Monday, August 11, 2014

Over and Over and Over Again

We started at 7 am.  I was showered and dressed and ready for the day, and so were my girls.  Little Cuter was asleep on the long piece of Cozy Rosie, the couch, and FlapJilly was in her infant Boppy pillow, zoned out as well.  Law and Order: Special Victims Unit was on the tv.

It stayed there all day.

The girls roused themselves and at and bathed and slept some more.  There were some explosive diaper adventures from the littlest one, and an ongoing battle with the stain it created on the muslin baby blanket for me, the Laundry Wench.  I worked a crossword puzzle or two, I stared lovingly at my favorite females, and Olivia and Casey and Elliott were the background.

TBG and I stopped watching Law'n several years ago, when Elliott's manhandling of suspects became too much for my darling husband to bear.  He hates seeing men acting badly; when they are wearing a badge it's even worse.  After I intersected with bullets, gunfire on tv was more than I could stand... and Law'n has a lot of gunfire.

I really didn't miss it.  We replaced it with NCIS ("the most initials on television," as our favorite commercial named it).  When I needed a fix, I'd visit G'ma.  Law'n is the perfect show for a gently demented person; it follows a predictable pattern and the same faces keep popping up.  We'd watch an episode or two together, feeling content, talking through the details because it really didn't matter.

Since she's been gone, I haven't seen a single show.  I more than made up for it last week.  It made me laugh.

I never understood how the kids could watch the same movie over and over and over again.  Dumbo, while Little Cuter recuperated from chicken pox.  The Lorax when Big Cuter was two - so often that he memorized it and left me with the biggest regret of his childhood... I didn't videotape it.  Parent Trap got us through Little Cuter's twelfth year of life.

And then, there's my husband, who is addicted to National Treasure.  Nicholas Cage makes my skin crawl, but the man with whom I live loves the film, so I suffer beside him.  Lately, I've been concentrating on the music, asking what instrument makes what sound.  I'm loving the french horns the most.

I read and re-read and re-re-read Little Women in the sixth grade.  It's the only book which affected me that way.  I can watch The Big Sleep and Casablanca and His Girl Friday whenever they show up on the tube, but I'd never start it all over again once THE END appeared on the screen.  Once is enough in one night.

Is there some significance to this?  I doubt it.  I just thought I'd share the thoughts.

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