I love TV...don't judge me.

My family has always known that I have a severe television problem.  I love TV.  I love the news, I love dramas, I love comedy, I love documentaries.  Since I was a little girl, I have always loved TV.

Don't judge me.

Thankfully, with the discovery of the DVR, I don't watch as much as I used to.  Only the stuff that I really like.  Only good TV.  Never Whale Wars.  Or Swamp People.  Ugh...I lost brain cells just typing those titles.

My son has been a Netflix addict this summer.  He decided that he would watch the original Battlestar Gallactica.  That, by the way, was one of my favorites when I was in 4th grade.  (I-heart-Apollo)  JD waked into the kitchen and asked me why there was a gap between the two seasons...1978 and then 1980?  Why wasn't it in 1979?  I quickly answered "Because there was a stupid writer's strike in 1979 and it screwed everything up for months!"  I was 10 at the time.  But I was bitter.  Apparently I still am.   It was over 30 years ago, I should probably let it go.  This just shows that 1) I'm old and 2) My love for television was firmly established while I was a child. 

Memories of a 1985 made for TV movie with Penny Marshall called Challenge of a Lifetime that made me think it might be possible to do Triathlon earlier this summer.  I didn't quite do the Iron Man, but I did a whole lot more than I ever thought I would be able to a year ago.

For some reason, the best TV shows coincide with important events in my life.  This makes them extra special to me.  We found out who shot JR on the night of my 12th birthday party.  ER premiered on my wedding day, and I watched the first episode of Friends on our honeymoon.  I was sad to see those shows go off the air, but relieved that my marriage had more longevity.
The Closer is another one of my favorites.  I watched the first episode in the hospital the day my son Peter was born.  It's only got a few episodes left.  Again, thankful for Peter's health and longevity.  Last week's episode left me crying like an idiot. 

SPOILER ALERT:

The last scene has Brenda walking in her guestroom to bring her Mother a cup of coffee, and let her know that breakfast is almost ready.  She leaves the coffee on the nightstand and turns to walk out when Mom doesn't get up.  She gets as far as the door when suddenly the detective side of her realizes what has happened. Yet the little girl inside of her still holds out hope that her Mom will roll over and get up for pancakes.  Brenda walks to the other side of the bed...

I don't know what happened after that.  I couldn't watch.  I had to get up to leave.  See, I knew it was coming.  Years of television viewing help me to recognize foreshadowing, and I'm usually pretty good at guessing where a script is going.  So it wasn't a shocker that Brenda's Mom had died in her sleep.

The shocker was my physical reaction to it.  It hit too close to home.  Seven years ago, my Mother-in-law died in her sleep.  When I got to the house, she was comfortably laying in bed, holding on to the edge of the blanket.  It was nearly the exact same image.

This is what good tv does.  It kicks you in the gut.

It sucks you in and makes you care about the characters.  Just like a great book...sometimes even more so.  It leaves you wondering about them when they're not on screen.  What are Ross and Rachel doing now?  I wonder what Doug and Carrol's twins look like.  How is Brenda going to make it through the next few weeks?  Did Josh and Donna actually get married?  Did Santos run for re-election?  Will Leonard and Penny stay together?

These are the things I think about in the midst of laundry, parenting, trolling facebook, grocery shopping, working, cleaning and playing Words with Friends.

Don't judge me.