Someone asked if I cared to comment, now that the network schedules have been announced.
I think all the networks have done a brilliant job of programming and it's going to be the best season in the history of television. I'm especially encouraged by the new shows, which all seem terrific.
Have I mentioned that I'm in L.A. for staffing season, going to meetings and hoping to find a job?
Albannach now has their own tartan. I knew you'd want to be among the first to know.
Yes, they will be at the Grandfather Mountain Highland Games again this year. I hope we will be, too. (Of course, if we are, it'll mean I'm still unemployed, which would be very not good.)
For people who have asked: Vows is apparently dead at AMC but has gone to two other cable networks. I'm not holding out a lot of hope. Religion, especially Catholic religion, has become very third rail-ish, largely thanks to the ND mess. I'm working on a couple of new projects that, with any luck, I can add to my growing collection of pilot scripts that everyone loves but no one wants to put on the air. Thinking of putting a vampire/warlock/Montauk monster into my next pilot.
I've had several requests to blog on the ND mess, so here you go. Here is a photo of The One blessing the crowd, who gave him a standing ovation. No word as to how many pairs of crutches and/or empty wheelchairs were left by the side of the stage.
You guys really need to know what I think about this?
Yes, Madonna and Jesus are getting hitched -- or something -- at a "Kabbalah commitment ceremony" this weekend. You can go here for the entire story, and an adorable photo of the two of them with her stolen adopted child. Also, the photo of Jesus' father is worth the click.
Ken Levine does a very good job of explaining Hulu to you.
I'm not trying to drum up sympathy for television writers/producers/creators in such times as these, but blogs are for venting, and every month I look at a lot of zeros where the residuals money used to be, which is what we'd be living on right now when I'm between jobs, instead of our retirement fund, which we realize is a horrible idea.
But since neither Publishers Clearing House nor The One have shown up at our door with a big check, we don't have a choice.
We've always said, "If times get tough, we'll just sell the house." Our real estate agent estimates it would take us about a year. (Even with St. Joseph buried in the rose garden.)
In brighter news, it looks like the Obama administration might finally end the Cheerios threat.
Awhile back, I registered our address with a website that tracks storms on radar by neighborhood. I did it almost entirely so I can show Caleb a radar photo with a little red arrow marking our house, and big scary orange, yellow and hot pink cloud headed in our direction, when he's arguing with me about why I won't let him go swimming. I thought it would be helpful when trying to combat, "The storm isn't coming toward our house, I just know it!"
I have since decided that the "age of reason" needs a modern upgrade. (To about 40, but that's another post.)
One of the little bonuses of this website is that it sends out alerts, like this one from yesterday afternoon:
Good to know. At least, it would have been good to know if I'd received it yesterday afternoon. But our internet goes down every time there's a drop of rain hits the ground, so I got the warning early this morning.
Other than that, it's a great system.
Here's a weird little bit of synchronicity. I hadn't listened to the weather report, so I had no idea a storm was coming. (Back before the evils of Global Warming Climate Change, we used to assume and plan for the daily storm at 3 p.m., but that hasn't been true in about four years.) The sun was shining when I decided to try to take an afternoon nap, because I hadn't slept well the night before and didn't want to be tired and grumpy when Caleb got home from school. My favorite drug-free method of going to sleep is to watch documentaries on YouTube. So I clicked on the list of videos recommended to me based on my watching habits (a list that would put me on the DHS watch list if I weren't already there) and I decided to watch a video about the 1967 Belvidere Tornado.
The video was made by a man who was in the 5th grade at the time of the tornado, and was on one of the school buses in the direct path of the tornado. There were lots of pictures of post tornado school buses and it was so hard to think about all those children just sitting in their buses, waiting to go home, on what should have been a normal spring afternoon. The video was very well done and powerful, to the point that I was not happy to hear thunder in the distance as I was watching it, even though we are in such bad need of rain.
I think you'll need to watch the video to appreciate the rest of the story. Here it is:
I liked that video so much, I watched several more that the guy had made about the same tornado. Since he was in one of the buses, there was a lot of emphasis on what happened to the buses, and the kids in them.
The storm got closer and, like I said earlier, the internet went down. But I had the TV tuned to the local news, so I heard the tornado warning, and saw the scary little "6" about 35 minutes from us, and heading our way. By now Caleb was an hour late, but I knew it was because the schools go on storm lockdown whenever there's lightning. Great rule, I'm for it! Even though one of his friends claimed that his high school aged sister once didn't get out of school until 8:00 p.m. because of a storm lockdown. Not entirely unbelievable, given central Florida weather, but Caleb has several friends who never let the truth get in the way of a good story.
Anyway, I wasn't worried about Caleb because they have tornado drills and since our house is within spitting distance of the school, he's as safe one place as he is the other.
I wasn't worried, that is, until I got the recorded message from the school -- I had been expecting it -- "Greetings parents blah blah blah on storm lockdown blah blah blah your child's safety is our primary concern yadda yadda yadda and the kids are all safe and sound -- ON THE BUSES!
Apparently they had loaded the buses before they realized there was lightning, so the kids had all been sitting on the buses for an hour.
I took off for the school to get Caleb off that bus. It wouldn't have gone well for them if they'd said no.
Caleb and Chris now think I'm even crazier than they had originally suspected. I'm hoping Caleb's friends think he had a dentist appointment.
But what are the odds that I would have just watched that video?
My conclusion? The line between insightful and freakish is sliver thin, and the fates determine your side of the fence. At any rate, I'm happy to be a lunatic with a safe son.*
(*For anyone watches iCarly: when Caleb really wants to get to me, he tells me I'm Freddie's mom.)
We celebrated Mother's Day at our house today because I'm about to get on a plane for L.A., where I'll get to celebrate it again with Julie on Sunday.
I have always loved the Mother's Day poems the kids write, because it's the only time you really get a glimpse of how they actually see you. aAs most mothers know, we only hear two things: (a) You're the best Mom in the world! [We just said "yes" to something they wanted to buy or do.] or (b) You're the worst Mom in the world! [See above, replace "yes" with "no."]
So here is this year's poem from Caleb:
I figure blog regulars are probably surprised by line 4 and chalk the last line up to lack of objectivity. (Which is, in fact, the explanation.)
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