I Love TV!

I've been thinking a lot about popular culture lately, and with the dawn of the new TV season, I have paused to think about what TV shows I really love. Really.

The New Adventures of Old Christine: While people love to insult the title, this show is actually funny. For example, last night Christine was talking about how when they are not dating women channel their energy into other things. "Like what?" her brother asks. "Drinking." (It's funny because it's true.)

Grey's Anatomy: Yes. I'm one of the hoards of people who can't get enough. Forget that the basic premise, that McDreamy would leave his gorgeous wife Addison (Kate Walsh) for the pouty Meredith (Ellen Pompeo), is completely unbelievable. I watch because of Cristina (Sandra Oh). And for McDreamy, who are we kidding, even though I find him morally challenged. And I like the rest of the cast too. It knows it's a soap opera with some medicine thrown in. I respect that.

Kidnapped: Somehow Middlebrow got me addicted to this even though the set up, kidnapped kid!!, would normally make me turn the dial. But really it's Jeremy Sisto I love. I get to love him now without being creeped out, as I was on Six Feet Under. Plus it's a mystery.

Without a Trace: I know I've said (more than once) that I would never watch this show again. I just can't watch the ones about kids. But I love Anthony!! It's genetic, I must love him. Plus that blonde girl doesn't bug me as much as she used to. And that other guy is okay too. But Anthony. . . (sigh)

Numbers: Math made sexy. Female FBI agents in completely impractical outfits (I like to mention this to MB when we watch it). Did I mention the math? This show reminds me that while math is a different language, it's basically narrative. Or the show makes it seem that way, for which I am appreciative.

Law & Order: The original. I still love it, even though the cast keeps changing. But I like the split between mystery and law drama. And they can still wrap it up in an hour. Nice work!

The Office: Love it! It's gotten away from the British original, but it's still hilarious. Steve Carrell. I loved the Gaydar on the last episode. Gaydar!

Scrubs: In reruns every night on KJZZ. Twice in a row. Nothing takes away the sting of grading like comedy and Fudge Reese's Peanut Butter Cups (MB brought these into the house. I must kill him!). And beer.

Also I watch Mystery every Sunday as long as the Inspector Lynley mysteries are on. We love our British Crime Drama. And comedy.

But what happened to Love Monkey? Middlebrow and I were the only ones who watched it. But it was good. Tom Cavanagh!! He's Canadian!! C'mon!

In Chicago, My Hair is a Whole Different Person

It’s the humidity. No. It’s the heat.
Either way, suddenly, my hair
has a mind of its own. The usually neat
tidy strands, fill with water. No hair care
product can keep it in check. It’s wild,
footloose, a coif with no inhibitions,
hair on the loose, like an impudent child
suddenly allowed out. It’s a bitch, one
damn thing after the next, each tangle
with a complaint or idea of her own.
Each heads out at a different angle
determined to look wind blown,
sexy. It doesn’t work. I look like that
psycho killer housewife. I need a hat.

Weekend Wedding Redux

My favorite thing about the public transportation: The fact that it goes right by the upper windows of apartment buildings.

My old new favorite person: Dave, the poet. Doesn't he look arty? He took me to a cool pub where we had beer and dinner. He's thinking poetic thoughts.

New favorite activity: Throwing back a cold Old Style in a hip dive bar.

New favorite T-shirt: This pink one. I bought it the day before I left for the weekend. The flight attendant complimented me on the color. It cost $12.99.

My new bedtime: 3:30. Yes, a.m. These are the crazy people I was drinking and playing the name game with in their hotel room on Friday night. They are friends of the groom. What are their names? I can't remember. (But my best guess is: girl, Adam, Lance, Jamal)

My new new favorite person: Lance (in the middle, above). He's a friend of the bride from Stanford. I blame him for the fact that I'm still tired, two days later.

My new favorite word: Ridiculously. As in, the wedding was ridiculously fun and emotional, everyone is ridiculously successful and ridiculously attractive. The toasts were all ridiculously eloquent, including Lance's. I stayed out ridiculously late one night, and only kind of late the next. I had to get up ridiculously early to make my plane.

My favorite pre-wedding chit-chat topic: The ridiculously liberal Salt Lake Mayor, Rocky Anderson. Also: kindergarten, day care, and how ridiculously easy it is to live where I live.

My one regret: I didn't give a toast. The others were just too good. I should have written one before I went. I was the only grad school/creative writing representative.

Final evaluation: A++

I had a ridiculously good time.

Edward Hopper Watches Me Undress: Yet Another Sonnet

Someone’s always watching. Think about it.
Might as well be Edward Hopper. At least he
would try to see me in a positive light, he
might turn his head and try to determine if
there is a best side, and what color my skin
actually is: apricot? butter? morning sun?
Maybe he would shout encouragement, one
word, well-timed, would help with when,
exactly, to discard the shirt, or what I should do,
like if I should twirl the bra, or just drop
it, still cupping my absent breasts, on top
of my t-shirt, jeans, socks, empty shoes.
Forget it. He would paint only what he can see,
hair, eyes, skin tone. Not actually me.

The Poem a Day Project

At the request of my sister, ErinAlice (see blog roll to the right), I am posting my most recent poem. I will find a way to post the rest of the poems, either here or elsewhere. I'll admit right now I'm behind. But only by two poems. So I can catch up. Really, I can.

How to Write a Raymond Carver Story

First, there must be alcohol.
Add some people who like to drink.
The action is mostly internal. Think
about love or death. A man calls
his lover from a payphone or a
stranger in the middle of the night.
The story is about sex, or a fight
over sex. Or they need more of
something they lack: sleep or money
or gin. They were in love, once,
but now it’s gone bad. He humps
a maid, or a stranger. He says, honey,
it’s not over, not yet. It’s not so bad
we have to quit. In any case, the end is sad.

Intelligent Design Vs. Evolution, According to Son

This morning son was singing a new song. I'm not sure how he came up with the lyrics.

Son: God's coming down from outer space. God's coming down from outer space.

and later

Son: We were made from apes. Humans were made from apes. We are apes.


(Just now Son and Friend are playing, either with lego men or his knights. Here is that conversation:)

Son: Let's get mochas. We'll have two mochas, please. That costs thirty dollars. Pretend I got you a bagel too.

Geez. I'm not sure where he gets all this stuff. Certainly not from me.

We need a Dog

This is Britt, the winning Sheepdog from the Soldier Hollow Classic. This dog looks a bit like the dog I had growing up. Son wants a dog so bad "he's going to explode." Middlebrow and I pretty much feel the same way. After Christmas, then a dog. That's the promise we've made. We'd really like a Border Collie or a shepherd, the only problem is, they need jobs, like herding or else they make jobs, like chewing up every pair of shoes in the house. Most likely we will rescue some mixed mutt from the pound. And we will love him or her!!

September: One Poem a Day & New Novel

HighTouchMegaStore and I have entered into a verbal contract to write one poem a day for the month of September. I forgot that yesterday was the first, so I had to write two this morning. The second one, a sonnet entitled "My Sisters Transform into Small Birds," was much better than the first. I invited Otterbutt to join, and she may. I look forward to receiving poems every day via email.

I have also, perhaps somewhat foolishly?, undertaken a new novel, which I unknowingly started this summer when I wrote a story called "Still Life." My dreams of grandeur have already been dashed, however, as I received my email rejection from The New Yorker last week. It's already easier than the unfinished novel in that it's simply chronological, I have a full cast of characters and I just write from another point-of-view when I get bored or stumped. It's also fun because it's set in Idaho and one guy works on a farm, so I get to throw in some farm jokes, personal experiences, etc. I actually already used a line that one of my dad's friends said to Middlebrow when we were helping them load the hay from the field next to my dad's house. And I've also included that the farmer drinks beer at 10 a.m. when he drives his pickup around. And I get to write from the boring husband's pov too. That should be fun. He's a medievalist, but I'm not going to do any research. Maybe I'll just base him on someone I know.

My plan is to use those spare moments to write poems. I wrote a four-page story about a pig ("The Manner in Which the Pig was Obtained") just because the urge hit me. I've been doing a lot of writing in my head as I lay in bed and try to sleep. But now I'm going to try to get out of bed and write a few things down. Or write a few things down before I go to bed.

Monday we are off to the Sheepdog Competition at Soldier Hollow. We went last year and had a great time. Lamb burgers and sheepshearing. What fun!!