The Minnesota Farm Woman

By now, most of you know how I feel about reality TV. I dislike it. I really dislike it. I have tried watching some of the shows, but they’re just not my cup of coffee. Luckily there are other things to watch, so I have been able to turn the channel away from  Dance Moms, Leaving Amish, and Hoarders. I am almost embarrassed to tell you that I actually watched 1.5 episodes of Here Comes Honey Boo Boo. I managed to view the back-to-back episodes with a kind of horrified fascination before turning off the TV and finishing my book.  It was the same kind of strange fascination that comes when you see an accident unfolding in front of your eyes and you want to look away but just can’t.  I have been  pleasantly surprised though, at the reality show Long Island Medium.  Theresa Caputo has a wonderful  New York  accent, talks to dead people, and admittedly goes through a lot of hairspray every week. The dead people interrupt her everyday life, such as having her talk to the grocery store employee who is busy bagging her groceries about his cousin “who has passed”.  I like her because she is warm and funny and we seem to have a lot in common.  Not that I talk to dead people or have three-inch-long fingernails, but I think I have a few psychic abilities of my own.  When my daughter was a teen and said she was done cleaning her room, I always knew to look under the bed. Not for spirits, but for the dirty clothes, magazines, and stuffed animals that I just knew would be there.  I didn’t really have to look, but wanted to add a little drama to our own rather humdrum REAL family reality series.   I know for certain that if  I ask my husband on any given day what he wants for dinner he will answer “I don’t care”.   I know that the biggest snowfall of the winter will happen on a day that I have to be somewhere at a certain time.  I know if the Vikings make a bad play or get a bad call there will be a few naughty words spoken in our living room.  I am absolutely positive  that if I put 28 socks in the washer and transfer them to the dryer and/or clothesline that I will have 27 socks by the time they are folded.  I don’t have to burn sage and wave it around the room to let you know that my psychic abilities are telling  me that sock #28 will magically appear in a few weeks with another load of laundry.  There just might be spirits involved in that phenomena because there is just no other reasonable explanation as to why socks always disappear around here. Just like the Long Island Medium, my psychic abilities also interrupt daily life.  Just the other day, I purchased the cutest little knit baby hat in bright pink.  I just couldn’t seem to put it down.  No, I don’t know for certain if our grandchild-to-be will be a girl, but I already know that he or she will be beautiful, loved, and maybe just a little bit spoiled.  My psychic abilities are telling me that you already knew that, though.   Maybe you are psychic, too!