Or, sometimes I wish I did!
Lord, I love that show. Love, as in, love, love, LOVE.
Last week I had to make an emergency visit to the dentist, leaving work early to do it. With my mouth all numbed-up and getting over a couple of weeks of pain inflicted by a malevolent wisdom tooth, what could I do at home?
So Bill and I watched a 9-hour marathon--yes, NINE hours--of Desperate Housewives on Netflix. I can't believe eight seasons have gone by and we're only now discovering Susan Meyer, Bree Hodge (formerly Van de Camp), Lynette Scavo and Gabrielle Solis. Oh, and let's not forget Mike, Orson, Tom, Carlos, Edie, the Scavo kids, Andrew Van De Camp, Carl Meyer, and the rest of the wonderful, fictional people in fictional Fairview.
We can thank our daughter-in-law, Yesica, for getting us addicted--I mean, turned on to that show. As if I didn't have enough distractions as a writer. And as any writer can tell you, those of us who write stories as our life's work don't need any more distractions. Now, in addition to my Real Life, which includes being a wife, mom, grandma, working full-time, hitting the gym, checking e-mail fifty million times a day and making homemade pickles, I can look forward to my husband tempting me with these little words: "Wanna see what Bree and Orson are up to in Desperate Housewives?"
And of course, I'm a woman, so I don't just watch what is essentially a soap (albeit, a very well-written soap, with a terrific and talented cast that really makes you care about the characters) for its stories. I've also got to stop and wish there really was a Susan Meyer, so maybe I could figure out how best to raid her closet for her amazing clothes. (Not that Teri Hatcher's clothes would fit me, but again, this is fantasy!) Twice, I've paused while watching the show to look up on AllRecipes whatever scrumptious dessert one of the characters was whipping up. Can't wait to try that fruit tart! And watching Edie or Gabby set out for a morning run reminds me that I need to recharge my Ipod for my morning or evening workout.
Okay, so maybe I don't live on Wisteria Lane. But I applaud the writers of this awesome show, which makes me laugh about as often as if makes me shed a tear or sit on the edge of my seat from a suspenseful cliffhanger. And for making Wisteria Lane and its residents so real, because at heart, it's a story about families and friends and life and love and passion and dreams and forgiveness and death and living in the suburbs. One of my favorite shows so far was the one that starred Beau Bridges as a handyman who'd touched each of the housewives before he passed from this life to the next. This isn't just a TV show, but one with a lot of heart and soul.
If you've never caught the show, make a point to give it a try. But beware: It is addictive.
And don't say I didn't warn you!
Lord, I love that show. Love, as in, love, love, LOVE.
Last week I had to make an emergency visit to the dentist, leaving work early to do it. With my mouth all numbed-up and getting over a couple of weeks of pain inflicted by a malevolent wisdom tooth, what could I do at home?
So Bill and I watched a 9-hour marathon--yes, NINE hours--of Desperate Housewives on Netflix. I can't believe eight seasons have gone by and we're only now discovering Susan Meyer, Bree Hodge (formerly Van de Camp), Lynette Scavo and Gabrielle Solis. Oh, and let's not forget Mike, Orson, Tom, Carlos, Edie, the Scavo kids, Andrew Van De Camp, Carl Meyer, and the rest of the wonderful, fictional people in fictional Fairview.
We can thank our daughter-in-law, Yesica, for getting us addicted--I mean, turned on to that show. As if I didn't have enough distractions as a writer. And as any writer can tell you, those of us who write stories as our life's work don't need any more distractions. Now, in addition to my Real Life, which includes being a wife, mom, grandma, working full-time, hitting the gym, checking e-mail fifty million times a day and making homemade pickles, I can look forward to my husband tempting me with these little words: "Wanna see what Bree and Orson are up to in Desperate Housewives?"
And of course, I'm a woman, so I don't just watch what is essentially a soap (albeit, a very well-written soap, with a terrific and talented cast that really makes you care about the characters) for its stories. I've also got to stop and wish there really was a Susan Meyer, so maybe I could figure out how best to raid her closet for her amazing clothes. (Not that Teri Hatcher's clothes would fit me, but again, this is fantasy!) Twice, I've paused while watching the show to look up on AllRecipes whatever scrumptious dessert one of the characters was whipping up. Can't wait to try that fruit tart! And watching Edie or Gabby set out for a morning run reminds me that I need to recharge my Ipod for my morning or evening workout.
Okay, so maybe I don't live on Wisteria Lane. But I applaud the writers of this awesome show, which makes me laugh about as often as if makes me shed a tear or sit on the edge of my seat from a suspenseful cliffhanger. And for making Wisteria Lane and its residents so real, because at heart, it's a story about families and friends and life and love and passion and dreams and forgiveness and death and living in the suburbs. One of my favorite shows so far was the one that starred Beau Bridges as a handyman who'd touched each of the housewives before he passed from this life to the next. This isn't just a TV show, but one with a lot of heart and soul.
If you've never caught the show, make a point to give it a try. But beware: It is addictive.
And don't say I didn't warn you!
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