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I stood in the doorway of the den. My husband watched a movie where the action hero said something witty to the heroine. She tossed a bon mot back at him. Suddenly an explosion rent the air and they both fell to the ground, rolling under a nearby truck for safety. Debris flew as a fire crackled behind them. He reached over and grabbed her and … The pitcher caught the fly ball to center and the game, tied at three-all, went into overtime. The manager of the home team, heavily favored to make it to the play-offs, pulled his pitcher, which set off a roar in the stands, then … A very well-developed young woman dressed in what looked like half a toga smiled and rotated her pelvis at the camera while three young men whose underwear was sticking out of their pants rapped about how people judge them by the way they dress, meanwhile … A frog on a lily pad chatted with his green buddies about their favorite brand of beer. "What was that movie called?" I asked my husband. "What movie?" My spouse responded through a mouth full of Oreos. His finger hit the remote button and suddenly the frogs were replaced by a commercial for gum that can double as a rope. Our TV flickers like a kaleidoscope in the hands of a two-year-old, changing faster than my hair color. Golf, a country music singer waxing clever about adultery, a cartoon starring a sponge, a talk show featuring people concerned with the prospect of excess facial hair, the news and Baywatch flashed by faster than one can say, "schizophrenic television viewing." Well, in truth, the Baywatch part didn't flash. That's where he paused, chomped down on a couple cookies, then realized I was still standing in the doorway. He hit the remote. Click-click. Click-click. Click-click. Onscreen, boxes of detergent did the macarena. "The movie you were watching when I walked into the room," I clarified. "What's it called?" He shrugged. Oreo crumbs fell on the rug. "I dunno." "You don't know? How long had you been watching it?" "Maybe 10-15 minutes. Not long. Besides, I've already seen the ending," he said. "Wait a minute. You've seen the ending. And you've seen part of the middle. But you haven't seen it all and you don't know its name?" "Nope. Hey, did you get any more of those tortilla chips at the store?" I shook my head. "I bought apples instead. But about that movie..." "Apples? I don't want an apple. I want some salsa and cheese dip. Hey – what about potato chips? Got any of those?" He looked hopeful. "No chips. Fruit and vegetables. You need to eat healthy stuff – like apples. So – on two different occasions you've watched part of this movie…" "Uh-uh. I've watched part of this movie lots of times…" "You keep watching bits and pieces of the same movie, but you've never seen the beginning and you don't know it's name. Is that about it?" He smiled as though I'd just answered the Double Jeopardy question correctly. "Yep. What about crackers? You know I really like those Cheez-Its you used to get…" "No crackers. No chips. Fruit. I bought fruit. Why would anyone watch the end of a movie, then the middle of a movie and still not know what it's called? I can't believe you." Some movement on the screen caught his attention. He picked up the remote and switched the channel. Smiling kids piled into Dairy Queen for banana splits. He cut his eyes over to me. "Ice cream?" he asked wistfully. "Carrots," I said, firmly. He sighed and switched over to the movie, then brightened. "I haven't seen this part," he said. Next time I go to the store, I'm getting rutabagas.
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