Sunday, March 21, 2010

Stripshow on the Prairie

I think it's time I joined "Little House on the Prairie Anonymous".

It's such an old show.  It began airing in 1974 and ended in 1982.  But some television is like cheese.  It gets better with age.  TV was better back then, full of morals, happy endings, God-fearing people, and clean humor.  And what was so wrong with that?  Why did we have to shift everything to vulgar, grotesque, and immoral?

Aside from content, the plot lines are simple and easy to follow.  One episode of Little House in the Prairie is all it takes to hook me.  Even when I have no background knowledge of previous episodes I can jump right in.  Many commercials for modern shows are confusing enough and it only takes five minutes of an episode to send my head spinning with over dramatic scenarios of some doctor trying to save the life a drug addict with pin worms while one of his nurses argues with a surgeon because he's sleeping with the secretary who's already pregnant with the doctors baby.  Oi.

It's too much.

Simplicity should be celebrated.  We need a holiday for it.  There are already a plethora of holidays dedicated to dressing up our homes with tinsel, trees, stockings, painted eggs, carved pumpkins, and lights framing houses.  I need a holiday to celebrate simplicity.  Maybe that's what spring cleaning is.  Once a year as the sun comes out from winter hibernation I can come out too, open all the dusty blinds and welcome back life.  It's time to clean out old closets and cluttered desks and really enhance mine and my husbands lives by simplifying.

Wow, enough about that.  The weirdest thing just happened.  Weird may not be the best word to describe it.  Embarrassing. . . no, awkward. . .  maybe.

The winter is beginning to come to a close and that means one thing for the Rowberries.  It's gonna get HAWT!  I'm not talking about, "Hey, can we turn on a fan, it's getting a little warm in here?"  I'm talking: "Sweetie, The thermostat says it's ninety degrees!  I've already opened all the windows, and I think my shirt is melting.  See, it's dripping on the floor.  Oh, wait.  That's sweat.  Nevermind!"

As much as I've been anticipating the arrival of sunshine and tan(er) skin, the hotness of home is not quite so welcome.  Today was the first day of the season we began to feel it.  But, stupid me, I didn't think to open a window.  So naturally, the Southern sun beamed through our windows and we retained every bit of its warmth.  No, really, every bit.

It's Sunday, a day of rest, a day of relaxation, a day where I can do minimal house work because it's the Sabbath.  Paul and I got home from church at about 2:45.  The house was a bit warm, but not uncomfortable.  I made some turkey pesto grilled cheese sandwiches which turned out quite tasty.  We turned on the TV.  Hey, I have a Little House on the Prairie problem, and I know it.  And as the apartment got hotter we began pulling off our Sunday layers.  Not wanting to miss the action of Miss Laura Ingalls I draped my skirt across a pillow and Paul's tie dropped lazily over the arm of the couch.

Eventually, Paul retreated to the back of the apartment while I opted to stay with Laura in the living room.  My laptop sat on my thighs as I attempted to write on a day where I really just wanted to nap, and as the warmth of it's battery superheated my legs the rest of my layers came off.

Yep, I was sitting in the front room wearing nothing but my undies, modest undies, but undies nonetheless, watching PBS and trying to focus on my blog.  It's not like anyone ever just pops in on us so I had no worries.

Except today was a day where someone decided to pop in on us.  I've decided to rehash the experience in a poem:
I in my undies and Paul in his shorts
Had settled right in and weren't watching sports
When out on the door step there came a "ding dong"
It pulled me from the prairie and that a lovely theme song
I ran to the office and beg Paul to answer
He had on more layers (but I threw on some pants-er. . .)
There were voices from the door and I heard my first name
I was still shirtless, isn't that lame?
My bra had gone missing but I found some pajamas
They were covered in penguins, not monkeys with bananas
I dashed to the front room to greet my sweet neighbor
I was flushed and out of breath from all of that labor
Her husband stood behind her and so did her son
This was so unexpected but I like them a ton
So, I scanned the room to assess the damage
And was mortified at the clothes left unmanaged
I grabbed them real quick and tossed them back with the wash
And apologized profusely for the scene that they caused
The conversation was nice and the company, exquisite
But it was getting late so they ended the visit
I was a little embarrassed at the timing today
But I guess that irony doesn't rest on Sunday

Eventually, I'll post the finished product, but here's a sneak-peak of a top secret project I'm working on:


  1. I love Little House on the Prairie!

  2. The moral of the story is.... You have to always be ready for company in Utah. Or Murphy's Law says that the likelihood of receiving unannounced guests increases as the amount of clothing decresses. (you can quote me...wink wink)

  3. Sandy, is that the voice of experience?? ;-)