I Dream of Jeannie

I have my sassy pants on today, and so I have been reading BBC news. The second top story on the "U.S./Canada news?" Larry Hagman's death. Right on up there with a call by the U.K. on the U.S. to stop the violence in Israel/Palestine.

I never watched "Dallas." I gave up soaps after my first stint at University. Hanging together in the T.V. room, watching soaps was such a group thing, and one of the only group things I have done in my life. Nevertheless, I loved Larry Hagman on "I Dream of Jeannie." Who didn't? It was a show featuring the world's hottest profession at the time, an astronaut; and a magical genie. Handsome couple, good supporting staff, and then there was the bottle.

Jeannie's home was the first shot at luxury that I had ever seen in my young life. Silk pillows and couches in exotic colors, and so cute and small. I bet every little girl who watched the series vowed, like me, to have the exact same arrangement for a bedroom or living room when she grew up. And those clothes! Who wouldn't like to drift around in pink and purple silk veils, and have hair like that?

It wasn't until I hit Jeannie's apparent age that I realized I wasn't going to look like that, or even like Barbara Eden, either. Now that I am middle aged, I would still like a nap place I could carry around in my coat pocket. Think of the overhead it would save...