What's Happening to me??????
My middle sister is a pusher. A drug pusher, but the buzz she's selling isn't in the form of illegal pharmaceuticals. Her brand of poison is the "Gilmore Girls". You heard it here first. Before last week I SO did not care about the lives of Lorelei and Rory Gilmore. Do you hear me?? I. Did. Not. Care. I am the mother of three sons. I gave up living in the Land of the Girlies a long time ago. Cheerleaders make me cranky. I threw out my curling iron before I got married and, for a good ten years, I stopped wearing perfume altogether. I hate to shop. HATE IT. Also the color pink. Detest it.
But my husband and sons went out of town on a scout-related venture as they are wont to do...oh...EVERY OTHER WEEKEND OF MY LIFE!! and leave me to my own devices so my middle sister offered her copy of the Season One of "The Gilmore Girls".
And...uh...now I'm hooked. Painfully. Pitifully hooked.
I tell myself that it is a fiction...a fantasy. Mothers and daughters who paint each other's toenails and borrow each other's clothes. Mothers and daughters whose phone conversations don't require an NFL-endorsed referee to negotiate the verbal minefields. I can't relate. But. I. Want. To.
What's happening to me?
I'm becoming the woman I never was. I'm looking at women's sweaters and saying, "Hey....I want that!". I see people so addicted to coffee (Lorelei and Rory) that they're in serious need of a room at The Betty Ford Center. I see the fictional town of Stars Hollow and am reminded of Andy Griffith's Mayberry...except it's in vivid color. More twinkle lights and bungalow houses. A quaint town with a charming downtown area...only populated with people who went to college instead of Floyd the crazy barber. Pumpkin patches and good-natured county fairs. Sally Struthers as the strange neighbor next door who has gnome statues in her front yard. Snappy dialog. It's like a Nora Ephron wet dream.
I claw around for this week's copy of my "New Yorker" subscription. I try to orient myself to that which usually stimulates me. Yet, I must know if Luke will ever tell Lorelei how he feels and I walk zombie-like to the television. One more episode? Whose going to know?? The cat? There's no one else here.
I'm almost sure that "Gilmore Girls" is a gateway drug. A gateway to what....well...I'm not sure.
I'm so behind. The show has been on for....uh....about six seasons. I'm going to have to watch all of these on DVD and then be ready when the new season starts this Fall. And then...I'll be setting the TiVo to a channel I've never watched before. The "WB".
Pray for me....I'll be sitting in the same spot. Glass of wine. Wearing my Chinese bathrobe and waiting for a "fresh Gilmore Girls". Three words I thought I'd never say.
And I'm loving it.