Reception.

I wrote this Wednesday afternoon, but did not want to interrupt "Artistic Thursday", or Lizzy's Birthday, so here it is...

I love receiving packages in the mail. I don't have the whole adult thing going on where packages are concerned. I can't just put them on a table and leave them there for later. I open them with holiday like glee. I throw packing material all over the place and my inner child screams, "WhatDidIGet!".

Today it was a TV antenna I bought for my attic in a sleepless haze. For a change, I was glad I did. I pulled it out of the box and began putting it together with erector set ease. That is until I realized that a nut was missing. Minor setback, that is what electrical tape is for and I'll buy the nut at Nut Depot, eventually. Of course it came 45 mins before I was leaving for the city, so I won't be able to mount it in the attic until this weekend. That does not mean I can't try it out, right?

I grab a piece of coax cable, attach one end to the antenna and the other to the tv. In a fountain like "Zeus hurling a lightning bolt" pose, I hold the antenna in the air as I gently reach over and change the tv from cable to antenna. It starts searching for channels. I'm on the first floor, so I'm not expecting much. Damn, lightning bolts must be lighter than tv antennas because after ten minutes, my arm begins to tire. So now I look like a four year old trying to throw one of those giant styrofoam airplanes. The '0' on the digital channel counter changes to '1' and I'm back on Mt. Olympus. Thirty seconds later, the search was done and the counter hadn't changed. The lone channel was about to come on.
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Telemundo, I don't understand what they're saying, and I don't care. I used to know a little Spanish, now I can't even order food at taco bell. That does not stop me from being mesmerized by their programs. The actors are cheesy, the actresses are hot and they all speak like their tonsils are attached to there inner organs. Last weekend when the kids were over, they were flicking through the cable channels when I yelled, "STOP!". It was Cameleones(I think it means pastry.), or something like that. Emily tried interpreting for the first few seconds, then realized that they talked way to fast. We started trying to guess what they were saying by their body language. You just can't do that with American television. American actors don't look like they're getting tasered every time they talk. They are too stiff.

Even the comedies are funny. Sabados Gigantes(I think it means big balls), never ceases to make me laugh. Funny people, funny scenes, funny show. Maybe Saturday Night Live should have William Shatner host every week and broadcast in Spanish, it couldn't hurt. Anyway I have to get to the train now.

Ariva Durci