Pass the (Microwave) Popcorn: Gilmore Girls

Sometimes it feels like the universe is trying to tell you something. Like this morning, for example. In the 15 minutes it took to walk our wayward puppy and the hour I spent walking by myself afterwards, I saw no fewer than a half dozen dogs and owners in the process of training. "Stay," one canine was told. "Heel," another was instructed. "Sit," "Quiet," "Come now." Was this some higher power upbraiding me for dropping the proverbial ball where our own pet's instruction is concerned? Was this the price I paid for neglecting his studies (well, this and several things he's destroyed, such as my daughter's copy of Jekyll and Hyde and the family room carpet ... twice!)?

Other times, it's not so much the universe as friends and family. A few years ago, my best friend, her two daughters and my own mum suggested (more like, insisted) that I needed to watch a certain series with my then tween. 

It was Gilmore Girls, and they were right!

Gilmore Girls is a mother-daughter "dramedy" about two Lorelai's, the older (Lauren Graham) is an unwed mom who has built a life in Connecticut's colorful "Stars Hollow," without the aid of a husband or her millionaire parents (the late great Edward Herrman and the delicious dastardly diva — and Tony winner — Kelly Bishop). The younger Lorelai, better known as "Rory," (Alexis Bledel) is a prep school student with her heart set on going to Harvard. Together, they get into all sorts of emotional scrapes, pulling through with endless banter and quick-witted cultural allusions (there must be about twice the number of words in a Gilmore script as in other one-hour shows). With its repertory cast of quirky characters, the series was simultaneously funny and tender and irreverent and contemporary. And ...

We both loved it.

My mother thought that Rory and my daughter were doppelgangers (Bledel has darker hair, but they have similar features and profiles). However, my daughter had other ideas. 

"You're like Rory," she told me, confidently, "And, I'm like Lorelai." 

"How so?" I asked.

"Because you're serious and I like to have fun."

Okay, then.

Gilmore Girls ended in 2007, but in these days of DVDs and on demand, Netflix and Amazon Prime, nothing ever really goes away. More afternoons than not, we can find an episode in syndication. And, just in case, a certain Mr. Claus left a box-set of the complete series under a certain teenage daughter's Christmas tree. Back-to-back Gilmore Girls have filled many a snow day around here.

This week, Netflix announced that it will produce a limited sequel series. (OMG! Best. News. Ever.) Four 90-minute "epilogical" (my word, btw) episodes, written by the show's original creator Amy Sherman-Palladino. Fans everywhere are as excited as we are. Even Madeleine Albright, former Secretary of State, and a Gilmore guest star once upon a time, tweeted "I hope the rumors are true — bring back #Gilmore Girls @ Netflix! #gilmoregirlsseason8."

Can we pause for a moment to reflect upon just how cool Albright is? She's 78 and tweets like a rock star.

Post-announcement elation, I do have some concerns. Will Gilmore be the same when both Girls are adults (my least favorite episodes were the ones in which a too-fast maturing Rory and Lorelai were estranged)? Will enough of the old cast agree to participate? Will the rapid-fire humor of ten years ago still make us smile today?

Even if it bombs (please, dear universe, don't let that happen), my daughter and I are happy. It will be something to enjoy together again. And, anyway ...

We'll always have Stars Hollow.

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