ten eggplants, over easy—that's one of our little jokes

Slept till twelve-thirty; got out of bed at one-ish; ate a bowl of cereal; showered and dressed; sat down with The Great Eskimo Vocabulary Hoax in the family room with my back to the sun (the book so far? eh.), and thought seriously about going back to bed.

Instead I went over to my mom's school to work a little magic on her computer. I give her a lot more credit with technology than she apparently deserves, but she's willing and teachable, which is a lot more than I can say for my father. We were out by three-thirty and went home to sit on the patio for a while and play with the dog. The dog has not learned the game of "fetch" yet. I didn't quite realize this was a concept a dog actually had to be taught. He's awfully sweet though. Awfully. He just leans against you. And whoomfs when he collapses in a controlled slide on the hardwood floors. Poor dog.

Together Mum and I went grocery shopping and brought home sandwiches for dinner. My dad went off to a movie (Sahara: I'd had absolutely no interest, plus it had Matthew McConaughey so I didn't care twice as much as I hadn't cared before, but upon return my dad said it was a lot of fun) and I stared blankly at last Sunday's crossword puzzles while watching N.C.I.S. (Gibbs and Tony? Um, hello? I asked if they had a father-son thing going, but my mom said not at all, so I thought, "slashy-as-hell it is then!") and House (I think I managed to take three steps before tripping and falling all over the Wilson/House; I like House—I think he and Rodney McKay would either get along smashingly or kill each other within ten minutes of meeting) and then I watched the first disc of Firefly.

I like it fine, I'm going to keep with it. I'm not in love with it, not yet. There are some things that are amazing, like the light and the music; even the Reevers are impressive in how horrifying they are, and we haven't even seen much physical evidence of it—which is sound policy for building suspense. God knows I feel suspended.

I think I love Simon. I know I love Simon and River together (and the closeness of "River" and "Reevers"? I'm just asking) and want to see them more. I want to know what the deal is with River, though I have heard things here and there about killing you with her brain. In "Bushwhacked" what did she mean by "it's a ghost"?

Nothing like wading into a fandom after everyone's had their squee and written their fics and flamed their wars. I've been recognizing people's icons left and right, like reading Shakespeare for the quotations. I didn't like Mal much after the first (double) episode, but he's fleshing out and growing on me. The overwhelming impression of them, of all of them and the show itself, is how hapless they are. They cannot, for the lives of them, catch a break. Hmm, and I can take or leave the shepherd. The shepherd is not doing much for me. Interesting things done with the language. Joss always did that, didn't he?

There was an excellent vid boniblithe linked to a little while ago that I don't think I kept on my hard drive, but it was beautiful, set to Iron & Wine's "Teeth in the Grass," and I'm only four episodes in, but it makes a lot more sense now.