Donny???

I am a reality T.V. failure.

Big time.

I just don't get it. I like to watch shows that include actors and plot, stories that make me think or touch my soul or simply entertain me, but stories, nonetheless! Reality T.V. is so boring. The format never changes. They find a bunch of people to compete against each other for a prize. One by one, they are eliminated, either by a panel of judges or by the studio audience or by the contestants themselves or by fans who vote using their phones. It's always the same.

People compete based on all sorts of things: their intelligence, singing skills, dancing ability, cooking expertise. (I especially hate those cooking ones because very rude, mean chefs yell at people and tell them how bad their food tastes.) On one show, contestants race all over the world, trying to reach the finish line while encountering all sorts of trouble along the way. On another, "guests" are trapped inside a house and forced to eat gross food and compete in really dumb contests of strength or endurance. Ridiculous! Then there are the talent and singing shows, where supposedly famous people and good singers (though I've never once seen Neil or Celine on one of these) critique contestants' performances.

Then, some get to move forward (go through), and others are sent home. It's sad.

Perhaps the most popular are the shows associated with what's called "Bachelor Nation." It's like a cult following! One guy dates 30 girls on exotic islands. They drink lots of alcohol and spend lots of time kissing and having awkward conversations, all with the goal that the one guy will find his soul mate. (Well, except those who are there "for the wrong reasons.") And just like the other shows, one by one, the girls are eliminated. They go home crying in a limo. Then, the next time around, it's one girl dating 30 guys. Same format: Cocktail parties and rose ceremonies. Rinse and repeat. This is actually the only reality show I've ever watched start to finish because Shulamith and several of my friends like it, but try as I might, I'm just not feelin' it. My least favorite part is near the end, when it's down to three girls, and the guy is encouraged to sleep with each of them, one after the other, and they call it a "fantasy." Blah.

Possibly the worst reality T.V. show is one of the oldest. They put a bunch of people on a primitive island (nothing like the beautiful islands on The Bachelor) with no food and barely any clothes, and leave them there to survive. That's it. And it's been on since Y2K. The very worst part is that it's definitely rated "S." Practically every episode features at least one of those nasty "S" creatures.

But just when I thought reality T.V. couldn't get any dumber, it did. My guess is producers couldn't think of a new idea, so they asked a bunch of kindergartners:

Producers: We need a new show? Do you have any ideas?

Kindergartners: Why don't you find famous people and dress them up in giant animal costumes with masks. They can sing songs. Other famous people can try to guess who they are.

Producers: Done and done!

The Masked Singer was born. Call me naive, but when Shulamith and Eli first told me about it, I thought they HAD to be kidding. This could not be real. I was wrong. Shulamith and Eli love reality T.V. as do Seth and my mom and several others in my Portland family. That's why I feel like I should like it too. I don't want to be left out. They have challenges among themselves, guessing who will win these shows, and I can't participate because I know I won't watch.

So why on earth would I ever consider watching this new one with the giant animal costumes? Well, because apparently, people are speculating that Donny Osmond is the Peacock (see picture above). Yep, Donny! Other guesses for the Peacock are Neil Patrick Harris, David Copperfield, and Wayne Brady, but as time goes on, all the clues seem to be pointing in Donny's direction: child star, Vegas performances, friendship with Michael Jackson, wig that got him put in jail. Yeah, I think it's Donny.

...which means I'm stuck watching the semi-finals and finals in order to find out. Ugh!

I am a reality T.V. failure who is now forced to watch reality T.V.

The struggle is real.

Feelin' "the feels" today

I'm sitting here at my computer crying. Did something bad happen? No. Something especially good? No, not that either. It's just a regular day, in which I did regular things. Then I came home, sat down to relax, opened my computer, and saw this.

And now I'm a puddle. Over an advertisement. For gum.

I have no excuses. I'm not pregnant. I'm not in the middle of some huge life crisis. I'm not especially sad or happy or anything. It's just a regular day, for heaven's sake.

But these two adorable high school kids meet and fall in love. It's so innocent and wholesome and dear. They date. They go to prom. They Skype each other when one is away at college. The seasons change. The love grows. Throughout all this, they give each other sticks of gum. Then, near the end of the commercial, the girl finds on the wall, in a row, a series of framed gum wrappers (nope, I'm not kidding), on which the guy has drawn stick pictures of all these experiences they've shared. The last one is new, though, a picture of a guy down on one knee holding out a tiny box. She turns around, and there he is in real life doing the same thing.

Alright, admittedly, I am a romantic at heart, but I'm not generally quite this squishy. I am legit crying right here!

I guess it's just a day to feel.

Feelin' the Love

When we started to look at Boxer puppies a couple weeks ago, I was hesitant. You see, Gerald hates dogs. Why? I'm not sure. But for some reason, he has absolutely no use whatsoever for the canine race. Mind you, the only dog we've ever owned was an absolute nightmare. She was defective from birth, poor thing, and nothing but hassle the entire time we had her. If you want that story, go here. Since Chloe has been gone, Gerald has been adamant that we would never own another dog. "No dogs!" he has proclaimed.

So when Shulamith started talking about getting a Boxer, I had a bit of anxiety to say the least. Then two days ago, she found this sweet little girl in the photo above, and from just the pictures, we were both in love. Like totally in love with this dog. We had to decide right away, though, because the breeder was ready to adopt her out, and there were others who were interested. So I told Shulamith that if we got this dog, she would have to call her dad and tell him before we actually brought her home. Because even though it is Shulamith and Mathew's puppy, she will live in our house. So as we drove to Moroni, UT to meet up with the breeder, Shulamith called Gerald.

And what do you think he did? Did he yell at her and say mean things like "We are NOT getting a dog" or "Dogs are the biggest nuisances ever, and I don't know why any sane person would have one (like he would if I were getting the dog)"? Oh no, he did not do that. He did not yell. He did not make disparaging remarks about dog owners. After the initial gasp when he found out the breed we were getting and some comment like "Those dogs eat more than I do," he seemed perfectly fine with the whole idea. Hmmm.

We arrived in Moroni and waited not so patiently for maybe five minutes for the breeder to bring us our little puppy girl. She loved us right from the start. She is seriously the sweetest dog ever. Her disposition is calm and gentle, even though she is a puppy of only 12 weeks old. She likes to play, and she likes to cuddle, and she likes to chew. Then she likes to sleep. A lot. We're working on teaching her to love her leash and to go for walks. So far she likes to walk zigzag, so we trip on her leash, but she'll catch on. She's very smart.

My brother told me Boxers are the best dogs in the world, and he is absolutely right. We are definitely feelin' the love.

101 Posts and Feelin' Good

So I fully intended to do something special with my 100th blog post. I wasn't sure what that would be, but certainly something should mark such an important number, right? It's sort of like when the kids in early elementary school celebrate the 100th day of school by bringing 100 items. I remember going to the bank to get 100 pennies, so Seth could take them to school on his 100th day of second grade. I thought about the upcoming 100th post when I was on #90 and again at #96; however, when I actually wrote my 100th post, I didn't think about it at all. I didn't even notice! The 100th blog post came and went (sigh) without the slightest fanfare. Ah, well. It matters not.

What matters is today I write my 101st blog post, and I have to tell you that I am feeling good. I mean really good. Like almost "normal" good. As you know, Shulamith's wedding was hugely emotional for me. It was the strangest thing. I love my daughter more than life, and in the past year, I have come to love Mathew nearly as much. Seriously, this kid has really gotten under my skin. He and Shulamith are so perfect together; what a blessing they found each other. Nevertheless, this whole wedding thing tapped my emotions in ways I could have never imagined. Worried that I wouldn't be able to hold myself together long enough to get through the ceremony, let alone two receptions, I was calmly reassured by my friend Lindsey. She predicted that I would do okay through the sealing and even through the first reception for the most part because I would have no choice. But the trip home in the car, she thought, might very possibly be a repeat of our trip home nearly six years ago after dropping Shulamith off at college for the first time (See May 21, 2009 post entitled "Angst" for details).

As usual, Lindsey was pretty much right on. I did okay at the sealing, and even pretty well though the Utah reception, other than right after they took off together in the decorated car. But the ride back to Montana the following day was pretty tough. As was the Billings reception the following week. As were the next two months, truth be told. I simply could not stop crying. Like four or five times a day. Every day. I would hear a certain song on the radio and cry. I would look at a picture of Shulamith and me and cry. I would go to the mall and cry. I would eat a Cinnabon and cry. I would wear one of the many items of clothing she and I have in common and cry. I would do absolutely nothing and cry. Sheesh!

Once again, Lindsey to the rescue. She told me that eventually, this would stop. Eventually, everything would feel normal again. My anxiety would decrease, and life would be okay. Well, I am here to tell you that I think she was right. This morning as I was driving out to the C.O.T., it occurred to me that I'm no longer crying every day. I still cry sometimes because I'm an emotional person, but not every single day and certainly not several times each day. When did the change happen? I don't know. It must have been gradual? However it happened, I am grateful. I still miss her tons, just as I always did. I still hate the distance between us and can't wait until we can move down there. And I'm still profoundly thankful for modern technology which allows us such regular contact. I know we're not supposed to worship "items," so I won't, but I'm pretty darned appreciative of cell phones, text messaging, instant messaging, and email. Moreover, every time she tells me the latest kind and thoughtful thing her new husband has done for her, I am once again thankful for Matt.

So yeah, to any of you who were concerned for my mental health, you can relax. I really am doing better.

101 Blog Posts and Feelin' Good!