In Which The Commune Has A New Favorite TV Show

Why, oh why, fuck why did I not start watching Battlestar Galactica until now? Holy shit. HOLY SHIT. People, it's good. So good. It's actually better than Buffy, and that is something.

Plus, BSG and The X-Files share so many elements that it's blowing my mind. Like hot hot hot women named Starbuck? Badass redheads with a cancer problem? Major male characters who see ghosts, and later are set up as Jesus figures? A major pairing full of not necessarily resolved sexual tension but a lot of cuddly goodness? Teh Evils stealing people's ovaries? Half-human babies as the key to everything? Clones with superpowers? So much awesome there is in this show, people.

So we've watched the entirety of the first three seasons in the past week. As I write this, we are watching Friday's episode. We're going to have to start actually waiting a week between episodes. We may die.

So, anyway. Anyone want to talk about BSG? Please?

Also, I hereby publicly tag the wife to write about our weekend shopping.

Hello there, Teh Intarwebs!

Hi, everybody. My name is Willa.

This photo was taken when I was 11 weeks and 3 days old. My mama went for an Ultrascreen test at the hospital where I'm going to be born (with my mommy for moral support). From what they say, we all went into a little room, and Mama lay down on the table. The nice technician had really good aim, so that the moment she put the sonogram wand on Mama's belly I popped right into view. Mommy immediately started crying. (She's like that. Funny, she's not even pregnant.) I put on a nice show for them all, kicking my long legs, patting my face, and jumping up and down. Actually I put on such a nice show that I gave myself the hiccups.

After a little while, Mama and Mommy got annoyed, because the technician said I wasn't in the right position. I got called recalcitrant, and ordered to move in the right position. Then Mama coughed a lot, which was really annoying, and so I stayed because they were annoying. So Mama and Mommy went for a walk, and Mama even jumped up and down, which was fun. Apparently the tech liked where I was this time, so they were able to get the photo for the test.

Mama and Mommy have been running around being silly since they got the pictures. They keep calling me by my outside-world name, and crying, and emailing these pictures to my grandparents. They even have photos on their cell phones. Silly moms.

Anyway. They just wanted me to say hi. So hi!

When TV speaks the Truth

As heard last night on How I Met Your Mother (which is basically one of two sitcoms I actually like, the other being Scrubs, and HIMYM is better now than Scrubs is) last night:

Ted (to Barney): Dude, do not pretend you're not a guy who keeps a list of all the girls he's slept with.
Marshall: I have one. It's called my marriage license. (He and Lily high-five.)

Me (to Kate): Hey, we have one of those! And our parents signed it, too!

My mom and brother's hands and our marriage certificate.

Every so often, Kate and I find ourselves talking about this time last year, when we were six week from our wedding. Every day it was an insane jumble of callingtherestaurantcallingtheloftcallingtheseamstresscallingourmothers that never seemed to end. We both have dreams, every now and then, that we're having another wedding, and we wake up and clutch each others hands. "I dreamt we were getting married again," we say. "Oh, God, let's never do that. Never ever."

But the wedding itself? Perfect, for the value of perfect that includes needing insane stories to tell about it. And now, look at us, eleven months later, settled and happy with a baby on the way. God damn, we're conventional. And we never have to have another wedding again.

More wedding photos here if you want them.