Beauty is Ab Deep

My son is not yet three and he already (apparently) has an idea about what he finds attractive in a woman.

Yesterday we were lying on the bed watching Scooby Doo and a commercial for the Ab Lounge came on. A close up of a woman's sweaty, hardbody midsection elicited from him an "oh, that's good."

The next scene showed the woman flopping around in this lawn chair looking contraption that promises to give one the same kind of sweaty, hardbody midsection.

My son looked at me very sincerely, patted my arm softly and said, "You need to get you one of those, Mommy."

Dr. Spock, the childhood developmental specialist, is either a filthy liar or a plain fool. He claims my son will idolize me for a few more years to come, but obviously he has me confused with an athletic looking woman flopping around on a lawn chair thingy that I can get for three easy payments of $44.95 each.

Truth is a bitter pill to swallow.

It's official

I defended my dissertation successfully on Thursday and so it is official, I am a doctor.
:)
Although I have to make some minor changes to the "document' as I call it. It has been a long process with many wonderful experiences and many stressful ones. I am glad it is over! I will miss the luxury of being a student, but I am ready to move on.

I can now finally clean my house!
and go to movies
and visit family and friends
and who knows what else I will use to fill all this free time . . . . .

Aaron Sorkin, Where Are You?

Dare I go from something as profound as an engagement to something as mundane as television? Well, I can't help myself.

I am in deep lament over the fabulousness that is missing from The West Wing. The West Wing of old... was filled with Sorkinesque wit and cleverness. The last couple of seasons are, well, not filled with Sorkinesque wit and cleverness. I hate Aaron Sorkin right up there with Nora Ephron who is yet another scriptwriter that should be punished for being better than me.

Okay, I'll try to stop being bitter now.

In the meantime, while I'm waiting for The West Wing to come back to its senses, I'm watching a lot of Little House on the Prairie. Because I'm a masochist, this is something I have to admit in public knowing full well how it's going to go.

It's going to go a lot like it goes at my house. It starts with a rolling of the eyes and when THAT persecution doesn't stop my undesireable behavior, then the ridicule begins. Now my husband is threatening to out me to my friends and family. I thought he might be bluffing since it's pretty embarrassing for him.

So just in case he's not bluffing here is my preemptive strike -- I watch Little House on the Prairie. Frequently. I have Tivo, so I can do that with impunity (and do).