1. I started DVR'ing Hart to Hart nightly on the Hallmark Movies & Mysteries channel and now I skim through two episodes while I eat dinner (I seldom make it the whole way through one episode, because it isn’t very good).
I loved this show as a child but now I see it's actively insane. How do married millionaires, one of whom is a purported titan of industry and the other of whom is a journalist, just accept this amount of regular mayhem in their lives? Why don't they ask more questions? Why aren't they more suspicious of their chosen circle of friends, since they are constantly being targeted for theft and/or violence by sketchy acquaintances whose glittering evening soirées or glamorous international weddings they inexplicably agree to attend?
One of them (usually Jennifer) is nearly murdered in every episode, not to mention A) fallen in love with by obsessive strangers or lawyers or B) employed as an unwitting drug mule in situations involving either Freeway the dog or Max the manservant. And they go on so many cruises! How do they have any time for jobs? What kind of crackpot enterprise is funding all these trips?
Also there's often an inappropriately lighthearted sexcapade going on relative to storyline content: for example, Jonathan had amnesia in one episode last week and couldn't remember who Jennifer even was, yet not only did the two of them continue to share a bed, I'm pretty sure there was hanky panky happening. Now I'm no psychoanalyst but that seemed both morally and mentally unwise, and it made zero sense to boot. Yet I adore it! It's probably the greatest thing ever to happen to me so far this month.
2. I get access to the NYT Cooking site along with my digital subscription to the paper and find the reader comments to be peerless. I churn up a lot of recipes from their app and always check the comments first; some are legitimately helpful in avoiding catastrophes, but mostly they're either angry or overly prescriptive or both: "Mark Bittman is a moron! Why would you ever follow his directions and broil this chicken?? It should be baked at 50 degrees for 10,000 hours!" or "You're boiling water all wrong, dumbo." Some lady left a recipe for overnight oatmeal inside a comment on a recipe for cold-brewed iced coffee, and it was like following the hamster right around the wheel, or witnessing an audience Q&A session after a reading or theatrical performance; i.e., bananas as always.
3. Something I meant to say earlier: I write here because it’s my space (lol <3, RIP), and anyone who visits does so with intent. It’s not me shoving this in your Facebook and expecting you to care, although obviously I do that, too. Om Malik calls blogs "thought spaces," and his post today touches on something similar:
What people don’t realize about blogs is that they are never a complete story. They are incomplete and by nature more mysterious, more episodic, and thus more interesting. Blogs are meant not to leave you with everything. The whole idea is to think, to deliberate, and to come back again and again, to finish what was started a long time ago. But there is no end, just a pause, for a voice to start, talking again.