Who is this man and what have you done with my husband

Last night, my husband went to a mall.

He went Christmas shopping.

And he enjoyed it.

Either the world is coming to an end, or aliens have abducted my husband and taken over his body.

Two minute Tuesday: Exercise Tip of the Day

I have invented a new form of aerobic exercise, and it is guaranteed to help you burn the maximum amount of calories in the shortest amount of time possible.

1. Give a young child three glasses of juice to drink.
2. Take the child to the park.
3. Play hard for half an hour.
4. Run home in two minutes flat when the child announces she has to go potty.

The results can only be improved when the child has a play date, and all three kids have to go potty at the same time. It is far more effective than calling the Parks and Recreation department, demanding why they removed the Porta Potty.

Try this at home! And if you don't have any small children, you can borrow mine!

Good Grief

I know of fewer phrases in the English language that are as oxymoronic as this one. Is there such a thing as "Good" Grief? Ever? I know that when someone is griev-ing, it's good to let it all out and cry and hit pillows and throw tantrums or whatever you have to do to relieve your feelings, but it's not exactly fun. In fact, it's rather painful.

So is watching hours and hours of miniseries inspired by the fiction of Mr. Charles Dickens. I think I have finally made up my mind about Dickens: I really don't like him all that much. Is that a terrible thing to admit? Will my former English literature professors and classmates renounce me as an intellectual rebel?

Maybe.

But please, it's all so DEPRESSING!! Isn't ANYONE EVER HAPPY in nineteenth century England? Nicholas Nickleby certainly wasn't. Neither was Pip. Or any other character of his invention, with the rare exception of Bob Cratchit, who seems to have found the solution this great mystery.

{{Sigh}}

I'm not totally unreasonable. I understand that the entire world cannot be happy all the time. But when I read a book, I want to escape into another world that is enlightening or entertaining, but always uplifting. Dickens certainly isn't that. Much. At all.

So can someone please tell me why I couldn't turn off Masterpiece Theater's "Great Expectations" last night which I had to stay up until 1:00 to finish because I absolutely had to find out if Pip ever found any spark of happiness in his poor miserable life? I'm glad he didn't marry Estella -- I think he might have taught her how to love, but it would have been a difficult marriage in any case -- and I'm glad Biddy marries Joe after all -- but leaving the story unfinished (which is supposed to be a trick of literary genius, leaving the reader to finish the story themselves) JUST BUGS ME.

Which means I stayed awake for at least another hour trying to make sense of the whole thing, and imagining some sort of happy ending. Which, of course, was impossible because I have no idea how Dickens imagined it in the first place. Which bugs me even more, because I'd like to think I can read author's minds. Which is ridiculous.

Having said all of this....I have to admit the show was wonderfully done. I am addicted to Masterpiece Theater, and I love Justine Waddell of Wives and Daughters DVD fame (own it -- LOVE it) and Ioan Gruffud is a great actor as well.

But now, I think I better go get this all out of my system with a good dose of happy, uplifting and educational Sesame Street.