A blog about adjusting to married (and baby!) life -- from the perspective of him and her.
Showing posts with label Matthew Berry. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Matthew Berry. Show all posts
Saturday, August 30, 2014
Podcast Fever
Now that I've been a Dad for almost a year, I have a little bit of perspective. I realize how lucky I am to be married to someone I love. I realize how fortunate I am to have a happy, healthy, growing baby girl. I realize how wonderful it is to read to my daughter, hang out with my dog, and spend some quiet time with my wife.
And I realize how rare and precious alone time really is.
The reality of the situation is that, after you start a small family (a wonderful, beautiful small family), you don't get much time to yourself. At least not as much as you're used to getting. Maybe a quick hour here and a 15-minute block there. And it's usually later at night or early (like, really early) in the morning.
That, of course, means that you want to make the most of these rare minutes to yourself. And for me, in the past year, that has meant podcasts.
I've never really liked talk radio. I'm not sure why, but it never really appealed to me. Then, about a year ago, as I was walking to work listening to some song I'd heard 800 times, I realized how incredibly stupid I was being. What value did it have? Now, don't get me wrong; music is amazing and has this unique power to bring back memories, relax you, or get you going -- depending on your mood. But the same songs over and over and over? It's like watching the same episode of a TV show or the same movie day after day after day. The same lines. Nothing new. No surprises. No, thanks.
Enter podcasts and, for me, podcast fever. Free, funny, interesting, engaging, educational, entertaining -- what's not to love? I started listening to them every day on my commute to work and now find myself sneaking them in whenever I have a spare chunk of time away from Belle and Bridget. (Overcast is my favorite podcast app, in case you're curious.) And since I've been listening religiously for about a year, I thought I'd quickly share my five favorite podcasts:
1. This American Life. No surprise here. If you listen to podcasts, you know this is pretty much the gold standard. Ira Glass's storytelling is as good as it gets.
2. Freakonomics Radio. These two authors -- Dubner and Levitt -- are smart, funny, and thought-provoking. I hadn't thought of it until just now, but I can't think of any two famous people with whom I'd rather have a beer. Is that depressing? This episode is my favorite.
3. Planet Money. This one is from NPR, which really sets the quality bar for podcasts. Fascinating stories, a great mix of talent, and short shows that are perfect for a quick break at lunch or a quick commute. NPR's Ted Radio Hour and Wait Wait … Don't Tell Me (even without Carl Kasell) are fantastic, too.
4. Slate's The Gist. I was really skeptical about this at first -- it seemed like one dude's typically angry rants -- but this daily show is incredibly entertaining. Mike Pesca, known for NPR sports, is damn funny. One line from a recent show, which was also featured on This American Life: "I should answer Donald Trump's take on science as soon as Donald Trump is asked to comment on my opinion that he is a pompous, overbearing, ignorant windbag who lusts for attention the way a meth-addicted prostitute lusts for his next fix." Great stuff.
5. ESPN: Fantasy Focus: Football. It's that time of the year and, as much as I hate to admit it, I can't get enough of hearing Matthew Berry explain what he's buying or selling this season. It's like a weird drug. Oh, and speaking of fantasy football, here's a podcast about the only league I'm in this season. It is, by about five galaxies, the worst podcast on this list. But whatever. At least we're putting ourselves out there.
One bonus podcast: The Memory Palace with Nate DiMeo. These are incredibly short, but incredibly engaging. I just wish there were more of them.
Labels:
Belle,
Bridget,
fantasy football,
Freakonomics,
Matthew Berry,
Mike Pesca,
Nate DiMeo,
NPR,
Planet Money,
podcast,
Ted Radio Hour,
The Gist,
The Memory Palace,
This American Life,
Wait Wait … Don't Tell Me
Saturday, September 8, 2012
My Fantasy Football Widow
Then two words happen: fantasy football.
Now, I wouldn't call Bridget a fantasy football widow, but ... actually, yes I would. That's exactly what she is. Like so many loving, understanding partners, she stands quietly by as I pore over statistics and stress about whether to start Jordy Nelson or Eric Decker. (Seriously. If you're knowledgable, who should I use in Week 1?) And the thing about football is that it takes a while. It takes a while every Sunday and it takes a while every year. Provided my fantasy teams (I have two) don't stink, I'll be making lineup decisions up until Christmas.
I should pause and say something here: "Sorry, Bridget."
I started playing fantasy football 10 years ago. As a sportswriter in New Hampshire, I joined the league at our newspaper. I left the newspaper, but never left the league. And now, a decade into it, I head up to Keene once a year to see old friends, make my picks, and pretend this year will be different. (Spoiler: It never is. I stink.) I've been in several other leagues and now act as commissioner of my work league down here in Cambridge. And I absolutely love both of them. I love the trash talk. I love "owning" a whole new group of players every year. I love reading Matthew Berry's Love/Hate columns.
Now, it's not that I don't love Bridget when the season kicks off. I do -- very much -- but it's safe to say my priorities change a bit. Want to go out for dinner? I would, but the Saints kick off in 20 minutes and I have Brees. Want to take Oscar for a walk? I mean, I do, but I kind of need to watch Sidney Rice for the next three hours because I'm down by five points and he just needs to catch one damn touchdown.
So, again: "Sorry, Bridget."
Bridget, as always, does her best to like my hobbies or at least suffer what I'm doing. She'll sit next to me while I watch useless pre-game shows and does a great job of cooking up some delicious meals every Sunday around 2 p.m. But I know deep in her heart, she wishes her husband wasn't so into fantasy football. She wishes it was just a hobby and not an obsession. But, well, she kind of signed up for this when she said, "I do."
Someday, something may change. But for now, this is the best I've got, darling: "Sorry, Bridget."
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