and have sex? Not to mention it’s such a cute holiday–and you know a holiday’s legit when it’s got its own kitchen towels and dishes. (I’ve got the dishes, but will be hitting Target or Kohls tomorrow for clearance decor.)

And sock monkeys.

When I saw the sock monkeys at Walmart, in Valentine pinks and reds (or robin’s egg blue or jailbird stripes for the men in your life) with hearts stitched on their chests, I caved to consumer pressure and bought a pair for Mr. Burt and the Burt Squirt. (Monkeys are a bit of a thing in our house, what with Mr. Burt being a code monkey and the Burt Squirt just being a plain monkey and owning a bit of monkey paraphernalia. But I won’t pretend that any other thought than Must have Love Monkeys! influenced my decision to buy.)

Friday night, Mr. Burt went out to do a bit of Valentine shopping for me. Before he left, I told him he didn’t have to make a big deal of it.

“I just got you something little and silly,” I said. And lingerie. But I’m not so into being Even Steven that I wanted Mr. Burt to come home from Walmart with silk boxers or, God forbid, a banana hammock, so I kept that part to myself.

As it turned out, our Valentine gift exchange was a little more Even Steven than I’d imagined. Actually, I had imagined that Mr. Burt might be taken with Walmart’s Love Monkeys (that’s kind of a disturbing phrase, and I will never use it again) as I had been, and wouldn’t it be funny if he got me one, too? But I didn’t really think he would, as just a few days prior I’d remarked about how much I’m missing that gene that cares about stuffed animals.

Anyway, Mr. Burt opened his Valentine present from me and drew out a black and white-striped Love Monkey.

I opened my Valentine present from Mr. Burt and drew out a red Love Monkey.

(And when a boy Love Monkey loves a girl Love Monkey very much…)

If the Love Monkeys alone didn’t prove just how similarly Mr. Burt and I think, there was also the little issue of our Valentine date destination.

Earlier in the week I’d emailed my mom to ask if she’d be free to babysit Saturday, and when she wrote back to ask what time she should come over, I asked Mr. Burt, who was at his computer, when he wanted to go out.

“Noonish,” he said.

“What do you want to do at noon?”

“Hang on, let me check.” He started clicking around with his mouse.

“Check what?”

He didn’t answer my question, just said, “Yep, that’ll work.”

“What’ll work?” I asked, confused and intrigued, because we hadn’t even discussed what we might do for Valentine’s Day, not having secured Squirt care until the moment before.

“It’s a surprise.”

A surprise would be fun–except that I had this not-so-surprising feeling that Mr. Burt was going to take me ice skating. I had no good reason for suspecting this. We hadn’t discussed ice skating, not in relation to Valentine’s Day; a few weeks earlier the Groupon had been for ice skating, but when I mentioned it to Mr. Burt he was in the middle of a computer game and it’s a crapshoot whether he’ll hear you or not when you talk to him while he’s gaming.

Sure enough, Saturday rolled around, and when Mr. Burt asked me if I had any idea where we were going and I told him I thought he was taking me ice skating, his mouth fell open and he said, “How did you know? I didn’t give you any hints at all.”

It was true. We hadn’t discussed our Valentine date at all. And I hadn’t seen his email confirming his coupon purchase, because we have separate email accounts on separate computers. And the coupon he’d purchased hadn’t even been the Groupon one I told him about before.

“That’s not fair,” Mr. Burt whined as we drove down the tollway toward Stonebriar Mall. “I wanted to surprise you.”

I patted his arm consolingly. “You couldn’t have done anything differently. There’s just no accounting for ESP.”

We’re just a couple of Love Monkeys, with two hearts that beat as one.

(And we’re not too shabby on the ice, either.)