Kimberly Nee's Blog, page 4
March 14, 2013
Three months...
have passed since the horrible events of December 14, 2012 at the Sandy Hook Elementary School.
I still think about those kids, every day. I remember their names and I've seen their faces and I've read about their painfully short lives. Noah Pozner still haunts me, still makes me hold my own son a little closer. Newtown made me a better mother. A more patient mother. A mother who is never too busy to take a few minutes out to watch something silly or listen to an age-old knock-knock joke that I've heard a thousand times and probably told myself when I was seven. A mother who swallows her exasperation when it's an hour past bedtime and my son is calling me yet again. Only this time, it's for one more hug, which is gladly given, with an extra squeeze thrown in. My son and I call it the enormous, tree-monkey hug. And there are never enough now.
For anyone who staunchly opposes any sort of gun control in the wake of what happened at Sandy Hook Elementary School, I urge you to read this blog - written by Noah Pozner's grandmother. See for yourself, by reading through her Noah posts, just what happens when a six year old is murdered, along with his nineteen classmates and six other adults. Read the links concerning what gunshot wounds can actually do to a little boy. Read about the grief and the shock and the anger and even the guilt. And then come back and tell me why assault weapons shouldn't be banned, why gun control laws are just fine the way they are, and why universal background checks aren't necessary.
Go on. I'll wait.
I still think about those kids, every day. I remember their names and I've seen their faces and I've read about their painfully short lives. Noah Pozner still haunts me, still makes me hold my own son a little closer. Newtown made me a better mother. A more patient mother. A mother who is never too busy to take a few minutes out to watch something silly or listen to an age-old knock-knock joke that I've heard a thousand times and probably told myself when I was seven. A mother who swallows her exasperation when it's an hour past bedtime and my son is calling me yet again. Only this time, it's for one more hug, which is gladly given, with an extra squeeze thrown in. My son and I call it the enormous, tree-monkey hug. And there are never enough now.
For anyone who staunchly opposes any sort of gun control in the wake of what happened at Sandy Hook Elementary School, I urge you to read this blog - written by Noah Pozner's grandmother. See for yourself, by reading through her Noah posts, just what happens when a six year old is murdered, along with his nineteen classmates and six other adults. Read the links concerning what gunshot wounds can actually do to a little boy. Read about the grief and the shock and the anger and even the guilt. And then come back and tell me why assault weapons shouldn't be banned, why gun control laws are just fine the way they are, and why universal background checks aren't necessary.
Go on. I'll wait.
March 13, 2013
Progress
The worst thing about going back to the gym after a long absence is how frickin' sore you get the next day. I went back last Friday, and egads, it was Monday before I could move without any pain. But now, here we are, ache-free (for the most part. I have bad knees, so they always hurt.) And I'm already down two pounds. Woo hoo!
I've belonged to my gym since 1998. A lot of the staff has changed over since then (not too long ago, I saw a former kickboxing instructor in the ER, where she's now a nurse,) and a lot of the clientele has as well. But it's always funny when I see someone I remember from way back when I first joined. I don't know them by name, or really to do much more then smile and say hello to, but I remember their faces.
It's a women only gym, which I love. Way back in the Stone Age, I belonged to a Bally's (it was Jack LaLanne when I first joined and then morphed) and I hated going there. It was always crowded and not one session would go by where some musclehead didn't try to hit on me. Ugh.) I far prefer not having any guys around while I'm sweating my ass off on the elliptical or stumbling my way through a mile run on the treadmill, thankyouverymuch. In my gym, no one bothers you and that's how I like it. I like putting on my iPod and tuning out the rest of the world for two hours. It's me time. Really-good-for-me me time.
I'm also making progress on Dance with the Devil, which is good because I'm sick of looking at it and I want to get it out the door. Spring Break is coming up soon and I want it finished before the kidlets are home for that week, because I know nothing will get done. :D
I've belonged to my gym since 1998. A lot of the staff has changed over since then (not too long ago, I saw a former kickboxing instructor in the ER, where she's now a nurse,) and a lot of the clientele has as well. But it's always funny when I see someone I remember from way back when I first joined. I don't know them by name, or really to do much more then smile and say hello to, but I remember their faces.
It's a women only gym, which I love. Way back in the Stone Age, I belonged to a Bally's (it was Jack LaLanne when I first joined and then morphed) and I hated going there. It was always crowded and not one session would go by where some musclehead didn't try to hit on me. Ugh.) I far prefer not having any guys around while I'm sweating my ass off on the elliptical or stumbling my way through a mile run on the treadmill, thankyouverymuch. In my gym, no one bothers you and that's how I like it. I like putting on my iPod and tuning out the rest of the world for two hours. It's me time. Really-good-for-me me time.
I'm also making progress on Dance with the Devil, which is good because I'm sick of looking at it and I want to get it out the door. Spring Break is coming up soon and I want it finished before the kidlets are home for that week, because I know nothing will get done. :D
March 8, 2013
Changes
Every so often. things just need to change. I'm not normally a big fan of changes because for me, most of the changes in my life have been really awful ones. A few have been wonderful, of course - like getting married, having my kids (for the most part. :D) But I'm not one who easily embraces change. Not usually, anyway.
So, we're going away in a few weeks and I was getting out some stuff to try on - clothes from last summer. We're going to visit family in Florida and while I understand it's been cold there (to them, that is. I laugh when I hear it's 50 degrees there and they're all bundled up like Eskimos,) it's still warmer than it is here. So I'm going to need the warm weather stuff I haven't worn since last summer.
Imagine my shock and horror when some things. Didn't. Fit.
I used to be such a gym rat. At one point, I was hitting the gym 7 days a week.
But that was then, this is now. Now, much as I do like to work out, I'm not nearly as diligent about it.
Which is why some things. Didn't. Fit.
**sigh**
So today is the day for change. I'm going back to the gym.
God help me.
I hope I'm not too sore tomorrow.
So, we're going away in a few weeks and I was getting out some stuff to try on - clothes from last summer. We're going to visit family in Florida and while I understand it's been cold there (to them, that is. I laugh when I hear it's 50 degrees there and they're all bundled up like Eskimos,) it's still warmer than it is here. So I'm going to need the warm weather stuff I haven't worn since last summer.
Imagine my shock and horror when some things. Didn't. Fit.
I used to be such a gym rat. At one point, I was hitting the gym 7 days a week.
But that was then, this is now. Now, much as I do like to work out, I'm not nearly as diligent about it.
Which is why some things. Didn't. Fit.
**sigh**
So today is the day for change. I'm going back to the gym.
God help me.
I hope I'm not too sore tomorrow.
February 18, 2013
Downton Abbey Finale
First of all, I'd love to thank TV Guide. Not only does the format of the magazine totally suck (I wish they'd go back to the smaller size) but they spoiled the season finale of Downton Abbey for me a few weeks ago by writing about how Dan Stevens, who plays Matthew Crawley, wouldn't be back for Season Four. No spoiler alert. No warning. Just the little blurb that he'd left the show.
So weeks before the finale, I knew he had one way to go and that would be death. He's the Earl of Grantham's heir. They had to kill him off. And so, they did. Granted, it was at the end of the finale, so it didn't cast a total pall over the show, but I knew it was coming and spent the entire time thinking, "He's going to die here. No, wait, it'll happen here. No, definitely now."
Ugh.
All in all, I thought the show was done well (although I did read on ET online that Julian Fellowes is going to be writing a series for NBC and as a result, may not do as much writing for Downton Abbey. So, we'll see what happens there) even with knowing Matthew's fate - which was even more poignant since he'd just met his baby son. :(
I'm curious to see what happens now. I love this show and think the writing is fairly good, even if house of Grantham goes through maids like Spinal Tap went through drummers. And I think I missed something because at one point, Anna mentioned something about having a surprise for Bates, but I never found out what said surprise was. And it's possible I missed it because my son was having one of those nights, and I ended up running up and down the stairs about twenty times. But it'll all work out in the end, since I will be ordering Season 3 any day now.
I'm going to miss Matthew, but I am so looking forward to the next season. I don't know if it'll be the last one, but I know I'll enjoy it. :D
Blog posts may be a little sporadic right now, as I'm knee-deep in a new project - another Sebastiano book. It's been a while since I've hung out with this family and I've missed them. I began it last week and I'm already nearing 30k words, so the story is moving right along. I've been getting in some amazing writing sessions and the story is progressing nicely.
So weeks before the finale, I knew he had one way to go and that would be death. He's the Earl of Grantham's heir. They had to kill him off. And so, they did. Granted, it was at the end of the finale, so it didn't cast a total pall over the show, but I knew it was coming and spent the entire time thinking, "He's going to die here. No, wait, it'll happen here. No, definitely now."
Ugh.
All in all, I thought the show was done well (although I did read on ET online that Julian Fellowes is going to be writing a series for NBC and as a result, may not do as much writing for Downton Abbey. So, we'll see what happens there) even with knowing Matthew's fate - which was even more poignant since he'd just met his baby son. :(
I'm curious to see what happens now. I love this show and think the writing is fairly good, even if house of Grantham goes through maids like Spinal Tap went through drummers. And I think I missed something because at one point, Anna mentioned something about having a surprise for Bates, but I never found out what said surprise was. And it's possible I missed it because my son was having one of those nights, and I ended up running up and down the stairs about twenty times. But it'll all work out in the end, since I will be ordering Season 3 any day now.
I'm going to miss Matthew, but I am so looking forward to the next season. I don't know if it'll be the last one, but I know I'll enjoy it. :D
Blog posts may be a little sporadic right now, as I'm knee-deep in a new project - another Sebastiano book. It's been a while since I've hung out with this family and I've missed them. I began it last week and I'm already nearing 30k words, so the story is moving right along. I've been getting in some amazing writing sessions and the story is progressing nicely.
February 14, 2013
Happy Valentine's Day
I've always been a big believer in love. What romance writer isn't, really? That's one reason I've never understood why romance novels, and to a certain extent, those who write them, get looked down upon like the bastard stepchildren (does that even make sense?) of the writing world.
We write about love. Falling in love. The power of love. How love can heal wounds we can't even see. And why is that something to be snickered at? No one asked a murder mystery writer if they've done their research by killing people. Yet, I'll bet that just about every romance writer out there has been kidded about doing their research for their love scenes ("betcha your husband loves when you do that research, doesn't he? Nudge, nudge. Wink, wink. Say no more.") People look down their noses at romance as being easy to write (Oh, sure, it's a piece of cake.) Being formulaic (which is true, of course to a certain extent. But most genre fiction is written to a certain formula - can you imagine said murder mystery not revealing the murderer at the end?
But this isn't a post about how romance is sneered at.
I'm a big believer in love - I've been happily married to my husband for almost 16 (yikes!) years. I knew the first time we went out, he was the man I'd marry. We'll be together twenty years in July of 2014.
But I'm not a big believer in St. Valentine's Day. It's like Mother's Day, or Father's Day - a holiday created simply to sell more stuff. Do I honestly think that, if my husband doesn't give me a three carat diamond open hear necklace today, he doesn't love me? If he treated me like garbage the other 364 days of the year, would that necklace make up for all that?
No and no.
It isn't about giving jewelry or roses or teddy bears today. Today is one day of the year and it's the sum that matters. It's my husband doing something like making dinner one night because I'm locked away in my office working on something. It's his taking the kids down the shore for a weekend because I'm on deadline and need to finish. It's his just letting me cry when I found out my mother was sick. It's his just listening and being there and my doing it in return. It's being a team, when things are going well and when they aren't. It's about facing things together and laughing when things are going to hell all around you. Don't get me wrong, jewelry and things are nice, but in the end, they are only things.
Happy Valentine's Day.
We write about love. Falling in love. The power of love. How love can heal wounds we can't even see. And why is that something to be snickered at? No one asked a murder mystery writer if they've done their research by killing people. Yet, I'll bet that just about every romance writer out there has been kidded about doing their research for their love scenes ("betcha your husband loves when you do that research, doesn't he? Nudge, nudge. Wink, wink. Say no more.") People look down their noses at romance as being easy to write (Oh, sure, it's a piece of cake.) Being formulaic (which is true, of course to a certain extent. But most genre fiction is written to a certain formula - can you imagine said murder mystery not revealing the murderer at the end?
But this isn't a post about how romance is sneered at.
I'm a big believer in love - I've been happily married to my husband for almost 16 (yikes!) years. I knew the first time we went out, he was the man I'd marry. We'll be together twenty years in July of 2014.
But I'm not a big believer in St. Valentine's Day. It's like Mother's Day, or Father's Day - a holiday created simply to sell more stuff. Do I honestly think that, if my husband doesn't give me a three carat diamond open hear necklace today, he doesn't love me? If he treated me like garbage the other 364 days of the year, would that necklace make up for all that?
No and no.
It isn't about giving jewelry or roses or teddy bears today. Today is one day of the year and it's the sum that matters. It's my husband doing something like making dinner one night because I'm locked away in my office working on something. It's his taking the kids down the shore for a weekend because I'm on deadline and need to finish. It's his just letting me cry when I found out my mother was sick. It's his just listening and being there and my doing it in return. It's being a team, when things are going well and when they aren't. It's about facing things together and laughing when things are going to hell all around you. Don't get me wrong, jewelry and things are nice, but in the end, they are only things.
Happy Valentine's Day.
February 7, 2013
'Sup?
I'm finally back in the land of the living. For the most part, anyway. I finally caved and went to the doctor on Monday, since I'd really had enough of feeling so lousy. Wouldn't you know, what started out as a cold morphed into a sinus infection. No big surprise there, as I'm prone to them and ear infections. When I smoked, I used to get bronchitis like clockwork, which I don't miss at all.
And as I creep back into the world of the living, I'm back to work on a few new projects. I don't want to say much, since one is ins in the early stages and I have had problems with what I think are really great ideas petering out by 20 or 30 pages into the book. So mum's the word until it gets beyond that, but I will say that it's been fun so far.
The sick has been weaving its way through my house, though. My daughter's been sick off and on for the last two weeks, and my other half started with it on Monday. I can't wait for this winter to end. I'm waving the white flag and hooping Punxsatawney Phil is right on the money. Spring can't get here soon enough.
And as I creep back into the world of the living, I'm back to work on a few new projects. I don't want to say much, since one is ins in the early stages and I have had problems with what I think are really great ideas petering out by 20 or 30 pages into the book. So mum's the word until it gets beyond that, but I will say that it's been fun so far.
The sick has been weaving its way through my house, though. My daughter's been sick off and on for the last two weeks, and my other half started with it on Monday. I can't wait for this winter to end. I'm waving the white flag and hooping Punxsatawney Phil is right on the money. Spring can't get here soon enough.
February 1, 2013
Still Sick (No, Really. I Am.)
And it really sucks.
REALLY
SUCKS
I was starting to feel better over the weekend, which was a good thing because I'd gotten completely caught up on Downton Abbey, so I was out of new stuff to watch. I've been debating about getting the third season and just saying the hell with waiting to see how this season plays out, but in the end, I decided not.
And then Tuesday night, my throat felt a little scratchy. No problem. My head was all stuffed up. It was just probably from that.
I realized otherwise when I woke up at 3:30 in the morning with my throat hurting even worse than it did last week. I felt like I'd been hit by a truck. Forget sleeping. I gathered up my ER on DVD (I'm working my way through it again. I was on Season 11 Tuesday night/Wednesday morning), put on my fleecy, super cozy bathrobe, got me some juice (Juicy Juice makes the best grape juice ever, btw) and when downstairs so I wouldn't wake my husband.
I finally fell asleep around 5AM. My son woke me at a little before 8 with a kiss (he's so adorable that way. It's what keeps me from killing him most days) and after he left for school at 8AM, I staggered back upstairs, where I promptly fell back asleep until after ten. From that point on, it was impossible to stay awake more than a half hour. I kept dozing off. I ran a fever. It was awful.
By yesterday, I felt a little better. I only napped once. The fever broke. My throat no longer hurts. My nose has (finally) stopped running. Now if only this awful Typhoid Mary cough would go away.
Today's the first time in over a week that I've actually felt well. Hopefully that means I'm kicking this awful cold (I don't think it was the flu, or if it was, it was a very mild flu.) And hopefully that means I'll be up and blogging on a regular basis again real soon.
Keep your fingers crossed.
REALLY
SUCKS
I was starting to feel better over the weekend, which was a good thing because I'd gotten completely caught up on Downton Abbey, so I was out of new stuff to watch. I've been debating about getting the third season and just saying the hell with waiting to see how this season plays out, but in the end, I decided not.
And then Tuesday night, my throat felt a little scratchy. No problem. My head was all stuffed up. It was just probably from that.
I realized otherwise when I woke up at 3:30 in the morning with my throat hurting even worse than it did last week. I felt like I'd been hit by a truck. Forget sleeping. I gathered up my ER on DVD (I'm working my way through it again. I was on Season 11 Tuesday night/Wednesday morning), put on my fleecy, super cozy bathrobe, got me some juice (Juicy Juice makes the best grape juice ever, btw) and when downstairs so I wouldn't wake my husband.
I finally fell asleep around 5AM. My son woke me at a little before 8 with a kiss (he's so adorable that way. It's what keeps me from killing him most days) and after he left for school at 8AM, I staggered back upstairs, where I promptly fell back asleep until after ten. From that point on, it was impossible to stay awake more than a half hour. I kept dozing off. I ran a fever. It was awful.
By yesterday, I felt a little better. I only napped once. The fever broke. My throat no longer hurts. My nose has (finally) stopped running. Now if only this awful Typhoid Mary cough would go away.
Today's the first time in over a week that I've actually felt well. Hopefully that means I'm kicking this awful cold (I don't think it was the flu, or if it was, it was a very mild flu.) And hopefully that means I'll be up and blogging on a regular basis again real soon.
Keep your fingers crossed.
January 27, 2013
Sick
It's been a rough week in my house. Last weekend, the Girl started with a cold. No problem. She handles them a lot better now than she did when she was a little kid (when I'd be up all night with her because she refused to sleep.) But I was still cursing myself because while the Boy got a flu shot in October, I didn't make her get one, and when her temperature went up to 100 degrees, I was really wishing I'd gotten her one. But fortunately, her temp was back to normal by the morning and it turned out to be just a cold.
However, when kids get germs, they are VERY generous with them. I spent most of Wednesday cleaning - dusting, vacuuming, waiting for my DVDs of Downton Abbey to arrive (which they did that afternoon - woot!) and by late afternoon, my throat felt a little scratchy. Kind of like when you've been at a concert or a Giants game screaming your head off.
Oh.
No.
By Thursday morning, my throat felt like I'd swallowed a dozen razor blades - hot and raw and just awful. I can tolerate fevers, coughing, my head feeling like it's going to explode, but I despise sore throats. They make me grouchy. No, I'll be honest, they make me downright bitchy. And when I'm sick, I just want to be left alone. Throw in a sore throat on top of it, and don't even look at me unless you want me to rip your face off. I'm a lousy patient and fortunately, my husband and I've been married long enough that he knows the best thing to do is stay faaaaar away from me.
So I spent all day Thursday and Friday in bed, waiting for death to come get me. While I waited, I got caught up entirely on Downton Abbey and now I know exactly who everyone is and what's happened to them prior to Season Three. And, even better? Every night, my seven year old son came up to sing Soft Kitty (fans of The Big Bang Theory will understand) to me, which totally made being sick worthwhile.
I still feel pretty blah - now I'm all stuffed up and coughing like a TB patient, so I can't guarantee I'll be back to regular blogging this week, but I will be back next week (in February. EEK! The year is already flying by!)
However, when kids get germs, they are VERY generous with them. I spent most of Wednesday cleaning - dusting, vacuuming, waiting for my DVDs of Downton Abbey to arrive (which they did that afternoon - woot!) and by late afternoon, my throat felt a little scratchy. Kind of like when you've been at a concert or a Giants game screaming your head off.
Oh.
No.
By Thursday morning, my throat felt like I'd swallowed a dozen razor blades - hot and raw and just awful. I can tolerate fevers, coughing, my head feeling like it's going to explode, but I despise sore throats. They make me grouchy. No, I'll be honest, they make me downright bitchy. And when I'm sick, I just want to be left alone. Throw in a sore throat on top of it, and don't even look at me unless you want me to rip your face off. I'm a lousy patient and fortunately, my husband and I've been married long enough that he knows the best thing to do is stay faaaaar away from me.
So I spent all day Thursday and Friday in bed, waiting for death to come get me. While I waited, I got caught up entirely on Downton Abbey and now I know exactly who everyone is and what's happened to them prior to Season Three. And, even better? Every night, my seven year old son came up to sing Soft Kitty (fans of The Big Bang Theory will understand) to me, which totally made being sick worthwhile.
I still feel pretty blah - now I'm all stuffed up and coughing like a TB patient, so I can't guarantee I'll be back to regular blogging this week, but I will be back next week (in February. EEK! The year is already flying by!)
January 23, 2013
When I'm Not Writing...
My mother was a crocheter (everyone in my family and anyone she knew who had a baby got at least one handmade blanket. When I was pregnant with my daughter, my mom crocheted three different blankets for her, in neutral shades and different grades of wool. The Girl is now 12 and she still uses those blankets.)
When I was a kid, Mom taught me how to crochet as well. However, I'm sorry to report that I'm terrible at it. I could do a basic chain, but anything more than that, and I pulled the stitches too tight and the piece curled. Boo. Hiss.
Fast forward to 2008. For some reason, I just decided I wanted to learn how to knit. Trouble was, I didn't know any knitters. No problem, right? There's got to be some sort of learn-to-knit book out there. So, the next time I went to Michael's, I bought myself a book on learning to knit. And as luck would have it, turns out I knit right-handed (My left hand is the dominant one, but I'd say I'm ambidextrous as I can write equally with both hands and there are things I can't do left handed.) After a few missteps, I figured out how to cast on, and learned to knit and to purl, and the stitches.
And now? I've lost count of how many afghans I've knitted. I've taken my mother's role in baby-blanket knitting (my 2 year old nephew finally received his blanket for Christmas this year.) My most complicated afghan was one I made for my mother in law a few years ago - in the Irish Fisherman pattern. It took me nearly a year, but it's one of my favorites. I'm working on one for me, but I only work on it here and there, so I don't plan on it being finished any time soon.
I love to knit. It's relaxing (although I did hurt my wrist a few years back, pushing to get a project done in time for my other nephew's birth. I made it, but ow.) It's relatively inexpensive as far as hobbies go. And it isn't nearly as difficult as it looks. But I haven't attempted anything too complicated, like a sweater - at least not yet. I have been coveting a pair of alpaca wool socks, so I'm thinking that might be my next project. I just need to find a place that sells alpaca wool We have a few farms near where I live, so I'll be haunting them sometime in the near future.
When I was a kid, Mom taught me how to crochet as well. However, I'm sorry to report that I'm terrible at it. I could do a basic chain, but anything more than that, and I pulled the stitches too tight and the piece curled. Boo. Hiss.
Fast forward to 2008. For some reason, I just decided I wanted to learn how to knit. Trouble was, I didn't know any knitters. No problem, right? There's got to be some sort of learn-to-knit book out there. So, the next time I went to Michael's, I bought myself a book on learning to knit. And as luck would have it, turns out I knit right-handed (My left hand is the dominant one, but I'd say I'm ambidextrous as I can write equally with both hands and there are things I can't do left handed.) After a few missteps, I figured out how to cast on, and learned to knit and to purl, and the stitches.
And now? I've lost count of how many afghans I've knitted. I've taken my mother's role in baby-blanket knitting (my 2 year old nephew finally received his blanket for Christmas this year.) My most complicated afghan was one I made for my mother in law a few years ago - in the Irish Fisherman pattern. It took me nearly a year, but it's one of my favorites. I'm working on one for me, but I only work on it here and there, so I don't plan on it being finished any time soon.
I love to knit. It's relaxing (although I did hurt my wrist a few years back, pushing to get a project done in time for my other nephew's birth. I made it, but ow.) It's relatively inexpensive as far as hobbies go. And it isn't nearly as difficult as it looks. But I haven't attempted anything too complicated, like a sweater - at least not yet. I have been coveting a pair of alpaca wool socks, so I'm thinking that might be my next project. I just need to find a place that sells alpaca wool We have a few farms near where I live, so I'll be haunting them sometime in the near future.
January 21, 2013
Downton Abbey
I'm not much of a television watcher - although I do watch a lot of TV on DVD - and last fall, I kept hearing about Downton Abbey and how good it is. At first, I thought it was called DownTOWN Abbey and really didn't quite understand all the fuss. And it's on PBS. The only thing I ever watch on PBS are Ken Burns documentaries and, back in the 80s, Monty Python reruns.
So two weeks ago, amid all the fuss about the show's return, I figured I'd give it a try. I like England. I like history. I don't know much about the early 20th century, but what the hell? So I tuned in.
How was I not watching this show? The history nerd in me screams like a little fangirl and the writer part of me loves all the drama. I'm still sorting out who's who (and I've already ordered the first two seasons, so as soon as they get here, I'll totally get caught up to speed), but I have already fallen in love with this show. Those first two seasons can not get here fast enough. :D And God help anyone who bothers me between 9-10PM on Sunday nights.
So two weeks ago, amid all the fuss about the show's return, I figured I'd give it a try. I like England. I like history. I don't know much about the early 20th century, but what the hell? So I tuned in.
How was I not watching this show? The history nerd in me screams like a little fangirl and the writer part of me loves all the drama. I'm still sorting out who's who (and I've already ordered the first two seasons, so as soon as they get here, I'll totally get caught up to speed), but I have already fallen in love with this show. Those first two seasons can not get here fast enough. :D And God help anyone who bothers me between 9-10PM on Sunday nights.
