1. I was up at 5:30 this morning with the dogs and finished my morning routines and decided to watch the next episode of Homicide: Life on the Streets. As this first season develops, I can see that Barry Levinson and the other creators of this series worked, back in 1993, to distance this show from other police story programming on television. In the episode I viewed this morning, nothing happens on the streets. It's a blisteringly hot night in Baltimore and, in the heat of this night, no homicides occur. The episode focuses on the detectives cooped up in their station office with no air conditioning. The absence of policing opens the way for a deeper exploration of the complicated and complex lives of the detectives. By the end of the episode, I was near tears, so moved I had to sit for a while and steady myself, knowing that if I had ever thought about binge watching this show, I couldn't do it.
2. After I gathered myself, I called Mom to wish her a happy Mother's Day, happy that Christy would be hosting a Mother's Day dinner at her house and that my sisters and my mother would be enjoying each other's company. Every year on Mother's Day, I remember that I arrived in Kellogg from Eugene to be with Dad for the last four weeks of his life on Saturday evening, Mother's Day Eve -- it was May 4 when I arrived -- twenty years ago -- Dad died on June 1, 1996.
3. I transported my electric frying pan to the Diazes and stir fried tofu, broccoli, and green pepper, scrambled three eggs to add to it, poured a stir fry sauce I made from scratch over this mixture and then added in the banh pho noodles I fixed, added more stir fry sauce, and we had something like drunken noodles for Mother's Day dinner. That everyone enjoyed this meal made me beam.