Category Archives: Wing’s Words

Happy Blogday To Me: Once-Reluctant Blogger Reaches 100 Posts

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(orig. photo courtesy commons.wikimedia.org)

(orig. photo courtesy commons.wikimedia.org)

Happy Blog Day to Meeee….Wing’s World turns 100 posts today. I should buy myself a card.

Actually, I’m only half-joking. Given the number of people like me, mostly over-30s (OK, let’s be honest, even more of us are old enough to be the PARENTS of the over-30s), who have dived into blogging recently, Hallmark & their ilk could probably make a killing selling “Congrats! You’ve Reached Your 100th Post” cards. “From Your Sister-in-Law on Your 100th Post.” “To My Darling on the Anniversary of Her 100th Post.”

The cards could feature a long fence line, you know, made of…wooden…yeah, alright, you get it.

But none of us new bloggers would buy a paper card, would we? We’d be too busy showing off our mastery of the ecard. “Look at me, doing technology!”

Half the time, that really is what it feels like. When I was a little kid, my parents used to let me have a sip of their wine at dinner sometimes. I only took that sip after announcing, “Look at me! I’m drinking wine!” (Yeah, guess who’s the youngest in her family?)

Why this sudden upsurge? Because, like Mt. Everest, the internet is just…there? For some, I’m sure that’s true–reaching out with their thoughts is just a natural extension of, say, chatting to a stranger on a bus.

For people like me, though, starting to blog felt like signing up for a colonoscopy. “Do I really hafta? I know, I know, this is supposed to be good for me…How about if I wait a year and then do it?”

So fine: I started Wing’s World. But…starting to blog REGULARLY? “What does the world WANT from me?? Why can’t I just say my piece once a month and then retire with my dignity intact?”

I’ll tell you what got me going, and what probably motivated a whole bunch of my bloggin’ cohorts: FEAR.

What if I wrote a book…and nobody came?

A painter can at least put her masterpiece in a window for people to walk past and see, even if no one wants to buy. But an author? We have to PUBLISH. We have to get individual books before individual sets of eyes.

And that means we have to attract those eyes our way.

But eyes, it turns out, aren’t enough. In fact, if all your eyes saw were a stream of advertisements, “Buy my book! Buy my book! Buymybookbuymybookbuymybook…” stretching off into the sunshine like a line of fenceposts…you’d look away.

So my job is to get you to feel like you WANT to buy my book, because…drum roll!…you think I’m an interesting person, and you like the way I write.

And that, my friends, is why I blog. Or why I STARTED blogging. But an interesting thing happened on the way to the 100th post.

I began to enjoy myself. Turns out I really like talking with y’all.

So, here’s to Happy 100. Here’s to the next. Here’s to you, for reading, and to me, for writing, and…to whatever comes next as the line of posts marches into the distance.

How about you? Do you blog, happily or reluctantly? How many other blogs do you read? Do you sometimes suffer from “blog overload?” Do you wish the whole blogosphere had never been invented? Let me hear!

 

Diving In: Publication, Here I Come

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Self-published. Independently published. Whatever you may call it, I call it: Time to Make a Book.

I’ve already written one. Two, actually. The Flying Burgowski introduces Jocelyn Burgowski, whose only solace from a family crumbling around her are her breathtaking flying dreams–until, on her fourteenth birthday, those dreams turn real and she launches into the sky…only to discover that supernatural powers are not always enough to heal the damage of old secrets. Book Two, The Flying Burgowski Sister, finds Jocelyn pitted against an enemy bound to destroy Flyers and anyone else who challenges “normality.”

Both manuscripts have been critiqued and revised and beta-read multiple times. The only thing holding them back from their “book” destiny is, I have discovered…my own fear.

What if I’m giving up too early on traditional publishing? What if I tried a little harder to snag another agent? (Used to have one; we parted company amiably; won’t bore you with the details.) What if my beautifully-crafted book gets lumped in with all the other books that show, shall we say, a little less attention to craft?** What if I can’t handle the technology of self-publishing? All that scary uploading! Eeek!

[**I just read this on someone’s self-pub blog: “I would spend some serious time revising your manuscript. You could also pay someone to edit for you. I didn’t, but…I felt confident that I had caught all of my grammatical errors and when I read through the book after receiving my copy, I was happy about the work I had done. Also–the book still had some errors. I had gone blind to my own work.” Grammatical errors–are you kidding me? What about the book’s content? Yikes. This is what gives self-pub a bad name.]

But this is the week where I finally tell those fears to shut up. I’m in. I’ve done my research. I have a terrific support system: my writing group; Kristen Lamb the WANA Mama and my WANA-peeps at WANA.com (shout-out to my WANA113 fellow Hotel Californians!); fellow writers from the Northwest Institute of Literary Arts. And let’s not forget you guys, my loyal readers! You’re ALL going to help me. Thanks in advance!

Nine months ago when I signed up for Kristen Lamb’s blogging class, I made these goals:

By the end of the class, I will not only be blogging 2-3 times a week, I will enjoy it.

In one year, my first book will be published, if not traditionally, then independently.

I’m right on track.

I’ve done my research, and I’m planning to go with Amazon’s CreateSpace because techno-wusses like me seem to find it pretty user friendly and, more importantly, it makes actual BOOKS you can hold in your HAND. I’m contacting a professional book designer, having been warned by my friend Iris Graville against using homemade art for the cover. I’m talking to my local independent bookstore about selling my books. And I’m telling YOU GUYS, so you can cheer me on and be ready to embrace Jocelyn when she makes her debut.

The day I made this go-for-it decision, I went for a walk in the coastal woods near my house. After several hours lost in cyberspace, reading self-pub blogs and Twitter advice, I needed a little reality fix. And I noticed this madrona tree, which I have passed dozens of times.

tree 1

tree 2

tree 3

 

 

 

 

 

 

It’s supporting itself. That crazy branch makes a complete loop, then rests itself on its own coil, takes a breather…and keeps on growing upward!

I decided this was MY METAPHOR. After striving for traditional publication, after landing an agent only to see him lose heart in the shark-infested waters of New York, after quailing for so long at the potential stigma and the hard work of self-publishing…I have made that loop and I’m ready to support myself in growing on UP.

And you guys? You’re the minerals in my soil, ok, and the sun on my branches!

Seriously…Who do you count in your corner when it’s time to put on the big-girl panties and stride out into scary territory? Who are YOUR soil & sunshine? Or just let me have your thoughts on the whole self-publishing adventure. I LOVE hearing from y’all.

Why I’m Glad That Richie Incognito Isn’t Incognito

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“Big man bullied: Jonathan Martin reminds us that victims aren’t always the little guys.” 

That’s NBCNews.com’s take on the current NFL scandal involving Richie Incognito. The article goes on to mention Martin’s 312-pound frame to underscore their point that bullying is more psychological than physical.

Point taken, NBC. But let’s look at the point you missed, shall we? This bullying was more about RACE than anything. Martin is Black; Incognito is White. The violent, threatening texts and phone messages received by the 2nd-year Miami Dolphins lineman were laced with vicious racial slurs and epithets.

That’s called hate, people. It might be combined with bullying, but it’s still hate. 

Laying the two men’s career paths side by side provides such a textbook good boy/bad boy template, it’s almost a caricature. Martin, the son of a professor, attended Stanford; according to National Public Radio, had he gone with Harvard (his other choice), he would have been the first 4th-generation African American to attend.

Incognito (according to Wikipedia) was suspended from the University of Nebraska team, transferred to University of Oregon, and dismissed a week later. Yahoo!Sports reports that at least two NFL teams had listed Incognito on their “DNDC” list:  “Do Not Draft Due to Character.” Nice guy.

(Courtesy ditlo.com)

(Courtesy ditlo.com)

When I first got wind of this story–not being the least bit of a football fan, but being married to someone who embraces ALL sports–I expected the usual “boys will be boys, hazing happens” kind of reaction among the NFL. At first, I wasn’t disappointed.

ESPN.com quotes New York Jets quarterback David Garrard, a former Miami teammate of Incognito’s, describing him this way:

“I would just say he’s a jokester kind of guy,” Garrard said. “A good guy, but like all of us, you want to have your fair shake of pranks and stuff like that. … It’s unfortunate. You never want it to get to a point where guys want to leave the team. You would hope other guys in the locker room would help police it. It’s one of those situations that’s sad to see.”(ESPN.com)

Yeah, real sad. Now can we get back to some football?

But here’s what’s cool. That sadly predictable reaction has been all but drowned out by the rest of the NFL, who are, to my amazement, taking this disgusting episode with the full seriousness that it deserves.

Take it away, ESPN.com:

“Incognito was suspended indefinitely by the Dolphins on Sunday night for conduct detrimental to the team. Meanwhile, the Miami Herald reported Monday that the team plans to cut ties with him.

“He’s done,” a team source told the newspaper. “There are procedures in place, and everyone wants to be fair. The NFL is involved. But from a club perspective he’ll never play another game here.”

In a statement announcing his suspension, the Dolphins said, “we believe in maintaining a culture of respect for one another and as a result we believe this decision is in the best interest of the organization at this time. As we noted earlier, we reached out to the NFL to conduct an objective and thorough review. We will continue to work with the league on this matter.”

Never thought I’d say this, but: You GO, Miami Dolphins.You actually get it.

That’s why I’m glad that Incognito, and the racist brutishness he represents, is no longer, well, incognito. When I grew up in North Carolina, segregation still flourished. I attended the first integrated school in NC because my parents co-founded it, not wanting their girls to go to segregated schools. They refused to accept the norm.

When I first taught English and we read To Kill a Mockingbird or The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn out loud, that ol’ n-word filled the classroom and we all just shrugged away anyone’s discomfort. Ten years later, we started challenging that norm, saying “n-word” instead. A few years after that, I instituted the phrase “black gentleman” as a substitute, to make an ironic point. My students, of all colors, loved killing that racist norm, one word at a time.

(Courtesy thestarlite.com)

(Image from To Kill a Mockingbird film, courtesy thestarlite.com)

Once upon a time, not that many years ago, a slug like Richie Incognito would have made barely a ripple in the news. Now he’s about to get fired by an organization that pays people to beat on each other. Weird as it sounds, I call that progress, and I thank Mr. Incognito for being so “out there” with his racism that we can now use him as a benchmark.

What do you think? Is this event a step forward for mankind, or backward? Want to weigh in with your thoughts? As always, I’d love to hear.

What’s Your Happy Song? Civil Wars’ “Barton Hollow”: Not Too Happy, But Boy it Works For Me

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Do you have a happy song?

You know what I mean. That song that shoots a stream of energy into your blood and makes your body start moving no matter how tired you are at work, or how long you’ve been sitting in traffic.
It doesn’t have to be happy. Mine isn’t. For some reason, whenever my co-worker Ty plays his “Stompgrass” playlist in the bakery and “Barton Hollow” comes on, I have to dance in the middle of rolling out butterhorn dough. It’s a pretty bleak song. Doesn’t matter.

I’m not going to analyze a thing about beat or harmony or the effect of those Southern lyrics on my North Carolina soul. I’m just going to share the song and let you see what I mean:

And then of course I have to ask: What’s your Happy Song? Maybe I can get Ty to add it to his playlist.

Stand Up To Cancer, Or Stand Up To Bad Drinking Water: When a Good Fight Isn’t Glamorous

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Even though I don’t exactly put the “fan” in “fanatic,” I consider myself a member of Red Sox Nation, so I’ve been glued to my tube this past week, watching the World Series. (Might I just add: YIPPPEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!) But don’t worry, Cardinal or Yankee fans, this post isn’t about baseball. It’s about something that occurred during Game Four, the Stand Up 2 Cancer Night.

Even given how little TV I watch, I had heard of SU2C, with its cool logo.

(courtesy S(arrow)2C shop)

(courtesy SU2C shop)

 

Founded five years ago and spearheaded by members of the media and  entertainment industry, SU2C’s mission (says Wikipedia) is “to cut down on the amount of time promising research takes in progressing from discovery through clinical trials and out onto the market.” In other words, to streamline the movement of donations to effects on actual cancer patients.

For anyone connected to cancer–which, face it, is ALL of us–this is a good goal. And on Monday night, the goodness of this goal was very much in evidence, when, during the Seventh Inning Stretch in St. Louis, every player, coach, bat girl, and fan stood up holding a sign with the name of the person(s) they were standing up for. “Grandma.” “My darling Teri.” “The Johnson Family.” These were some of the signs I read. Most moving of all, to me, was seeing a line of black-clad umpires, those impersonal beings, solemnly raising their signs.

I tried to find a public-domain picture of this for my blog, but all I could find were web connections. However, when I looked for images of SU2C, here’s what dominated:

(courtesty Shauna Evans, Pinterest)

(courtesty Shauna Evans, Pinterest)

(Courtesy SU2C Shop)

(Courtesy SU2C Shop)

Beautiful people and beautiful boots. This is a charity with high appeal, and you can see why.

and came upon her description of Friendly Water For the World. They’re a group of Quakers who raise money for low-tech filters for clean drinking water in parts of the developing world. In their words…

  • Every day, 2,000 children die from diarrhea caused by unsafe drinking water and poor sanitation.
  • Friendly Water for the World BioSand Water Filters offer an elegantly simple technology that can remove up to 95 – 99% of bacteria and viruses, amoebae, protozoa, and worms, as well as metals, providing clean water for the family. More than 3.6 million people now have access to BioSand-filtered water through installations in homes, schools, orphanages, hostels, and clinics in 66 countries.
  • After 70% of the residents in the Bomet Region of Kenya were able to access BioSand Water Filters, and combined with local community sanitation efforts, dysentery cases in the local hospital declined by 85%.
  • Filters are inexpensive, durable, and made of locally available materials (sand, gravel, and cement). A Filter that provides clean water for a family costs approximately $50 and will work for up to 30 years with almost no maintenance needed. Fabricating and installing BioSand Water Filters is a proven local micro-business that can and does create local jobs and generates needed income. We help people help themselves.
  • We currently have projects in Kenya, Burundi, India, Ethiopia, Afghanistan, Uganda, South Sudan, Zimbabwe, and Honduras, and we are expanding.

Here’s what struck me: no movie stars. No Friendly Waters Shop (although, if you donate $75 or more, they do promise you a handmade silk scarf if you want one). No national telethon. No World Series Stand Up To Dirty Water Night.

Trust me: I am NOT trying to take anything away from the value of involving people in the fight against cancer. We all have someone–close family member, friend, maybe ourself–directly involved in that fight. But the “fight” itself is so…nebulous. $100 for cancer research buys…who knows? Certainly it buys a good feeling, and fellowship in a wonderful, cross-cutting American community. But $100 for water filters buys water filters. Several of ’em, each capable of saving the lives of an entire family of children.

Am I saying don’t support SU2C? Of COURSE not. It does my heart good to see so many disparate people coming together to support something larger than themselves.

What I am saying is…Stand Up To Cancer, buy the shirt and the cute boots. (They are cute!) And then…keep your eyes out for other causes to stand up for–causes which might not have Katie Couric and the St. Louis Cardinals on their side. You might not always be able to buy cute boots in the name of helping your fellow humans. But your dollars might have a LOT more impact.

What do you think? Is there a spillover effect of mass-popular charities, or do you think they siphon attention and $$ away from other causes? Or is the psychic satisfaction of donating more important that the donation itself? Let us hear!

Fitness In Your Eighties: Keeping Up With My Parents

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We just got back from vacation, and my husband and I are exhausted.

Not from the long flight back from Greece, although that took its toll. (I swear, jet lag should be declared an illegal drug: Just Say No.) We’re exhausted from trying to keep up with my parents.

It’s my own fault. This whole Cyclades Islands bike tour was my idea. “Let’s invite my parents,” I said. “We always have so much fun doing athletic things with them, and they won’t be able to do this kind of thing forever.” (Plus my mom is super laid-back and my dad grabs every check and pays for everything if you let him is super-generous.)

Mom

We are tired out from trying to keep up with Mom and Dad on all those hilly bike rides. Did I mention that my mom is 78 and my dad is 83?

They’ve always been terrific athletic role models, WAY ahead of their generation. My dad, a zoologist, got into distance running in the mid-1960s as the result of a near-death experience being chased down a beach by a bull elephant seal (at least the way he tells it, and hey, it’s his story, right?). My mom and my sisters got into running soon after. I wasn’t a huge fan, but I got into it in due time. (For more on this,  https://gretchenkwing.wordpress.com/2013/09/19/ill-put-a-gird…ok-maybe-years/

Mom became a running star almost immediately. Not that many women over 40 were running in the early 1970s, let alone racing, and mom was FAST. When she turned 45, she owned the national 10k record. Her picture graced the cover of WomenSports magazine in 1975–a journal that, sadly, did not survive into the 80s. Dad was never quite as competitive, relative to other men, since there were more of them. But he embraced each new age group eagerly, ready to face down his rivals.

P

Together, they dominated the roads of North Carolina, then branched out around the country, running marathons, 10ks, 5ks, plus one and two-milers on the track. They even attended the World Masters track championships. And they cleaned up annually at the Levi’s Ride and Tie, a crazy cross-country endurance race involving teams of 2 people plus a horse. (My sisters and I got free Levi’s all through high school thanks to their prizes. 🙂 )

These days they’ve slowed down–just a little. Mom’s had a tough time with soft-tissue injuries and spends more time biking, riding, and doing weights and pilates than running. Dad still runs a couple times a week, and usually bikes the six miles to his lab, but he’s considering buying an electric tricycle to help him get home when fatigue finally catches up to him.

As if!

Not only did fatigue not catch up to him on our bike trip, the rest of the tour members hardly could. My husband and I kept waiting for Mom or Dad to ride in the sag wagon that followed our bike tour. Never happened. They rode every hilly, windy kilometer.

Mom2

So I guess I just want to say Thanks. Thanks for being such great role models, not just for me and my sisters, but for everyone who sees you riding past, grey beard and grey braid flying in the wind. Thanks for showing the rest of us that a healthy old age may depend in part on good luck and good genes, but it DEFINITELY depends on hard work–work that doesn’t stop when the joints get creaky.

And yeah–thanks for the genes too.

P and M

How about you? Did you inherit any kind of fitness regimen from your parents, or were they your examples of how NOT to live? How do you find a way, in your super-busy lives, to model fitness for your children? Let us hear!

Kristen Lamb Envy: I Want to be a Maven Too!

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First of all, I’d like y’all to meet my Blogging Guru, Kristen Lamb. If you haven’t been to her website yet, run, don’t walk. Here’s her latest:  http://warriorwriters.wordpress.com/2013/10/01/asking-what-if-exploring-the-unknown-a-final-word-on-writing-horror/

Doesn’t matter if you’re a writer or not–although if you are, Kristen has plenty of good advice for your craft. But if you need help or even just ENCOURAGEMENT dealing with social media, Kristen’s your gal–and along the way she’ll make you laugh so hard you’ll probably need to change clothes.

Don’t believe me? Check out http://warriorwriters.wordpress.com/?s=panty+liners

Kristen’s been blogging since 2005, she founded WANA International, (“We Are Not Alone”), an organization dedicated to guiding writers toward their goal, and  she just published a book on social media. She’s all OVER the internet, and as a fellow writer and dedicated techno-wuss, I ought to have serious tech-envy of Kristen. But what I really envy is her title. Here’s what Author Magazine had to say about Kristen last month:

Kristen is the author, most recently, of the highly recommended Rise of the Machines: Human Authors in a Digital World, a prolific blogger, and a social media maven. 

Did you catch that? She’s a MAVEN. 

Merriam Online defines “maven” as “one who knows a lot about a particular subject; one who is experienced or knowledgeable.” It goes on to provide examples of both male and female “mavens,” but I’m pretty sure I’ve only ever heard the word used to describe women. (Wait, so…women are mavens and men are, what, experts? Hmm.  I’ll save my thoughts on that for another post.)

I want to be a maven too! Such a cool word, rhymes with raven, bears the cachet of sophistication…really, who wouldn’t want to be a maven?

So I’ve been thinking of what I could be a maven of. I was a damn good high school teacher, but there are plenty of Master Teachers out there, so Education Maven doesn’t fit. I know quite a bit about running and hiking, but Outdoors Maven? Nope–too many REI employees out there to kick my butt.

Here’s what I settled on: I’m a pie maven. Yup. I can tell you everything you need to know about crust and filling, and I can bore the pants off you with my history as a piemaker.

I got this. (courtesy npr.org)

I got this. (courtesy npr.org)

Pie Maven. I like the sound of that.

Gretchen Wing, Pie Maven (courtesy flikr.org)

Gretchen Wing, Pie Maven (courtesy flikr.org)

What about you? If you could be a maven of anything, what would it be? Or…maybe you already are one??? Do tell!

Nostalgia Does Not Equal Depression? Wow, Thanks, Association for Psychological Science.

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This (not) just in: I’m not depressed. 

No, I don’t mean to imply by that double negative that I am, in fact, depressed–what I mean is that this is NOT breaking news. I read a piece of old newspaper, ok? Sometimes old newsprint comes into play when I clean up the bakery before closing, and this one article caught my eye…from, I guess, 2009. (Don’t worry, it was a CLEAN old newspaper.)

The article said that the Association for Psychological Science had just announced that they no longer considered nostalgia to be a symptom of depression.

http://www.psychologicalscience.org/media/releases/2008/sedikides.cfm

My reaction? The bloggable version? “You don’t say, Sherlock.”

I love to live in the past. I’ve kept an active journal since October 1975, and I love reading back on it. (Also a great way to win arguments, btw.) I can lose myself in photo albums, the digital or “real” kind. Hell, I can lose myself in a single photo.

Music? The other day on the highway, the Eagles’ “I Can’t Tell You Why” came on the radio. I turned to my husband. “This song was playing when we first drove up to the Grand Canyon,” I informed him. That happened in 1980.

Smell? Walking along a country road in Vermont last month (where we went for a wedding), I caught a whiff of billygoat. Instant mental picture: the old goat barn of the field station at Duke University where my dad did his research. Late 60s, early 70s.

Helen and Gretchen 2012

I also love the recent past. There’s this game I play–OK, high trust, I’m letting y’all know right now how anal I am–called “A Week Ago.” While on a long walk or bike ride or drive, I will challenge myself to remember something that happened exactly a week ago. For example: “Had so-and-so over for dinner, and had my music lesson.” “Was driving home from the airport.” I can usually go back a whole YEAR doing this, but I limit myself to six months. Hey, I’m not a complete nutter.

I’d like to say I play “A Week Ago” as a strategy to stay as mentally alert as my 103 year-old grandmother was before she passed away, just in case I inherit those genes. But the truth is, I simply enjoy it.

And anyone who knows me will tell you, I’m the least depressed person they know.

However, lest you have your doubts: I also enjoy the hell out of anticipating the future. And the present? Aces with me. In fact, I think I’ll get back to it right now.

How about y’all, though? Living in the past? Does that bring you joy, and if so, in what ways? Or can you get stuck there? If your past contains sorrow, do you still find some joy in thinking about it, or does avoidance work better?

Why I’m Not Blogging From My Bike in Greece

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Multiple choice:  As you read this, I am

a) riding a bicycle around a Greek island

b) stuffing my face with feta cheese and olives

c) sleeping off the results of a) and b)

d) not blogging

Correct answer: any of the above, although not all simultaneously.

I surely tip my hat to those of you hardcore bloggers who somehow stay in touch, live, from Paradise. But that is SO NOT ME. My version of Paradise includes nothing digital, except the digits of my hand, which I hope will be clutching only handlebars, or food, or my husband’s digits, for a full nine days.

(orig. photo courtesy bestthinking.com)

(orig. photo courtesy bestthinking.com)

That’s why I wrote this post well in advance and scheduled it. Yay for scheduling.

(orig. photo courtesy bestthinking.com)

(orig. photo courtesy bestthinking.com)

I’m not a techno-phobe. Techno-WUSS, yes, definitely. But I got nothing major against smartphones, tablets, all those other devices that chain us to society when we most need to be freeing ourselves to feel our inner spirit and reconnect with the natural world or other people allow us to stay connected.

OK, maybe I have a LITTLE something against those devices. Or against the pressure they manage to exert.

I’m on VACATION. I will check back in when I get home and tell you how wonderful it was. In the meantime, thank you for putting up with my curmudgeonliness listening to my opinions.

(orig. photo courtesy publicphoto.org)

(orig. photo courtesy publicphoto.org)

What about you? Do you stay technologically connected while on vacation? Is it hard not to? Whom do you get more impatient with, people who can’t disconnect, or people like me who grouse about disconnecting?

Breaking Bad: Don’ttellmeIcan’thearyoulalalala…

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SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP. I don’t want to hear about the season finale of Breaking Bad. I haven’t watched a single episode, and, if I play my cards right, I can hang onto that blissful ignorance another two-three years until I finally, deliciously, settle down to watch the entire however-many-seasons-there-are-by-then on MY OWN time. Hey, it worked with “Scrubs” and “Homeland”!

Who am I kidding. It worked with “Cheers” and “Friends” and “West Wing” too.

My husband and I never watch ANYTHING in season. Where most people treat TV shows like fresh fruit, we treat them like fine wine.
“Pop the cork on this 2006 episode, hon?”
“No, sweetie, I think it needs a couple-few more months…”

Until last week, that is, when I came home to find him watching a “Breaking Bad Marathon.” My retired husband uses TV to jump-start his post-workout nap, but in this case it wasn’t working. He was riveted.

Me: What are you DOING?

Him: Shh. They’re catching me up on the whole previous season so I can be ready for the Season Finale.

Me: How could you? What about our lives together? What about our ancient, unspoken pact always to be out of step, together, with the rest of American society? Oh. Guess I’ll go for my run now…

I think I shamed him. I’m pretty sure he didn’t watch that Season Finale, which means we can still enjoy it, together, in our old(er) age. But only if y’all keep your mouths shut.

On the other hand–forget it. You’d have to talk so long to catch me up on the plot that you’d probably get a sore throat and quit before you gave anything away.

So, are my husband and I the only idiots people who do this? Anyone else live their lives via rerun? How’s that workin’ for ya?