Julie and Julia and Bionic Grin

I saw Julie and Julia this past weekend, and it was quite literally, delicious. Meryl Streep as Julia child is adorable, irresistible, captivating. She manages to make herself oafishly elegant while speaking in that should-be-annoying falsetto, wondering what she should "dooooooo" in Paris. She's a woman after my own heart--she starts eating, and doesn't stop, intoxicated by butter only the way an American in Paris can be intoxicated. I watched with braces firmly in my mouth, drooling over the boeuf bourguingon, the raspberry bavarian cream, the divine bruschetta and sole meunière, which Julia lovingly feeds to her husband Paul. I was entranced. I was enchanted.

I was jealous.

This was gratuitous, hard core food titillation, meant to inspire viewers to whip out their wallets to buy Mastering the Art of French Cooking, buy Le Creuset pots, heck, buy plugra butter and lots of it!

If I could have eaten any of it, I would have gladly jumped on the bandwagon, emptied my pockets and filled my face. But as I sit here now with a bowl of mashed potatoes (Yukon golds, my mother tells me, make the best smashies) still with my inability to chew, gumming at the spuds and telling myself that eventually, I too, will eat like Julie. Or Julia. Or that lucky Paul.

As inspired as I was by the food, perhaps I have the film to thank also for starting the blog. It's something I swore I would never do, but the idea of a limited relationship to blogging--only so long as the braces stay on the teeth--is downright cathartic. I've read that one year blog projects are in vogue now--but for me it's simply a way of charting the tumultuous sea of time upon which my raft floats. And there is no way for me to know exactly how long this will take. The orthodontist says two years. I am willing my teeth to move like a desperate high school basketball coach ("C'mon team! Y'all can do it!!") to cut that down to one. At this point, only time can keep that secret and knowingly smile.

With its perfectly straight teeth.