Every year my father sends me a box of Li-Lac Chocolates for Valentine's Day. They're homemade chocolates from a little place in Greenwich Village; the champagne truffles are especially celebrated. He usually sends me a truffle assortment, because I am a truffle whore. Anyway, each year I get the box, and I always forget which truffles correspond to which flavors. So, for future reference: Milk chocolate with dark chocolate stripes = champagne truffle, and dark chocolate with white stripes = caramel truffle. My favorites, and the ones I always want to save for last. Good Lord, but they're divine.

Out of curiosity, I rented the first Six Feet Under DVD and watched the pilot and the next couple episodes. I had never seen the show before, due to my lack of HBO (and absence of friends who forced the show upon me, as Dave did with Sex and the City). Although I found some of the script a bit stilted and stage-y, I found myself really identifying with a lot of the characters. Just being in the hospital and constantly confronting the immediacy of death makes one more aware of mortality. And then, of course, there was all the stuff I went through during my pediatrics and surgery rotations which made me acutely aware of my own mortality. Although I've largely learned to push away and distract myself from thinking about death, the fear is still there. And there's also a kind of desperation to do all that I wish to do right now, in case my time is soon up. But my inability to accomplish all that I wish to do (or even a small fraction of what I wish to do) frustrates the hell out of me and sometimes makes me want to curl into the fetal position and dream away my life (I've never taken drugs, but maybe those would help?).

Anyway, back to the show. I hated the fake commercials in the first episode with a fiery passion, but thankfully, they don't seem to be a recurring element in the episodes. Peter Krause--damn but he's gorgeous. I loved Rachel Griffiths in past film roles, so she's welcome here. I love, love, love Lauren Ambrose. She's so natural on screen. I'm impressed with Frances Conroy as the mother, although the sudden outbursts are becoming repetitive and tiring (more the fault of the screenwriter than of the actress). I identify with David (Michael C.Hall) the most, of course. Well, I think that I'm probably a strange mix between David and Nate. But I feel David's pain most strongly--his feeling of entrapment because he's unable to let himself be happy. Urgh.