The Evolution of a Boob Tuber

Like many, my TV viewing habits have changed over the last decade or so. I grew up in the age of network television, where everyone had the same three choices of what to watch at any given time, and it seemed like most of us chose the same show. When I was very young, there weren't even any VCRs, so you watched what you watched and you missed what you missed until re-runs in the summer.

Over the years, television has evolved: first came cable channels, then the option to record shows, and finally, streaming shows on demand. Even so, for a while, my viewing habits were relatively conservative. I watched what was on or what I had chosen to record, usually week by week. I also focused primarily on new offerings, and it wasn't until the great shutdown of 2020 that binge-watching became a thing in our house.

But watching a whole show, even one with many seasons, all at once, quickly became our preference. Cliffhangers had no power over us anymore! We could find out right away what happened next, and the inconvenience of waiting for a week, or several months, or a year for new episodes caused us to avoid shows that were still in production.

Lately, though, that mindset has given way to a more hybrid approach, and there are actually several shows that we watch every week when they drop. My most recent favorite is Severance, which seems to be enjoying a moment. The last episode of Season 2 aired last week and left a lot of questions for faithful followers of the show. Since Season 3 isn't even in production yet, it's going to be a while until we get the answers.

Strangely enough? I'm kind of enjoying not knowing. I've taken the time to rewatch episodes and scenes, and there is a lot of fun speculation and cast commentary out there that offer new lenses through which to view the show. Slowing down and thinking about the writing and the acting has given me a greater appreciation for the entire production. 

And so my viewing habits are changing once more.

Sounding Board

Lucy and I ran into a neighbor and her dog a little while ago. As my big Lucy and her little Lucy sniffed each other to catch up, Betty and I had a few minutes to talk, too. "How do you like retirement so far?" she started. "Are you loving it or are you bored?"

"Um," I stalled before deciding to be honest. "I'm kind of bored. It's been a big adjustment."

Her face lit up. "I'm so glad to hear that! What a relief that someone else is feeling it too!"

We commiserated briefly about the high price of groceries, the uncertainty of social security, and the dearth of part-time employment and volunteer opportunities in our area. "I've seen a lot written lately about retirement," I told her. "Not surprisingly, we're not alone in our discontent."

She shrugged. "I can see that."

"In fact," I laughed, "Just yesterday I read that you should never retire thinking it will be like a vacation until you figure out a plan, because that won't work."

She rolled her eyes. "Who has time to figure out a plan while you're working?"

"I know, right?" I agreed.

"I know I need to move away from here," she sighed, "but I'm not sure where that would be."

"I feel the same way," I said.

"Although I do have a niece who lives in Kentucky. Her husband's family owns a huge thoroughbred horse farm, and they are very involved in racing. And bourbon," she added with a laugh. "I'm thinking I should look into relocating near them."

"That sounds pretty nice!" I replied.

"It's a red state, though," she frowned.

"Blue governor, though!" I commented.

"And I love him!" she said thoughtfully. "I really think I'm going to do some serious planning to move to Kentucky!" She turned to go. "Great talking to you!"

"See you again soon," I said, glad that at least one of us had a little more direction than before.

In the Other Cart

"I'm sorry!" I said to my fellow grocery shopper as he stood gazing over the cart I had left behind for a minute at the shelf beyond. "Let me move that!" 

"Oh, you're fine," he told me. "It's not even in my way. I'm just nosy, and I was looking at what was in there.

"Oh!" I laughed as I rolled away. "I hope it was interesting!"

A little while later, I passed him again, and this time, he had his cart with him. It was literally half full of NY strip steaks—there was over a thousand dollars' worth of meat in there! I looked down at the oranges, fennel, potatoes, and olives in my own cart and thought how boring they were in comparison.

Exhibition Game

We share a quarter-season ticket plan with some of our neighbors, which this year included an exhibition game between the Nats and the Orioles. It was a bonus game, and no one else in the group was interested, so I texted my friend Mary, who is an Orioles fan, to ask if she wanted to go with me this afternoon. "Sure!" she agreed to take off early from school, "It will be like practicing for retirement!"

And as it turned out? It was. 

The weather was lousy, but we didn't care; we expected it to clear up by game time. There was a snafu with the parking pass, which I spent a frustrating hour dealing with before just reserving parking somewhere else; all fine. 

When we arrived, the park was nearly deserted due to the weather and the time of day on a Monday. Even so, we enjoyed rattling around like we owned the place, and all the employees were super cooperative and friendly. It was their opening day for the season, and their excitement was contagious. 

The game was delayed, but Nats radio was kicking, playing hits old and older, which I was only too happy to sing along to. Mary had a great ballpark hot dog before we ditched our drizzly seats on the field level for some dryer nose-bleeds under the eaves way up in section 405. 

We chatted, admired the view of the city and the Anacostia River, and watched the raindrops bounce off the tarp for an hour, scanning the field, the dugouts, and the bullpens for any activity that might give us a clue to the fate of the game. A little after 2, a guy dressed in red corduroys and a sportcoat approached us. We were two of the only three people in the section. "I think you're in my seat," he said, waving his phone. 

Against the odds, we were, so we moved on up a couple of rows. A minute later, we saw some Orioles dragging their equipment duffles from the bullpen and decided to go. We hadn't made it to the stairs before the announcer confirmed what we suspected: the game was canceled. 

"So that's retirement," I told Mary as we ambled down the ramp toward the exit. "Not always what you expect, but if you roll with it, it can be nice in its own way."

"I like it!" she said. "I'm in."

The Troll in the Bookstore

"I'm right here! Why don't you see me?" 

I heard the words as I browsed the discounted games at a local bookstore that was temporarily closing for renovation. I spied a young man with his back to me, his phone to his ear, looking out the huge plate glass window at the end of the aisle. We were on the second floor with a clear view of the plaza below.

Among the people enjoying the spring sunshine, a young woman, also on her phone, paced the promenade, craning her neck left and right in exasperation. I could not hear her side of the conversation, but I was sure she was who he was talking to.

"You are wearing your school sweater," the guy laughed. She looked down at herself and then sat in one of the Adirondack chairs. "Why are you just sitting there? " he taunted her. "I'm waiting for you!"

She stood and scanned the area again, never once looking up. Then, she turned on her heel and headed the other way.

"No! Wait!" said the guy. "I was just playing!"

She never broke her stride, but he took off for the escalator, and a minute later, I saw him tap her on the shoulder. I didn't need a phone to understand what she said when she turned. "Asshole!"

Get Outta Here

We heard them before we saw them.

Our walking route today took us about a block from a Tesla dealership. About a hundred protesters were jammed onto the narrow sidewalk in front, chanting and waving anti-DOGE signs at the busy intersection of a main road and a couple of off- and on-ramps for the interstate. A cheer rose up every time a passing motorist honked in agreement. 

As we turned the corner, a woman approached us from the other direction. "Were you at the protest?" she asked breathlessly.

"No," I told her. "We're just walking by. They seem to have a good crowd, though."

"Well, this cute dog looks like she might have an objection or two to Elon Musk's meddling in the federal government," she laughed as she leaned over to pet Lucy. "I heard the group is planning to demonstrate every week," she said as she turned to go. "They call it 'Tesla Tuesday'! Catchy, right?"

"Easy to remember, for sure," I agreed.

As we continued on our way, I thought about the history of that particular location. It had always seemed outlandish to me when they had replaced the long-time local seafood store with a high-end car dealership fifteen years ago. First, it was Maserati, but Tesla took over the site in 2021. Suffice it to say, I haven't had the occasion to patronize either business.

Elon Musk and his wicked ways aside, I wish they would bring back the fish!

What Always Follows

The day was deceptive: from the window, bright sunlight, blue skies, and blossoms suggested a mild warmth, but in reality, the breeze was chill, and the air cold enough to keep the temperature below 50. Even so, in my hoodie and sunglasses, the weather was fine, and walking the dog was a joy rather than a chore. 

As we meandered through the neighborhood, something about the sun's slant through the newly budding trees reminded me of so many Easter Sundays in the past, when we shivered in those nippy early spring mornings in our holiday finery, hunting for eggs and posing for pictures. Still, the cold didn't really matter back then, either.

Although we may have been surprised by the crispness of the day, the promise of warmer weather was always there.