What is this feeling, so sudden and new?

I have tried to start a fairly serious blog post about ninety times at this point, and now my Wicked Soundtrack Pandora Station busted out the 'Seasons of Love' and I'm having a really hard time not laughing. I mean, apparently the universe doesn't WANT me to write a Fairly Serious Blog Post. I can't imagine WHY, I mean I am so GOOD at Fairly Serious Blog Posts!

Seasons of LOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOVE!

Okay, maybe we'll just suffice to say that I? Am doing better. A lot. I know this is true because I talked to something like nine thousand people this weekend and not once did I think to myself that I would rather be cleaning horse barns or doing math or running sprints. No, I actually had FUN talking to OTHER PEOPLE. This is a good sign. 

Oh my gosh, now it's playing Come What May from Moulin Rouge which is the Moulin Rouge song (okay, maybe ALL of the songs from Moulin Rouge) I turn up to Eardrum Blasty in the car and BELT OUT even though I sing like a chipmunk with pneumonia. Oh man. Maybe the universe wants me to be angsty and serious AFTER ALL! I mean, suddenly my life doesn't seem such a waste!

Tonight we visited some friends who just built a new swingset in their backyard and all the dads were outside with the kids and the moms were inside talking and it was so much fun that I was all WAIT. Why don't we do this MORE OFTEN. Which is a VERY good sign, don't you think? 

It's hard being an introvert, you guys. The extroverts are always, "Dude, what is UP" and then getting all frustrated/confused/offended/bored when you can't articulate what is Up, even though you would very much LIKE to articulate what is Up. Sometimes it's so hard that you pretty much stop talking to people altogether, not that I have much experience with this, AHEM. 

But I talked to people yesterday and I talked to them today and I made plans to do more talking this week and oh, things are much better. I have to tell you about the talking I did at the bed and breakfast but I think I'll save it for the Catholic blog because, well, I may have to mention the words "Dobson family" and I'm in too much of a seasons of looooooooooooooove! mood for that right now.

Oh wait, did I tell you about the bed and breakfast? So it was Phillip's birthday last week and I wanted to do something Fun except I only had so many dollars for Fun and what to do with the kids but it has to be DIFFERENT and blah blah blah I ended up finding a bed and breakfast in my parents' town. So we left the kids with the grandparents and went to the fair at night and stayed at a bed and breakfast. Which sounds kind of awesome, right? Except for... oh, so many things. Better known as: stop trying so hard you big fat dork. 

So for our HONEYMOON we planned this incredibly... I don't know, I think at the time I thought it was ROMANTIC, so this ROMANTIC trip down Highway 101, which is the highway that follows the Pacific coast. We were going to drive 101 and stay at bed and breakfasts on our way to San Francisco, stay a few nights, then zoom back up I-5 in time to go to work the following week. ANYWAY. What a BUST. Turns out we are so not bed and breakfast people and we are ESPECIALLY not bed and breakfast people if they are all Victorianed out. Which, as you know, 99% of them ARE Victorianed out. Plus, you have to eat breakfast with PEOPLE and sure we like people most of the time, but we are not there to CHAT and you have CHAT and once we checked into the Westin in San Francisco and had ourselves a proper honeymoon experience, we figured this out. Bed and Breakfasts: No. Swanky hotels: YES PLEASE. 

And yet! We keep trying this bed and breakfast thing! Or, rather, *I* keep trying it. I keep thinking it will be COZY! And ROMANTIC! But it's just... FUNNY! Like this place, I mean, it's hilarious that there's a bed and breakfast in my parents' town AT ALL. And it's this exact replica of a Parents' Town Semi-Famous Person and decked out in the MOST hideous Victorian stuff and OMG the owner sat down and talked to us all through breakfast WHAT WAS I THINKING. 

(I am doing better, but not THAT much better.)

It totally sounds like I drank thirty-seven coffees or at least threw back a couple of G&Ts before I wrote this post, doesn't it. But I didn't! Am totally sober! 

Anyway. We managed to find it all funny instead of lame, which was good. And I sat and ate funnel cake on a bench at the fair while Phillip and my sister went on these rides that made me motion sick just watching. Fun times! 

Pandora is now serving up Jump by the Glee cast and now I need to go, I don't know, do some high kicks or something. Woo!

Obviously I need to get out more

I took Molly to the doctor today and spent some time explaining Molly's frat boy lifestyle to the doctor. The doctor was all, "Well DUH she's obviously OVERTIRED" and I was all, "DUH, I read that book TOO" and possibly there was some totally transparent and embarrassing-in-retrospect posturing on my part because it's not like I can have my doctor think I might not KNOW something. I don't want to look like a stupid fluff-for-brains stay-at-home-MOM.

INSECURE, MUCH? Jeez, self. Drink some wine already.

So this afternoon I let Molly sleep as long as she wanted and do you know how long that was? Nearly five hours. FIVE. HOURS. And then I am 99% sure she was ready to go back to sleep two hours later, but silly me I tried to change her diaper first and completely missed that thirty-second window of opportunity. However! I kept on keeping on and tonight is the first night my girl has gone to bed before ten. That beautiful ethereal sound you hear is ANGELS SINGING.

I am fully expecting to be woken up before I finish this post. OOOH, DRAMATIC TENSION!

And while we're waiting for that, I will tell you who my favorite TV character is. Because I spent an awful lot of time thinking about it. The answer is:

YEAH RIGHT. Here is my list of Favorite [Current] TV CharacterS. PLURAL.

Blair Waldorf from Gossip Girl. I didn't like Gossip Girl when it first aired, mostly because I am SO OVER the wild rich kid thing, but then Blair goes on about how hard it is to find minions and acts like a twenty-first century Amber-from-Clueless around boring Dan Humphrey and I start to swoon. She gets all the best lines. I'd list Chuck as well if he did anything other than squint and brood and disappoint Blair all the time. Stop making Blair cry!

Kevin from Brothers & Sisters. I read some review somewhere that complained Kevin is too whiny and bitchy and may I just say that this is why I love him? HE gets the best lines on that show. I sometimes don't get the interactions between the Walker siblings, but I always believe Kevin. (Special note of concern: What are they doing with Amy Abbott? Why are they making her so irritating and boring? Remember when Amy Abbott went all hysterical about the hooker thong? THAT WAS AWESOME. I mean, she can do something other than provide reasons for tedious scenes with Holly. Ugh.)

Barney from How I Met Your Mother. Everyone loves Barney, as evidenced by the comments, Saturday Night Live and the show turning him into a Hopeless Romantic.

Ummm, Everyone on Mad Men? Can I do that? Especially Don and Pete and Joan and Francine, but not so much with Betty.

Andrea on Samantha Who. The show is sort of dorky sweet, but Andrea (and Samantha's mom, now that I think of it) are the funny ones. Are you noticing a trend? The sassy characters with the good lines? I think they're the characters *I* would want to play were I an Actress with any sort of Talent.

Marc and Amanda on Ugly Betty. The writers on this show must have the best time with these two. There were a couple of Marc- and Amanda-centric episodes earlier this season and they were so. good. They've always been evil but now they're evil with a little bit of human thrown in and I LOVE IT.

I KNOW there are more, but Molly is squeaking and I'm having trouble remembering my many many television loves.

Oh wait! Special You-Are-Awesome Bonus! PHILLIP'S Favorite TV Characters!

Admiral Adama from Battlegeekistar Galactigeek. Quoth Phillip, "Because he's tough and in command."

Larry the Cucumber from VeggieTales. "Because he loves his lips."

This is why Phillip doesn't do the blogging around here.

Aaaaand, there she goes. I'm back on baby duty. See ya

A gimlet with your pumpkin bread

I didn't watch the season finale of Mad Men until last night. Partly because I was so utterly exhausted from the baptism festivities on Sunday that I couldn't stay up late enough to watch, partly because I didn't want to watch it during nap time and risk someone waking up. Oh, and the sooner I watched it the sooner it would be over. Boo.

I have to say, I was rooting for Don and Betty. I was relieved when Don showed up at the stables and crushed when Betty slid into the closet with that guy in the bar. I don't know if she asked him to come home just to tell him she's pregnant or if she really wants him there, but I'm glad the show let us know where Don will be during the hiatus. (Like these are real people!)

But! What made Don come home? Just hanging out with Anna? His 'baptism' in the ocean? I don't know. I'm suspicious. My take on the second-to-last episode was that he can't be happy unless he's living as Dick Whitman, and I don't really see how he's going to manage that with Betty. Can he be Dick Whitman with all of Don Draper's things? (All that money from the merger! Sweet!) And call me a cynic, but how does Don Draper not cheat again?

Anyway, all the office goings on were hilarious. The switchboard girl, Pete playing both sides, Duck flipping out in the meeting. (And Don's Don Draperness in that scene is why we don't really want him to go back to being Dick Whitman...)

There was not enough Roger. There was barely any Joan. I actually began to root for Peggy and PETE what is WRONG WITH ME? And I realized I knew next to nothing about the Cuban missile crisis. I loved that shot of Pete staring out the window of his dark office, holding that gun. I always wondered why he bought himself a gun.

For those of you who haven't seen Mad Men, I wrote all of the above because stupid Typepad is not letting me upload the [gorgeous] pictures of the pumpkin patch we went to over the weekend. Wait, let me try again...

The Mountain

No really, that's what we call it. Officially it's Mt. Rainier, but everyone just calls it The Mountain. As in, "The Mountain's out today!"

Just his size.

I suppose we could have gone to a real pumpkin patch (ie: the kind where the pumpkins are not already picked and laid out in neat rows) but we are city folk. This was good enough for us.

Someone did not want to leave.

I'm loving fall this year. The food, the weather (you can tell it's been pretty sunny), the upcoming holidays, seeing my jack 'o lantern lit up on the sidewalk. Turns out my vitamin D level is slightly low (normal is 33-100 and I'm at 29), but so far so good.

Now if only I could fit into my old jeans... THESE ARE NOT THEM.

P.S. Lest you think we left Molly by the side of the road, there were plenty of Relatives at my parents' house (because that's where the pumpkin patches are!) willing to keep Molly all toasty and warm at home.

Anyway. Two posts in one! Don Draper and pumpkins! Both very yummy.

In case you didn't understand how much I love TV

*****RED ALERT! RED ALERT!*****

The season finale isn't till NEXT week! MY BAD! I think I saw some ad for the season finale and assumed it was this coming Sunday, whatever, excuses, blah blah, I AM THE LAMEST!!!

On the bright side: we have two more episodes instead of one! And this gives you PLENTY of time to buy a plane ticket to Seattle!

To make up for it, I'll tell you that Jon Hamm is going to be on next week's Saturday Night Live. SWOON.

Also! Trivia! Jon Hamm dated Lorelei Gilmore for all of one episode! DOUBLE SWOON!

All right. My sister just implied that I am being stalkerish (even though she's the one who conjured up the Gilmore Girls reference WHATEVER) so I'm going to stop now. Ahem.

****END RED ALERT!****

The Mad Men season finale is Sunday night. SUNDAY NIGHT. Throughout this sad and lonely TiFaux-less period of my life (which Phillip is working on amending as I type), Mad Men has been the one single show I've managed to watch in real time every week. I don't think I've liked a show this much since Veronica Mars was on TV. And, like Veronica Mars, I occasionally re-watch episodes, because you missed the title of the book Don was reading or you didn't quite hear what Ken said to Sal or you completely blank on the fact that Jane bought Don's extra shirts at Mencken's. IMPORTANT STUFF LIKE THAT!

Anyway. I am alternately thrilled and despairing that the season finale is tomorrow night, although more despairing than usual because no one is watching it with me. Not even my sisters, the people who turned me on to Logan Echolls, are watching Mad Men. And so I need to ask: do any of you want to fly out here Sunday evening? We can put on our reddest lipstick and tease our hair and drink martinis and it will be SO MUCH FUN. I am not even kidding. Please come visit. My TiFaux might even be all fixed so we can rewind if we miss anything!

I'm off to mope. If TV's not your thing, there's a new post at Hot By Thirty. Although, moaning over the state of your closet might not be your thing either and then we REALLY can't be friends.

The Silent Fashion Assassin

You don't know how embarrassed I am to say this but I missed the Project Runway finale.

IN FACT! I didn't even REALIZE I'd missed it till I got Leticia's comment. FOR SHAME.

My TiFaux is oh so sadly still broken. WEEKS ago we had a wind storm and a power outage and poof! There went my best friend. I've tried my very darndest not to complain too much to The Management because he is busy with his Real Job and also pitching in with the care of two temperamental small people. I didn't want to be all, "FIX MY TIFAUX OR I SHALL DIE." Or even, "I can only watch one show at 8:30 pm on Thursday. WHAT AM I GOING TO DO ABOUT THE OTHER FOURTEEN SHOWS?" I do, Internet. I really do try my very best not to be a Big Fat Nag, but oh GOD the TRAUMA.

Phillip quietly told me how much parts for my new TiFaux would cost and I said, "Do you not think I would sell a kidney?" So the parts were purchased and Phillip is slowly bandaging up the TiFaux downstairs, while I watch shows in real time (HORROR) and completely miss out on pretty much everything that takes place when Jack is going to bed and the dinner dishes need to be washed up and Molly is spitting up over the entire living room. WHICH WOULD BE EVERYTHING.

But! I am nothing if not industrious, Internet! I ran to my trusty laptop (think of what I would do if my LAPTOP died?!) and looked up when the finale would show again because you know Bravo does nothing except show marathon after marathon of old shows. It aired again last night, and I made sure to tune in, and now I can give you my Very Important And Much Anticipated Opinion:

MEH.

Everyone was saying this season was so boring, but I didn't really think so. Maybe because I like it when everyone is nice to each other? Kenley provided some drama towards the end, but it wasn't Awesome Drama, like Wendy Pepper, or even Santino. I eventually wanted to hook Kenley up with a good therapist and a nice cocktail.

Anyway, my favorite designer made it to the end: Leeanne, the Silent Fashion Assassin. And my second favorite, Korto, made it too, so I wasn't disappointed. Kenley should have been booted after she attempted "hip hop" so Kenley wasn't even for real. For me. Whatever.

So blah blah blah runway show. There were a couple things I liked in Kenley's collection, but I didn't Get It. Korto's was not my thing. And Leeanne's I appreciated as Art, but not necessarily Clothes Someone Could Wear. (Well, maybe a few, but not anyone bigger than those models, let me tell ya.) After listening to the judges give their spiels I was pretty sure Korto was the winner. But no! The Silent Fashion Assassin prevailed! Whoo!

I loved how Kenley was all, "Hmm, should have watched my attitude," when she found out Tim Gunn was replacing La Lopez as guest judge. (Which: good on you, PR honchos. Tim Gunn is the best thing about your show.)

But still: Meh. I wasn't wowed or in love with any of the clothes. (Not that I am into clothes. Seriously. I could totally use a few days with Tim. I just like SHOWS about clothes. See: PR, Rachel Zoe, Gossip Girl.) You didn't come away feeling like Leeanne was going to make it big (not until she at least does something about those bangs). You DID come away hoping that Lifetime can freshen up the show, while still keeping the bits that make it awesome. Which would be Tim Gunn.

We'll see, eh?

Speaking of clothes, I've got about 40 loads of laundry to do and heaps of baby clothes that need to be sorted, put away or shlepped to Goodwill. Later!

How old am I? Let the Teen Choice Awards count the ways.

Phillip and I are reduced to watching the Teen Choice Awards tonight. September cannot come fast enough, and not just because I am more than ready to have this baby. I have no opinion about the Jonas Brothers, I have cringed each time a starlet hikes up her strapless dress, I am feeling like Mariah Carey is too old to wear yellow hot pants, I shudder each time a too-old-to-play-a-teen star says something like, "This is KRAZY!" or "You guys are UN! BELIEVABLE!", I can't figure out what that judge from America's Best Dance Crew is wearing on her head, but Hannah Montana can do no wrong. I love Hannah Montana. SUE ME.

You know who's a cutie? Chris Brown. I realize saying that makes me about seven hundred years old, but you know what? I AM. I just like to see what the kids are up to these days, with their music and their dance crews and their speed-of-light texting.

Did I tell you about our cell phone bill? So Phillip and I have a family plan and for the last couple of years we were keeping my little sister in cell minutes as well, although now she is a Real Live First Grade Teacher and can probably swing her OWN phone plan but I DIGRESS. Anyway! Whenever we get mail that comes in a #10 white envelope with a plastic window my brain goes, "Ew! Bill!" and throws it onto Phillip's desk. I am the picture of Modern Woman, eh? But this last time I got sort of curious about who's been calling who (SNOOP!) and I opened it up.

The first number listed was Phillip's and there were about ninety-seven pages of calls. Okay, maybe not that many, but when you are an IT Professional and also the sort of person whose pillow has a special indentation where his phone sleeps every night, you seriously have nearly ninety-seven pages of calls. Borrrring.

My sister's number had a page or two of calls. And yes I tried to figure out who all those numbers belong to, but even I have better things to do. So I moved on to my number.

Where there was (AND I SWEAR) like, two inches of calls. TWO INCHES! I mean, I know I don't use my cell phone that often, but REALLY? That's IT? And those calls? Were all to Phillip. Or the one or two people who only call my cell phone (and then leave a message, because my phone is always dead, and then I have to call them back a week later when I realize my phone has been dead all this time and I feel bad.) How lame am I? I can't even justify owning a cell phone at this point, let alone nagging my husband to buy me an iPhone. An iPhone! What am I going to do with one of those?!

(Tangent! You know how I said I was seven hundred years old? You know who is REALLY seven hundred years old? BRIAN AUSTIN GREEN. Dudes! He looks like these kids' DAD. Speaking of David Silver, what do you think about this new 90210 show they keep promoting?)

Anyway. I am pretty much the only person I know who not only still has a home phone but refuses to get rid of it. Seems like most everyone we know got rid of their home phone long ago, but Phillip will pry my purple phone with the old school answering machine out of my cold dead hands! (Or, I guess, when he tells me that the budget can't handle both a home phone AND a blog.) I just can't imagine handling all our calls on a CELL phone. I don't want to be interrupted in the middle of all the important things I do for, you know, the nurse calling to remind me about my appointment in two days. I mean, I hardly answer the phone when I know who it IS. (Except for you. I always answer your calls.)

There are two people with whom I can bear to talk to on the phone: my mother, because she is the only person in the world who cares about the nap schedule (and even she might be pretending) and my far away friend whose name we are not using for New Baby because Phillip is stubborn and irritating. Everyone else gets maybe three minutes of phone time, mainly because I am Phone Stupid. I'm not as afraid of the phone as I used to be (ordering a pizza? TERROR!) but I prefer to see you in person. Or email! God bless email!

Man. The American Idol Davids are excruciating.

So! I am thinking I should take one for the team and get a prepaid phone. You know. The kind where the numbers are huge and the volume goes up to eleven thousand because the only people using prepaid phones are YOUR PARENTS.

I'm so sorry you guys. It was either this or another in the MOLARS ARE FROM THE DEVIL series. Hopefully something fabulous will happen to me tomorrow (I score the alternate position on the Olympic gymnastics team! The baby is born! Logan Echolls calls me AND I TOTALLY PICK UP THE PHONE!) and I will not have to write about TELEVISION. AGAIN. Cross your fingers!

TV and ice cream, my favorite things

In new baby news: If one more person tells me how tired I'm going to be, I will stab them with a plastic toddler fork. Read more at Parenting.com.

In television news: for those of you whose TiVos, TiFauxs and DVRs did their job, what'd you think of this year's crop of Deezeyenerrz? I watched it live AND I recorded it. If I were a good little blogger I would go back and watch the episode all over, share my Top Three, give you my rundown on the Garments, who will be this year's Christian, Santino and Wendy Pepper etc. etc. But the truth is that I was working while I watched, and you know how the first episode has so many contestants you long for the days when it was just Christian and Jillian and Rami and Chris in the workroom? When you were attached to your characters and excited for Fashion Week and WHO ARE ALL THESE NEW PEOPLE INVADING PARSON'S?

That said. I kind of loved the girl who said she was going to be a "silent fashion assassin". I liked the girl with the big yellow flower in her hair. I suppose I should be rooting for the hometown boy, but GAH. (Also, he said he was from Seattle, but his bio says differently. Of course, if I were Blayne growing up in YAKIMA, I would have escaped to Seattle ASAP as well.)

Anyway, I promise to have a few more opinions once we whittle down the cast. Also, I promise not to be googling "css forms" while watching because wow, is that distracting.

Oooh! I DID want to tell you that on account of 1) passing my glucose test and 2) NOT HAVING GAINED ANY WEIGHT SINCE MY LAST APPOINTMENT I treated myself to an entire pint of Rocky Road ice cream while the deezeyenerrz ironed frat party cups and had meltdowns over their tablecloths. OH YES I DID. I haven't eaten ice cream since my You're Getting Too Fat Lecture (although I didn't exactly cut back on the Hershey Kisses and fudgesicles. Ahem.) IT WAS SO YUMMY. And because the pints were for 2 for six dollars, Phillip bought one and guess what HE HASN'T EATEN IT YET so I'm looking forward to another fabulous evening. At home. Alone. With my pint of ice cream. SIGH.

Anyway, I have a couple things I want to ask you, but I need to put the boy down for a nap and I don't have time to be Thorough. So for future blog topic reference, tell me: when did your kid start saying his first words?

For once I watched something educational

Thank Ted Koppel from saving you from another nap post. (Although I seriously can't help myself: three hour morning nap, people! THREE HOURS. No afternoon nap and a HELLISH time going to bed! Gah!)

But anyway. Ted Koppel. We saw him on The Daily Show a while back advertising his new Discovery Channel series on China and since Phillip and I are usually pretty interested in that stuff, we promised ourselves we'd TiVo it. Except we totally forgot (and also my TiVo is completely full of Jon & Kates (is she getting meaner?) and that series about NASA that I only watched with Phillip because THERE IS NOTHING ELSE ON, WAH. Wherefore art thou Project Runway?)

By chance we turned on the TV last night and it was on. (Well, turning on the TV was not chance. The show being on was chance. The turned on TV is pretty much the State of Being in my house.) And so there was not a lot of work getting done or any going to bed early, like we'd planned. And this morning Phillip tells me he didn't sleep well, haunted as he was by dreams of working in Chinese factories.

I don't know if you guys are interested in this kind of stuff. The series is called 'The People's Republic of Capitalism'. I have to say, on the whole, I am way more interested in redecorating Jack's room and finding cute girly portable crib bedding. Actually, I guess that just goes to show how fully entrenched I am in my Middle Class American Lifestyle, huh?

But the Beijing Olympics are coming up (anyone else tickled that it starts on 8/8/08?) and I've been reading slews of interesting stuff about China. Human rights and globalization stuff, sure, but I also recently bored Phillip half to death summarizing a piece on Chinese artists and the influence of the Cultural Revolution in The New Republic. Phillip was all, "There was noting about the new iPhone in that article. You know I am only interested in the new iPhone. By the way, where is the huge stack of Mac magazines I was carefully storing under our bed in case the fire department wanted to use our house as an example of Major Fire Hazard?"

ANYWAY. We were transfixed. The episode we watched last night flitted between Chinese factory workers to American factory workers whose jobs had gone overseas, to peasants who spend half their yearly income to send their only daughter to school in the city, to a super rich Chinese couple who were filling their brand new Western-style house with American appliances and Ethan Allen furniture. Oh, and who shop at the Chinese Walmart because it's the "upscale" place to buy your imported (from North Carolina!) chicken feet. KRAZY.

We were especially touched by the farmers' daughter who slept in a dormitory exactly like the one we visited a few years ago- eight girls to a long narrow bunkbedded room. And especially grossed out by the rich couple and their BMW and fancy dishwasher. Until I thought to myself, "I have spend at LEAST that much time picking out furniture," and then I was grossed out by my own self. We felt horrible for the midwestern woman whose factory job had been shipped to China, yet shopped at Walmart because everything's cheaper at Walmart- I mean, what is she supposed to do?

Ted Koppel interviewed a seventeen-year-old girl who spends her days putting boom boxes together. "It's a waste of my talent to work here!" she declared and who can disagree?

When the story jumped, for the zillionth time, from the lotus farmers in their shack to the rich Chinese couple, Phillip said, "That's the goal. That's all there is. That's why they're sending their daughter to school. So she can buy a BMW and an ugly four thousand dollar couch. THIS is why we need God."

We were silent for a minute, letting the Misery of Our Existence sink into our MIddle Class American Brains, brains that have churned quite a lot lately in the quest to figure out houses and grad school and two babies and what from Ikea will look nice in our overpriced house.

And there ends the Rumination on The Point of Being as told from the Cheung Perspective. For those of you who are all, "Dude, I just wanted to hear about Project Runway" I've got a post on Wading Pool Etiquette up at Parenting today. In which I take care of a one-year-old and a random four-year-old for an hour and wonder where the heck her mother is.

We're off to the grandparents. I've got work to do and Jack has his weekly dose of spoiling to enjoy. See you tomorrow.

How I like to spend my evenings

Today marks the start of National Turn Off TV Week. Did you know that? Damn my news obsession.

Last Friday morning, for the first time ever, I dug a children's DVD out of the cabinet and turned it on for Jack. It was something like Sesame Street's Favorite Kids' Songs and it was super old, this is I know because GORDON was in it and Gordon is from MY Sesame Street era.

Jack was mildly interested. He didn't plop himself down to watch, but he kept one eye on the TV while he moseyed around the living room, hunting for the remote (a fruitless endeavor!) and ripping up Mommy's entertainment magazines. He seemed to ignore all the talking parts and pay more attention during the singing parts. Again, I wondered where this boy came from because I? Will watch a test pattern.

Of course, this wasn't the first time Jack was introduced to TV. In my house? Are you kidding? One way I got through the bleakness of January and February was tuning into incessant presidential primary coverage. Some people watch daytime soaps, I watch MSNBC. I'm also one of those people who needs a little background noise and the TV is always good for that. (I had a visitor a few weeks ago complaining about her chatty officemate and people on the bus and everyone having to listen to the little TV ads they played throughout her flight to Hawaii and I was all, "Yeah, I don't even hear that stuff." Tuning people out = one of my spiritual gifts.)

Anyway, now that it's lighter out and we're getting out of the house more and I am not so much in the Throes of Nausea, there is less TV. But television being one of the Great Childhood Evils, I feel a little guilty about it. Not too much, mostly because Jack just doesn't seem all that interested. Perhaps he inherited my gift? He'll cock his head towards the screen when a particularly sing songy commercial comes on, but other than that he doesn't seem to pay attention. So that makes me feel better. My favorite vice does not appear to be harming my child. SO FAR. (Dum, de dum dum!)

Now that we've got that out of the way, we can start discussing my favorite topic.

At this point I'm not sure I care who wins American Idol. I really don't. Brooke, my favorite, looks like the show is eating away at her will to live. She seems to get worse (not necessarily her performances, but her demeanor) every week and I just want someone to say, "Brooke, honey, go find a piano bar and leave these Hollywood crazies to themselves!" David Cook annoys me. I thought his Mariah Carey adaptation was terrible. Sure, he gets extra bonus points for imagination and actually having some skill when it comes to this musician stuff, but 'Always Be My Baby'? Couldn't he have picked something less... bouncy? Little David annoys me, but you should have seen Phillip and me when he broke out the Robbie Williams a few weeks ago. Karaoke at Chez Cheung! And then we looked it up in our iTunes library (because of COURSE we have that song) and did it all over again. I bet you didn't know Phillip Cheung can knock out an awesome falsetto. And now I can expect the divorce papers.

Is the mother on How I Met Your Mother Sarah Chalke? Anyone? Theories? Her St. Patrick's Day comment, the umbrella, the mysterious blonde...

My favorite cook on Top Chef is Mohawk Jen. And people! Ming Tsai was a guest judge! YUM!

Lost has been seriously awesome, except for the Michael episode. Oh, and also the one where Jin is dead because NO WAY IS THAT HAPPENING IN MY UNIVERSE. After hating this show for so long it's nice to be excited about new episodes coming up.

Last night Phillip asked me if I would be watching The Office if Jim and Pam weren't part of the show. And the answer is no. They've kind of run out of office-centric plots for Michael and now I don't like watching him at all. Even though the show is still funny, without the redeeming normalcy of Jim and Pam, the cringeworthy dinner party isn't as fun to watch. And you guys, I nearly died when Jim showed us that engagement ring. SQUEE! And then! When he got down on one knee on the sidewalk! I was totally Pam, you guys, TOTALLY FOOLED. And then I made Phillip tell me how he'll propose the next time we get married.

Scrubs is not as funny anymore now that JD is OLD. You hear me, Zach Braff? GROW UP ALREADY.

What else are we watching these days? Oh, Jon & Kate Plus 8, which is WILD people, just WILD. My mom came back from visiting my brother and sister-in-law all "HaveyouseenthisshowitisCRAZY!" and so I had to TiVo it and YOU GUYS I am HOOKED. Do I complain about my one single only perfect child? FOR SHAME.

And after I wrote about my finger (which is DISGUSTING, by the way, DIS. GUSTING.) people kept yammering on about America's Next Top Model and Life Imitating Art and I have to say that that is one show I don't watch (horrors!) and someone will have to explain. I'm all ears.

I know I'm forgetting lots but you already think I am a TV Junkie and that my kid is going to turn into a bank robber, so I'll end this here. What are you watching and loving/hating? Anything I need to record? Because you know the CHEUNGS are not turning off their television.

Yet another glimpse into my messed up mind

I used to read books. Those books on the bookshelves? ALL MINE. Phillip owns, like, The Simpsons Encyclopedia and the entire score to Cosi Fan Tutte, but those don't count. And those books aren't just from old college classes either. They're books I bought at actual bookstores because I used to be a devoted reader of numerous book blogs and someone would say, "Hey, The Thin Place by Kathryn Davis ROCKED MY WORLD!" and I would have to go out and buy it. I might come home and read the first 20 pages and decide Kathryn Davis was not my cup of tea, but I never felt like I wasted my money. I was, after all, contributing to the Literary Sphere. Somehow.

Then Jack was born and I am pretty sure the last book I read was the final Harry Potter book, which I read in one whole Saturday while Phillip promised to keep our baby alive.

It's not that I don't read anymore. Have you seen my feed reader? I just don't read books. I have forty-seven magazine subscriptions, and not just to US Weekly. I have my political magazines (on the left and right, thankyouverymuch, which is why I am getting annoying amounts of fund raising mail from the DNC and the RNC) and my local "this is where you should go for breakfast next Saturday" magazines and okay okay my entertainment magazines and my very favorite, The Atlantic Monthly, which ends up in piles under my side of the bed because I have a hard time finishing it before the next one arrives.

But books. I don't read many books anymore.

A week or two ago a friend of mine was telling me about this fabulous book she was reading and since she was telling me about it while we were standing outside a Barnes & Noble, I decided to go buy it. Which is how I ended up with The Pillars of the Earth by Ken Follett on my nightstand. Apparently this is an Oprah book? That is twenty some years old? That everyone just LOVES? I was telling my Retired To Full Time Reader Status dad about my new book and he said HE liked and well, I am nothing if not a Dad Pleaser, so I dug into my book and...

I CAN'T READ IT. GAH.

I have this really embarrassing problem called An Overactive Imagination. It's really bad. It's one of my Highly Anxious Personality Traits. I wasn't always like this- I distinctly remember watching plenty of disturbing movies and reading scary books all without having nervous breakdowns- but I'm losing my ability to separate the Real from the Not Real. Seriously.

For one thing, I sort of overlooked the part where this book is set in the Days of Yore. Like, a LONG TIME AGO. When there were no baths and no toothbrushes and no last names. Where life was a bit more rough and tumble than it is now. Where you might have to be afraid of the Blasted English Invaders bursting into your family hut and running their spears through your parents' abdominal cavities.

I KNOW.

I've had to put this book down, like, fifteen times and I haven't even got to the good part yet, where the main character starts building his cathedral. I keep telling myself I just need to get to that part, then I'll be so engrossed I won't even care when someone does something horrible, but... okay. I will spoil a small part of this book. When a mother dies in childbirth, the father leaves the baby in the woods. Alone. To possibly be eaten by wolves.

AAAAAAUUUUUUUGGGGGHHHHH!!!

See, I KNOW that he had reason to do so (how is he supposed to feed the baby? he is starving himself!) and that this happened eons ago and that actually that baby is saved by a passerby which is a big ole plot point AND THESE ARE FICTIONAL CHARACTERS, but I can't quite get over the fact that this was life in the Days of Yore. I'm sure that at some point in history, somebody DID leave their newborn baby alone in a forest! OH THE HUMANITY. And that is where I have to put my book down and have it out with God because WHY MUST WE LIVE IN THIS VALE OF TEARS?

The last book I really got into I had to put down, because of 1) child abuse and 2) every single character had a secret and/or was lying and if these people just came clean everything would be FINE and it was DRIVING ME INSANE. I still haven't finished that one.

You think the nightly news is bad? Just give me a novel!

I fully intend to pick up this book again- because I AM into it, bloody gore and all- but I need to give it a couple of days. In the meantime, I feel guilt over the fact that I still haven't read a stupid book in months. I just saw on the Google news page that they're planning to split the last Harry Potter movie into two parts, which makes me think I should reread book seven. I did, after all, read that hulking thing in one day so I obviously missed a few things. And as far as I can remember, Harry Potter hasn't given me an anxiety attack.

But do you have any book suggestions? That won't send me into a pit of fear and/or paranoia? I've heard there is a sequel to Kiki Strike, which I LOOOOOOOVED, so I may go get that. Also because my sister knows I will buy books and let her read them when I'm finished and she may or may not have been bugging me for months to go buy it already.

Oh, and for those of you who actually made it this far and are all, "BUT WHAT ABOUT THE BABY" I have a post up at Parenting about girls vs. boys, as in, which kind I would prefer the second time around. I live to supply you with content.