Don’t ever let the jump scares win

I’m not sure what’s bubbling up in my chest this morning. Hope? Trepidation? The tres leches cake with peaches from last night?

George has been asking and asking for me to make it. It’s a bit of a process to assemble but worth every bite. A funny story about tres leches cake. George watched a video of a man begging to have “tripleloochy” for his birthday.

“All I want is that cake from the Mexican restaurant. It’s the best cake I’ve ever had,” he said. “You know what I mean, tripleloochy.”

He knew what he meant.

Tres leches. Tripleloochy.

Tres leches, three milks: whole, evaporated, condensed. Poured over a delicate sponge cake and topped with beaten heavy whipping cream and seasonal fruit.

Delicious, luscious decadence — no matter how you butcher its pronunciation — it all tastes good. We now only call it by that name. I want every day to be as exciting as the day I make tres leches cake.

But that feeling, a buoyancy, a lightness. Should I embrace it? Maybe I’ll examine it in depth soon.

It’s felt so dark the last nine years, gloomy — apocalyptic even. It feels like the hottest summer ever (Is it? It sure feels like it.), and the air has felt thick with impending doom. I don’t like feeling that way, thinking a specter from recent history was bound to entrench and deliver a jump scare.

I’m a big horror movie fan and recently saw the film “Longlegs” in the theater. I was over the top excited to see it. I had my popcorn, drink and candy, and we sunk into our seats in the darkened theater. If you follow film at all, you’ll know there is new horror. Several recent films like “Hereditary” or “Midsommar” are a few examples. My opinion on new horror is iffy.

“Longlegs” did not scare me, except for a few well-placed jump scares. I had been hoping it was in the same vein as “Silence of the Lambs,” which stayed with me for weeks when we saw it in the theater back in the ‘90s.

Hannibal Lecter, played by the spectacular human Anthony Hopkins, is a murderous psychopath cannibal who helps the young FBI agent catch Buffalo Bill. You know, using his evil brain to help her catch someone taking the skins off his victims. Not really someone to wax poetic on.

But I digress because these types of movies feel good in lighter times, not when the specter of a heavy future hangs over us like a black cloak. When everything feels too much, folks flock to lighter fare.

We saw “Twisters” last weekend, the evolution of the classic movie “Twister” from ‘96. We were hooting and hollering in that big XD theater and had a rollicking good time. The movie was stellar.

In the beginning I tried to compare it to the original movie but then dropped that notion. The movie stands on its own, gives a nod to the old and does the new with a vengeance.

Sometimes letting the old fall away is the best thing we can do.

I’m thinking about the peach tripleloochy sitting in the fridge. It would sure taste good with my morning coffee. I’m all about taking up these new feelings of hope and bottling them for when I feel down. Eating cake for breakfast fits that bill because we have to grab onto hope when we see it instead of falling down a dark hole of our own making. We can be our own best cure in the darkest of times.