It isn’t often that I enjoy a movie, particularly when I’m watching it in lieu of a Phillies game.  But on Saturday night Mr. Red and I watched Finding Neverland, and we both thoroughly enjoyed it.  If you haven’t already seen the film, I highly recommend adding it to your Netflix Queue.

And then today I came across an article, The Parent Trap: Art After Children, which was also excellent (h/t to Shannon), and hit upon many of the same themes of Finding Neverland.

“There is no more sombre enemy of good art than the pram in the hallway.” In fact, we didn’t have a pram or a hallway, but in the dark watches of the night I would sometimes look at the Maclaren Dreamer buggy in the corner of the tiny kitchen and think, is that it then? Will I have to go and get a proper job and never write again?…

…I remember reading that when the writer Tracey Chevalier had her first baby, someone told her that “every baby costs one book”; she said something to the effect that that seemed fair enough. But we should turn Connolly’s equation upside-down and say that maybe what’s in the pram – breathing, vulnerable life, hope, a present responsibility – is actually more important than good art. It might make us produce less art, but maybe it would be art with the future at its heart.

And we all know that kids and families make for some great writing material.  So even if you’ve never seen Finding Neverland, go read the article.  It’s very entertaining, well-written, and full of some great points.

And now on to the real reason for my post.  One of our readers, Ruth, asked about our temperaments.  Since I know all the builders in real life, I will give my opinion, and you are all welcome to agree/disagree with me in the comments.

Me (Red)–Choleric and slightly Sanguine

B-Mama–Sanguine and slightly Choleric

Kat–Phlegmatic

MaryAlice–Melancholic and slightly Choleric

Juris Mater–Melancholic and Choleric

Tex–Melancholic and Choleric

AWOL–Choleric

Am I right?