I’m enjoying my Facebook experience. Many of you have found my Emilie Richards page and signed on as “fans,” a word Facebook coined but one that always makes me feel like a wannabe rock star. I prefer “readers.” It’s easy to interact on the page, and I like finding out more about you and what you think.
Today I confessed to a recent “addiction” to Wheel of Fortune and asked my readers what TV shows they watch that no one would expect them to. The answers were wonderful. Who knew Lawrence Welk reruns were still on the air? Reality shows were no surprise, the Food Network took a bow, and some wonderful older sit coms and dramas were mentioned. I applauded when I found there’s another Murder She Wrote fan on my page. Someday I’ll have to do an entire blog about what I’ve learned from Jessica Fletcher.
Familiar shows are a source of comfort for me. I love challenging television, too, innovative and edgy shows that make me think. But when I’m tired, watching something I can simply sink into is pure joy. Comfort is key.
Books can be comfort reads, as well. I rarely re-read a novel, but I have authors whose books I always read, just for the sheer comfort they give me. They aren’t difficult books, and they aren’t demanding intellectually. Nothing is expected except going along for the ride. I know I will be entertained, that when I’m done I’ll feel satisfied, nourished, rejuvenated. There are many, many worse ways to spend my time.
Then there’s food. Homemade bread. Chocolate. Grilled cheese sandwiches. Tomato or chicken noodle soup. Pierogies. The list goes on, food that comforts me and makes the rest of my day more enjoyable. Sometimes my choices are actually good for me, sometimes they aren’t, but always the choice brings a warm sense of satisfaction that’s worth the occasional overdose of calories or fat grams.
I’ve never been sure why the things that comfort us most are things we’re a little embarrassed to admit. Maybe it’s because we’re all working longer and harder these days to keep jobs and make ends meet. We’re constantly told we need to do our best, to shine, to reach for the stars.
I think that sometimes, just sometimes, we really need to reach for the television remote. We need to turn on those old sit coms that make us laugh, then hunker down on the sofa with popcorn and cocoa. Or we need to pull out a novel that won’t demand anything except our attention and appreciation, then fall asleep with our finger marking a page.
Me, I plan to keep watching Wheel of Fortune every night. I’ve yet to figure out why I’m enjoying it so much. But that’s because I haven’t tried to. I’m not going to analyze the things that bring me comfort and pleasure. I think I’ll just take them as the gifts they are.
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