Two Things Making Me Grin Today

1) FeministHulk's Twitter feed, featuring such tweets as:

"HULK SMASH DOMINANT GENDER PARADIGM! PUT DEBRIS IN COMPOST PILE TO FERTILIZE LITTLE HULK GARDEN OUT BACK"

"HULK STAND IN AWE OF ALL KINDS OF FEMINISM. HULK LOVE ALL FEMINIST ALLIES, EVEN WHEN WE DISAGREE. HULK HAVE PLURALISTIC SMASH!"

"IF HULK CAN’T DANCE, HULK NOT WANT TO BE PART OF YOUR REVOLUTION."

2) This charm from James Avery:



Chris and I spotted it in the store recently and both instantly came up with the same quote. "Just thinkin' of John, Jackie... Just thinkin' of John."

Life List #61: Taste 1,000 Kinds of Cheeses

While grocery shopping yesterday, I realized that Central Market, my favorite grocery store in town, will take me a long way in my desire to taste 1,000 kinds of cheeses. They have a fabulous sampling policy: if it's in the store and you want to try it, they'll open it for you. They also put out tons of samples during the day, including two types of cheese. This will help me do #61 without negating #40 (Pay off our credit card debt.).

Yesterday, I tried these three varieties: Argentine Gruyerito, Argentine Pategras Mar Del Plata, and Hennings Cheddar Cheese Curds.

To be honest, my cheese compulsion caused me to snarf down the first two varieties without paying much attention to their nuances. Cookie, meet Monster.



From what I can remember, the Argentine Gruyerito reminded me of a very subtle Swiss cheese (which makes sense, Gruyère being from Switzerland). The excellently-named Quesos Argentinos website tells me that this cheese comes from the Pampean region and differs from its European predecessor because of the weight of the mold and ripening time. It was good, though I prefer a much bolder taste.



The Argentine Pategras Mar Del Plata was even milder than the Gruyerito, also evocative of Swiss cheese. I ate two or three little pieces but it still barely left an impression on me.



Chris brought this one to me as something new, since neither of us had never tried cheese curds before. The Market employee refreshed my memory -- cheese curds are regular cheese before it's pressed and shaped into the forms we're used to seeing. They were delicious, like concentrated cheddar cheese into slightly airy little clumps that are dangerously snackable. They were also very salty, which I love.

I decided that the first two cheeses would still count toward my total, since I did register at least that I was eating something. I promise to pay more attention next time.

P.S. Dear Lord, please don't let me become lactose intolerant before I complete #61. I love cheese so much.

The Last Time

We celebrate and take photos of the remarkable firsts in a lifetime: first smile, first steps, first day of school, first love... but what about the lasts? The last day of a certain decade, the last child leaving home, the last visit to your childhood home before it sold.

Writing this feels irreverent. I get a strong sense that we're supposed to hide these "lasts" away from the world. We're supposed to remember someone or ourselves as we used to be, not as the declining physical self that has had many of its lasts. To take a photo of a dying person or beloved pet seems morbid, but aren't our lasts as meaningful as our firsts? It feels dishonest to ignore the other bookend, the mirror marker of all those firsts. Loss, death, departure -- these have as much to do with life as do joy, celebration, growth.



This is on my mind because our 16-year-old dog is dying. There's no determined date or cause of death, he's not sick; it's just that he's wonderfully old and has lived a good life. Isn't that how all of us would love to die? His body is slowed, he's eating less, sleeping more, and withdrawing from this world. After a bout of old dog vestibular disease in November, he walks with a pronounced lean and tilted head, which just makes him look even sweeter and more fragile.

It breaks my heart to watch our best doggie friend fade, knowing there's nothing I can do to keep him here longer than he's meant to stay. A smart woman I know once said that loving an old dog is a great way to learn how to love with your heart wide open, vulnerable and present. I feel what she means now.

Maybe we downplay our "lasts" because we usually don't know that we're doing something for the last time until later, after the loss. We can define our firsts looking forward, but the lasts must be seen in hindsight. The last time we saw a loved one, the last cuddle with our old dog, the last time we swam in the ocean. Maybe it's enough that we live these things as fully as we can in that moment. Even if a certain "last" is less than it might have been if you'd known it was the last, we do our best to just be there.

Life List #49: Visit the "Friday Night Lights" set

I get a little thrill when I see these yellow signs around our neighborhood. It means "Friday Night Lights" is shooting nearby. For 10 years living in New York City, it was no big surprise to find a crew shooting on my street. Somehow, it feels different in Austin, which is just as cool as New York but not as frequently portrayed in TV and film. I love this town, and I love the way FNL brings it to the screen (albeit as a fictional small town).

Chris and I fell for the show hard when we moved back to Texas; we sucked down the first three seasons like iced tea in July. So I was over-the-moon thrilled when I got called to be an extra on the show, fulfilling #49 on my Life List.

I spent eight hours yesterday as an extra on the FNL TV show set in South Austin. (I managed to get all of the adorable fan-girl squeeeeee-ing out of my system before I showed up for work.) This particular Life List item came from my constant desire to go behind the scenes and see how things work, especially my favorite things. The possibility that I might actually be seen on screen in an episode is just icing on the cake.

No cameras were allowed on the closed set, but I won't need photos to remember the experience. Everyone I met was friendly and clearly great at their jobs. I'm dazzled but not surprised by how many talented people it takes to make a television show; from directors to production assistants to wardrobe assistants and on, these crew members bust their butts every day to create the simple, beautiful experience that I love watching.

The extras wranglers placed me in a few different scenes, including one that placed me close enough to the principal actors to get a sense of how the show's distinct style is created by the camera team. I got to peek at "video village," which is where the director, producer, script supervisor, and other people watch the monitors to see what's being captured by the cameras, and I saw what the footage from the two Super 16mm cameras looks like before it's edited and processed. (Hint: it looks fantastic.)

I won't lie: it was also utterly thrilling to stand so close to Kyle Chandler in character as Coach Taylor. It's a rich pleasure to watch talented people work, especially when they're also so handsome.

What? A girl can't get a little starstruck?

I was also lucky enough to be there for a particularly poignant moment -- it was one principal actor's final day on set. (I won't risk any spoilers by naming him.) He smiled at me and my fellow extras as he left, and I waved goodbye to both the actor and the character he created.

I'm a writer and business owner now, but I grew up in the theater, so I recognized the bittersweet casualness with which the actor saluted us and walked away. You work closely with a team of creative people, you become like a family, and you create an alternate world together. You invite other people into that world, that story, and then it's time for it to end, for you to move on. It feels like a sped-up version of a life, and even though that sting at the end of a project is vivid, the high is so delicious that you do it over and over again.

Season four of Friday Night Lights is currently airing on NBC on Fridays (episodes are also available on Hulu), and you can watch seasons 1-3 on Netflix View Instantly. And by "you can" I mean "you should." You don't even need to like football. I'm still shaky on the basic rules of the game -- but it doesn't matter, because this show is about love, community, family, marriage, and beautiful people.

Extend a Hot Game!*

This is why I love Christopher Gandin Le:



Yes, he's playing Centipede on a 1983 Atari 5200 console with an original Trak-Pad.

In Half-Price Books last week, he spotted this gem on hold behind the counter, and asked the staff to put a secondary hold on it, which they did. After waiting patiently until this morning, when the first person's hold ended, we brought it home happily, enjoying the double-takes from customers walking into the store.

Amazingly, it works! We spent half of our Monday playing 27 year old video games. I'd completely forgotten how close to the TV you had to sit with these old systems in order to use the controllers. Was it just because TVs were so much smaller then? How did we emerge from the 80s with our vision intact?! All I know is that we need bean bags stat, because the floor isn't as comfortable as it used to be back then.

Also, did you know that Super Breakout had a plot? It did!


You're the pilot of a super-powered space shuttle and you're blazing a path through distant superclusters at incredible space-age speed. The uncharted planet Ieris is your destination. You know from preliminary briefing that Ieris is surrounded by a mysterious, colorful force field. Astronomers have photographed the iridescent force field with high-powered telescopic cameras. There is much conjecture on Earth as to what the wall of colors around Ieris might be, but no one is certain.

Your mission is to break up the force field. Your space ship is equipped with special hardware to help you complete this important assignment. As you smash out the bright-colored matter, sensors will analyze it, grade it and relay the results back to scientists on Earth. You, too, will see the scores.

Your computer signals that Ieris is dead ahead. A brilliant band of colors flashes into view. Wow! This is more startling and impressive than any of the photos you saw back on Earth. Your hands eagerly grip the controls as you
prepare to blast through!

Earth's Intrepid Space Explorers:


Check that special hardware! (A straight line that only travels horizontally and a bouncing ball!)

So thank you, mysterious person who did not pick up the Atari game system. You made our Memorial Day highly memorable by leaving us a time machine of memories.

*This phrase brought to you by the Atari game guides, which brag about the awesome way to save your game in mid-play: press Pause.