i am not a great "little house on the prairie" mind, mostly because i always hated the show. even at age nine, i saw it as hokey: the murky swamp-water filtered film, the pingy theme song, all those chores, none of this appealed to me. it certainly wasn't entertainment. pinfores and bonnets, pin curls, sweeping, and going to the store ... i just couldn't relate.
[i'm not sure how i related to "three's company" and "scoobie doo," but unless laura was stuffing her bra or a cow was making balloon animals out of its internal organs, these were the shows i watched after school instead.]
i must have had a few of the books. i bet they were gifts, since i'd never actively seek out reading where key characters are named "ma" and "pa" and "half pint." [definitely not after i'd been introduced to elizabeth and jessica wakefield.] and i must have read them. probably after i read everything else in the house, skimmed the wxyz encyclopedia britanica, and before the new issue of "readers digest" was shelved on the toilet tank in my parent's bathroom.
for some people there is a "little house" nostalgia, and they'll chuckle about that drunk mr. edwards and that stud almonzo wilder. these people, i'm assuming, are the target market for the "little house" theme song as a ring tones i found online today.
yesterday chuck and i were sacked out on the couch and he did a quick zip through the channels and paused at "little house" on one of those channels were most of the shows are about real live angels walking the streets and saving people from meth addictions and abuse.
ma is leaning over a large wooden crate. she has just pried it open to find her christmas present: A NEW STOVE! she drapes herself across the top of it, her bun loosening, her cheeks flushed as she considers bread rising and bloody game hens. she looks to charles, eyes moist and --
it's not from pa.
and i'm getting into this a little bit.
"it's from laura," chuck says.
ma looks at laura, buck toothed and braided. pa looks at laura.
first my nose starts to tingle. then i realize my eyes are flooding and i have gobs of snot forming making a run for the exit. "ooohhhhh! turn it! turn it!" i beg. chuck doesn't even touch the remote.
"but, how?" ma asks the rest of the ingalls, just as the oleson's are pulling up. laura has traded her horse bunny to nellie oleson for the stove.
"but she loves that horse!" ma cries. bread deflates. game hens are recessitated.
as for me: it's like i'm watching "the notebook," while listening to "goodbye my lover," chopping onions and stabbing myself in the palm with a knife that has a serrated blade. i'm sobbing.
incidentally, this will be the first of two times that i break down sobbing on sunday. i'd told chuck that i was going to make butternut squash ravioli for dinner, then waited until he was wilted and emaciated before i even considered beginning the process. i cooked the squash. mixed the ingredients. filled wonton wrappers with something that smelled pretty frigging good. a few of the raviolis stuck together. that just made me swear. when i dropped them in the boiling water, more than half of them opened or tore and soon i had a boiling pot of squash innards and a gloppy mess of sticky wontons. i stood over the cauldron weeping about the mess. then we ordered pizza.