Served by my go-to writing haunt, a tea-and-scones place here in town. Not a traditional Southern delicacy, but aside from my family, caramel is my favorite thing on the planet.
Early in the spring, before the average temperature in our neck of the woods settled at 110F and proceeded to stay put for 86 days, I sat down with my dear husband and took him by the hands.
This always means we're having a Talk of some kind. His trepidation was palpable. "What is it? What's wrong?"
"I've been thinking about something -- something I want to do for myself. I'd love to have you take this journey alongside me, but I understand if you aren't willing, if you want me to do this alone."
It was probably my steady gaze that made him start to panic. I'm sure he was thinking of every conceivable doomsday scenario that fit my criteria -- a day at the spa? a rom-com marathon? writing Star Trek fanfic?
"O-kaaaaay?"
"I'm going to start watching Doctor Who. And I'm pretty sure I'm going to like it. And there are six seasons to catch up on." (Even though the show's been on the air for nigh-on fifty years or so, a girl's gotta draw an arbitrary line somewhere.) "So this is going to happen starting this week."
A shrug. "Okay, sure. Let's watch."
Bless my husband and his indulgence of my geeky whims. Of course, I wouldn't expect less from him. This is the man who introduced me to all things Joss Whedon, whose love for Lord of the Rings and Star Wars matches (he would claim exceeds) my own. He won't cotton to Star Trek, however. Hence my uncertainty about his tolerance for Doctor Who.
So in April, we started watching series one of the 2005 reboot, starring Christopher Eccleston as the Ninth Doctor. A week later, we started watching series two, starring David Tennant as the Tenth Doctor. And it didn't take us long to catch up to real-time (well hello, Matt Smith as Eleven), so now we're waiting on a week-by-week basis for BBCAmerica to broadcast new episodes like the rest of the Whovians.
The word OBSESSED is simply not adequate.
I may or may not currently own all of the seasons on DVD. I may or may not currently own toys and/or action figures that I will not allow my children to touch, because they are Mommy's things, getyourgrubbyhandsoffmysonicscrewdriver thankyouverymuch! I also may or may not currently be trying to haul all of my friends (geek-inclined or no) down the Doctor Who rabbit trail with me. (You know who you are. My apologies. Really.)
But seriously, it's fantastic. You'll love it. Why do you resist? You will be assimilated.
The show is brilliant for a number of reasons, but the Doctor himself is a fascinating study in character development. He's the same man, played by eleven different actors (and written by a legion of different writers over the last fifty years). Each incarnation (called regeneration) of the Doctor has a different personality, different likes and dislikes, different mannerisms and characteristics -- but it's the same man, with the same memories. Basically, everything about his nature changes with his regeneration, but everything nurture stays the same.
The writers also aren't afraid to make the Doctor very alien -- which is exactly what he's supposed to be, since he's not human. He sometimes makes incomprehensible decisions. He acts utterly bizarre. He does things that the viewer probably finds ridiculous or stupid or heartless, but mostly these behaviors line up with his internal, alien logic.
I'll stop blathering, but suffice to say I'd highly recommend the show. Start with series one from 2005, or series two from 2006, or series five from 2010 (these are the points at which the Doctor regenerates, and therefore good spots for jumping-in with the new Doctor and his companions and adventures).
And thanks, fantastic husband of mine, for putting up with my geeky obsessions. You're the best kind of enabler.
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