I have to confess, if I wasn't already 4 seasons deep (and deeply committed) to Sons of Anarchy, and if last night's season premiere were the very first episode I ever saw, I'd never watch the show again. Good gravy the body count was high. At least 3 times I gasped and covered my mouth with my hands. If I were Jax Teller, I'd be skipping town, losing the leather, changing my name to Dwight Vanderloop and selling appliances somewhere nondescript and quiet. (Kids! Don't become gangsters! Nothing good comes of it!) I'm still processing all the violence and wondering where this season will bring us.
Also? It's jarring to see Katey Sagal as Gemma at night and then catch her as Peg Bundy a few hours later while flipping through the channels to find a weather report. Speaking of weather, how weird is it that the mold count is through the roof when it's been so dry?
I tossed and turned, sleepless last night from my mind getting boggled. Did anyone else see the gorgeous crescent moon? And the buzz of crickets--I shall miss the sounds of summertime. Barefoot with windows wide open--best kind of season I know.
In other news, Mr. T ran in his 2nd cross country meet and beat his last time while running a greater distance. According to my on-the-spot reporter (and sports analyst) Mr. D, he dug in deep during the final stretch and beat out a couple other runners. To all you moms out there worried that your kid won't find their groove, I'm here to tell you that middle school is a great time for some to bloom.
Mr. B has informed me that he'd love nothing better than a chicken for his birthday next month. He'd like to be a farmer's son, and would feed her seeds and gather her eggs every day. He plans to use old fencing in our garage to build a coop to keep Jax (the dog, not the motorcycle gangster) away from her, and when the chicken dies, we'll have it for supper. Mr. D explained to him that this would require a rooster as well.
Mr. B: Why? All I want is one chicken.
Mr. D: But you can't have eggs with only one chicken. That's not how it works. You need a rooster too.
Mr. B: I don't understand.
Mr. D: You need a male and a female to make the eggs.
Mr. B (stunned by this revelation of sexual reproductive systems, and, probably, where eggs come from): You mean chickens are like humans? That really stinks.
Spill it, reader. Did you watch SOA last night? Were you as stunned and disturbed as me, or am I getting old and prudish?