Speechless

I have the most wonderful husband. Last week was our fifth anniversary, and by way of an anniversary surprise, he took me to see March of the Penguins. It was very much a surprise because the nearest theater showing March of the Penguins is an hour and a half away. It's a documentary about emperor penguins--not the kind of film one would expect to play well in the area where we live. I was prepared to wait for the film to come out on DVD, but no, he wanted me to see penguins larger than life, and he drove me across a good chunk of the state to make sure I did. Come hell, high water, or a trip through one of the less savory portions of Cleveland (well, two of the three), I was going to see the big-screen incarnation of the penguin love and chick-rearing saga. He would see to it that I would, even if I would never dream of doing something like that myself.

The English language needs another, very special, word to describe the aftermath of the commercial I heard on CNN Headline News this afternoon, not four days after our own March to the Penguins: "March of the Penguins, now playing in select cities, opening everywhere July 22." Everywhere, including the theater five miles from our house.