The days are flying by, and I wish that every weekend was twice as long.  At night, I crash into bed and stare at the ceiling, making lists in my head of everything that I still need to do, remember, purchase.  While I’m sure that obsessive list-making is a habit of some men, I think it’s safe to say that women have cornered the market on this one.

We moved into a new house at the beginning of the month, and I can’t wait to show you pictures.  It’s wonderful and homey and perfect – or at least it WILL be, as soon as I finish all of the tasks on my list.  We need to hang curtains and pictures, and get an extension cord to run underneath the couch to be able to plug in the lamp, and organize, and paint the bathroom, and maybe the kitchen, too.   But even now, this 1909 bungalow is such an improvement over Hooker Street.

I’m a little bit embarrassed to admit this, but here it is: after years and years without one, I’ve decided that I want a TV.  There are what look to be some great shows coming up, and I’m sorry, but I want to be able to watch them in real time.  A TV is on my list of “things to buy” – but not before porch furniture and a mint muddler.  I have my priorities.

Summer is so close.  Starting this week, we get “Summer Fridays” at work, which means we leave at 1pm.  On my list of “things to do this summer,” you’ll find: Charlie & Julia’s wedding in Nashville, Jeff & Greta’s wedding in Seattle, climb 10 14ers, walk 1,000 miles, turn 30 (SO SOON), and play with my nephews.

On my list of “hopes for today,” it’s this: do not get overwhelmed, keep breathing, and stop making lists.

Last week, Carmen left a comment on one of my posts that completely resonated with me:

For the last 1.75 years I have eliminated all sad music from any playlist I can control and axed sad movies. Guess what. IT IS AWESOME. I am all about melancholy, but some seasons require axing all extraneous sadness. I recommend this. You’ll love it. Get trashy movies and books, action and stupidity, and fill extra moments with hilariosity.

I could not agree more.  Last spring, when I was going through the darkest season of my life to date (which, in some ways, continues today), I watched a devastating, raw documentary called “Dear Zachary” that just about did me in.  I cried for days, and walked around with puffy eyes in a dark haze that just wouldn’t lift.  Right then and there, I chose to take a break from sad movies, music, and books.  Life is heavy enough – and while I definitely see a time and a place for sharing our tragedies and our struggles and our heartbreak (because you know I love a good wallow), there are times when we’re just not strong enough for it.

For me, right now, sad stories and words just crush me down, down, down – like a trash compactor*.

So I’ve cleared my Netflix queue of anything dark (aufedersein, Holocaust), and am skipping the sad songs on my iTunes (sayonora, um, most of my music), and have abandoned Steinbeck’s “East of Eden” (for now) in favor of more delightful, fluffy reading.

Here are my recommendations for a few non-sad things to be consumed.

Watching
I am loving “Parenthood” on DVD.  I’ve caught episodes on-and-off over the last couple of years, but I’m starting at the beginning and working my way through.  What great, lovable characters, and relatively true-to-life situations.  For all of my bad boy crushes (Tim Riggins, anyone?), when it comes down to it, I’m just looking for a man like Adam Braverman.

“The Human Experience” is a fantastic documentary about man’s search for meaning.  The filmmakers and their mission completely charmed me.  Soak it up.

And I’m pretty sure that “Being Elmo” is going to be so sweet, so poignant.

Reading
I bought Tina Fey’s “Bossypants” at Target, and trust me: this book will cure whatever ails you.  Except maybe kennel cough.

A few years back, Rod bought me “I’m Down,” and I still laugh when I think about certain parts.

Also, my good friend Annie Downs is currently blogging a 31-day series on courage, and I’m loving it.  Mostly it’s just because I miss Annie Downs all the way to Scotland, which is where she is currently living, and getting a virtual dose of her every day in October is doing my heart good.

Listening
This one’s tough for me, since I’m obsessed with songs that gut me – I am masochism personified.

I have had to curb my repeat-listens of Jill Andrews’ “Sinking Ship,” because oh man, it’s cutting deep.  She has this line that’s like, “You told me lies with your hands and the truth with your lips,” and I’m like, “Oh my word” because she must have read my diary.  And then she says this thing about, “I’m searching, now not finding a better part of me, ’cause I want it back,” and that’s it.  I can no longer function.

So maybe don’t listen to that one.

But definitely listen to “Heart of the World” by Lady Antebellum.

And Sara Groves‘ latest, “Invisible Empires,” is just… so good.  “Open My Hands” is a current favorite track, as well as “Obsolete.”

And you should for sure listen to songs by Marc Scibilia.  I don’t really know how to get your hands on his music, but go on a hunt to find “Something Good in This World” and “How Bad We Need Each Other” and “Ain’t My Home.”  This guy knows what’s up.

What about you – know of anything non-sad that we should check out?

*When I was younger, I SO wanted a trash compactor in the kitchen.  Only our rich friends had them, so I associated the trash compactor with wealth, luxury, and ease.  The moral of the story is: kids, please dream bigger dreams.

I mean, you guys.  Have you been watching?

I caught up last night, and had tears rolling down my face.

This is the greatest show.

I love that the contestant’s weight loss is something that they cannot fake – you watch their physical transformation over the period of 4 months, and no amount of special effects or movie magic could make someone who was once 400 lbs into someone who is 246 lbs.  They work so hard, day after day, doing exercises that would be tough enough for someone who is already in shape – it’s inspiring and heroic and challenging to me.

But even more than the weight loss, you get a glimpse of the heart change happening in these people.  You get the sense that their obesity is merely a symptom of what’s going on inside – and that the physical transformation begins to lead to heart transformation.  Where there once was self-hatred, there is healthy self-belief.  Where there once was victim mentality, there is empowerment.  Where there once was despair, there is now fervent, passionate hope.

The season finale is next Tuesday, and I will be watching.  Team Purple all the way, although if I had to choose, my vote is for Nashville girl Hannah Curlee.  What a sweet spirit – an underdog who has undergone such a complete emotional metamorphosis, not to mention the fact that she looks AMAZING.

Dear Lost,

In the 36 hours since Sunday night, the internets have been abuzz with talk of you.  Did you end the right way?  Were people’s minds sufficiently blown?  How accurate were our theories?  Was the conclusion good enough?

Mainly: are we satisfied?

Lost, you were my favorite show I’ve ever watched, and gave me something to look forward to for 6 years.  From living in my studio in Seattle, to driving around the country for 3 months, to a tiny apartment on Music Row in Nashville, to a house shared with roommates and so many friends, to this new little life in Denver, you have been, as Daniel Faraday would call it, my constant.

You were an excuse to get together with friends – or, in more recent TV-less, friendless months, a reason to go to the gym on Tuesday nights.  You introduced me to interesting characters who asked interesting questions.  You tied together and orchestrated seemingly unrelated stories – and as exaggerated as it may be, in a small way it kind of makes me think of this.

[Seriously.  If that isn't a masterpiece, I don't know what is.  It doesn't matter how many times I listen to it - I lose it every time.  I think that's what heaven is going to sound like.]

I will miss the happy confusion you offered, and the absolute delirium I felt when I realized the game had changed (“We have to go back, Kate – we have to go back!”).  I love how you littered the Island with unrealistically good-looking people – women with fantastic cleavage and men with glorious scruff.  Thank you for throwing in polar bears, book clubs, Virgin Mary statues, time-traveling rats, swinging pendulums, smoke monster security systems, The Mamas & The Papas, spinal surgeries, ghosts, submarines, cliff fights (THE PUNCH!), and – loyal to the very end – a dog named Vincent.

People can say whatever they’re going to say – but you were good enough for me. I’ll miss you.

Dharma forever,
Annie

Speaking of entertainment… not that we were, but let’s do…*

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I cannot get enough “Friday Night Lights.”

I have never so badly wanted to be a) a Texan, b) a football fan, or c) named Tami Taylor… sadly, none of which I will ever be.

This show is so good.

I was going to write more about it, but that’s honestly all I can say.  This show is so good.  I am still on season 1 – but I watch it before I go to bed, I watch it when I am getting ready for work, and am already planning the upcoming weekend around watching at least 12 episodes.

Welcome to my glamorous life.

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One of my favorite singer/songwriters, Gretchen Peters, just released a greatest hits CD.  Not available on iTunes, I ordered it off her website – and I am so glad that I did.  A double disc set, the packaging is unlike anything I’ve ever seen, and last weekend, I sat in a comfy chair for over an hour, listening track by track, and reading through the liner notes.

I mean, when was the last time you did that??  It is joy-inducing, I swear to you.

I’m also listening to Mindy Smith’s “Stupid Love” on repeat.  No one has ever made heartbreak sound so good.

- – - – - – - -

Books sitting in a stack beside my bed but haven’t been reading because I’m too busy watching “Friday Night Lights”:
“The Time Traveler’s Wife” – Audrey Niffenegger
“Acedia and Me” – Kathleen Norris
“Eclipse” – Stephenie Meyer
“On Beauty” – Zadie Smith

The only book that I’m actually devoting any time to is “Oxymoronica” by Mardy Grothe.  Okay, fine – so this is just basically a long list of oxymorons and paradoxes.  One liners.  It is fantastic.  I read it every night and laugh.  I have another book by Mardy Grothe called “I Never Metaphor I Didn’t Like.”  Come on – THAT IS AWESOME.

- – - – - – - -

*my favorite phrase for changing the subject.  It works every time.

Today is the day.  TV has switched to digital.

I still have not bought a converter box.  I knew that I wouldn’t get any channels this morning – not that I cared about anything more than “Good Morning America” (“The Today Show” will never compare); still, I flipped on the TV just to see what it looked like.

Y’all.

I STILL GET ABC!!!!!!!  Every other channel has disappeared.  But there in 13” glory were the Jonas Brothers singing for GMA’s Summer Concert Series.

No guarantee that ABC will still be there tomorrow.

Full guarantee that the JoBros will still be ridiculous.

We are 12 days away from the dreaded transition to digital TV – although it’s not so much of a “transition” as it is a “bitch slap.” A belly-flop straight into the lavas of hell.

No, I did not purchase a converter box. It’s not that worth it to me. But I will miss my morning news shows – because what better way to wake up than with Diane and Robin, Chris and Sam? I could always go downstairs to our gigantic television of ungodly proportions, the one that’s hooked up to the cable signal. But in the morning, I prefer watching my tiny screen in the privacy of my Princess Tower Bedroom – in which there is no cable cord.

I have 12 more days of bliss.

This morning, I flipped from “Good Morning America” (my favorite) to “The Today Show” (my not-as-favorite, but more-favorite than “The Early Show”) just in time to see this story about Patrick Thibodeau. I bawled my eyes out. Involuntary crying. Not just hot eyes – HUGE crocodile tears spilling down my cheeks. Some things are just like that for me – I cannot, no matter how hard I try, keep it together.

Other things I cannot watch without crying:
- The last 10 minutes of “Homeward Bound”
- The final scene in any inspirational Disney sports movie (“Remember the Titans,” “Miracle,” “The Rookie”)
- Any movie that ends in the wild-animal-become-pet being returned to the wild
- The Oprah episode in which she reunites the long-separated Rwandan family
- Kerri Strug sticking the landing
- And as much as it pains me to admit it… “MOVE! THAT! BUS!!”

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And now – the moment you’ve all been waiting for! Drumroll, please…

And the winner is:

My 8th comment was left by hollyandmeagan, but who’s to say whether it was Holly or Meagan? Whichever one of you borrows her roommate/bestfriend/co-blogger’s underwear, get ready for a beautiful Valentine made by Anna Marie. You should probably give it to your roommate/bestfriend/co-blogger.

I don’t watch much television – and unless it’s “Lost” or “The Office” or my daily dose of “Good Morning America,” I am content to leave the TV off. I don’t have cable – just bunny ears – and from what I hear, I will be forced to buy some sort of converter box come February when the entire nation switches to digital.

[We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it. Just know that, what with my current financial state and strong aversion to change, it’s probably going to be ugly. Prepare yourself.]

But the bunny ear antenna isn’t so bad – I get all of the basics (ABC, NBC, CBS, PBS, Fox), plus whatever that channel is that plays dinnertime reruns of “Everybody Loves Raymond.” Also, blame it on living in the Bible Belt, but I get at least 5 Christian channels.

For free. Just like salvation.

In flipping through stations, I rarely, RARELY, stop on one of these channels – which typically feature a sweaty televangelist, or an alarmingly plastic preacher, or smiley children in overalls singing “He Has Made Me Glad.” But the other night, in the midst of flipping, I stopped on 3ABN (that would be the Three Angels Broadcasting Network) while I walked into the other room to get the popcorn out of the microwave. When I walked back out, this was playing:

And there, in the face of a cheesy living room set and unglamorous musicians, I was spellbound. This woman’s voice is GORGEOUS. And what are they singing? William Cowper’s “There Is a Fountain” – the hymn that killed the spicket.

Lunesta:
A gigantic glowing moth flies through your open bedroom window and hovers over your face, its gently-beating wings sprinkling sparkly, magical moth-dust and lulling you into a peaceful slumber. “A great tomorrow starts tonight.”

Rozerem:
During a sleepless night, you wander out to find Abraham Lincoln and a fork-wielding beaver sitting at your kitchen table. They want to play chess and talk about your stress at work. An astronaut is fixing food at the counter. “Your dreams miss you.”

Ambien CR:
A shrill midnight phone call rouses you from your bed, but no one is on the other end. When you silently and suspiciously pull back the curtains and look out your window to the dark, deserted street below, you see the culprit: bathed in the glow of a street lamp, a rooster at a pay phone. “Silence your rooster.”

I am only on the second episode of season 6 of “24,” and I have already heard Jack Bauer say some version of the following lines:

“Mr. President, don’t do this.”
“It’s too late!”
“I know about al-Fayed.”
“I’m sorry, but that information is classified.”
“I’m going after the bomber.”
“With all due respect, Mr. President, you are wrong.”
“I’m trying to save your life!”
“One of your men is a traitor.”
“I was afraid I would die for nothing – at least now, I’m dying for something.”

And of course, the phone is constantly ringing at CTU:
“Boop boop – BEE doo”

There have been guns and torture devices and love connections and explosions and maddeningly naïve civilians and doors kicked down and hot, young, recent college graduates fighting terrorism. It’s all so familiar.

However, an extremist has also been killed by a swift human bite to the jugular. So I guess that’s new.