Military Martha

Anyone who knows me knows that I’m pop culture crazy. One of my young singleton colleagues actually remarked the other day that I’m a “nineteen year old girl, trapped in the body of a wife and mother.” Well, it’s true and the shame ends now. I’m unabashedly addicted to Gossip Girl on the edge of my couch waiting to indulge in details of who Serena wearing and why is she sidling up to yet another inaccessible older man. And, it’s not just about the trends. I’ve loved a good vampy romance since the days when Buffy and Angel were stirring up trouble in Sunnydale. Twi-moms – bah, they’re just Johnny Come Latelies! Now, do I faithfully read the Sunday New York Times and listen to NPR on my morning commute? Yes, admittedly, I’m also a news junkie. I think it’s the ying to my yang, the peanut butter to my jelly or the fleur de sel to my chocolate covered caramel (yum). However, as of today, I no longer make excuses. I pity the dinner guest who haughtily claims to know nothing about Glee, never delighting in the weekly rantings of the ascerbic Sue Sylvester and head to iTunes to download the next fabulous cover with giddy abandon. I think what validates me is my plight to strike a balance. Can I go toe-to-toe with discussing the merits of the healthcare private option? You bet – well, at least for a little while. But, can I make the case that pop culture, delivered through television, movies and social media, is truly a progression of classic, literary tradition providing commentary on topics such as the blurry, and slippery line, between good and evil through the eyes of a melancholic teenaged vampire? In the words of Sarah Palin (or Tina Fey)…you betcha. And, let’s face it, who would you rather be seated with at your next dinner party? Yes, well, just send me an Evite and I’ll set the TiVo.