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My TIVO is overflowing with unwatched television but I may soon have to clear some room. The Family Guy might be coming back and I’m just thrilled at the prospect. Little Stewie can again complain about his Uteran prison. Brian the dog will get to drink yet another Martini.

The show won’t be returning because of public outcry or because of the giant holes in Fox’s lineup. The DVD sales are through the roof. In this strange case of backwards distribution, the tail just might wag the dog (sorry Brian — trust us). The guys with the suits understand dollars and cents. They are hoping that popularity proven in the video store translates to the television screen.

I’m hoping too. A new season or two of one my favorite shows of the last couple of years would go wonderfully next to my copy of seasons 1 and 2 of Peter and family. Well that and season three. Christmas is coming, you know.

The wife and I spent last weekend alone, quietly celebrating our seventh wedding anniversary. Seven blissful years gone – twelve now in total. These chains of love are starting to fit. In fact, they have never fit better.

Our destination was the sleepy town of Harpers Ferry. Sleepy is a charitable word for the historic town without the warm weather of summer or spring. We started our trip with a little exploration. We took a walking bridge across the Potomac and back again. We thawed our windblown ears in a local tavern. A trip through town featured a secluded — almost creepy — visit to the wax museum (Let’s not speak of part of the tour where John Brown looks at you on his way up to the noose.) and more than one trip into the local shops. A cookie to warm the belly, a beanie to warm those ears, and a Christmas quilt to warm the heart were the conquests of our travels. We braved the 200 steps to Jefferson’s rock and finally left to track down our Bed and Breakfast.

The next day we were off to Antietam, a place significant for featuring the bloodiest day of the civil war as well as the Union victory that triggered the Emancipation Proclamation. Perhaps less significant, it rounded out our tour of “the big two” Maryland civil war battles.

I found it interesting how hard the historians are on the Union, the eventual winners of the battle. General McClellan was too reserved, foolishly squandering an opportunity to crush the army of the South. He only had their battle plans and far superior numbers. Their hasty escape only allowed them to fight for two and half more years. Cmon. Give the guy a break.

McClellan was eventually fired (and, it seems, rightfully so) for letting the army of the South get back across the Potamac. His successor, Ambrose Burnside, is infamous for related reasons. Late in the day, a large force of Union soldiers were repeatedly beaten back by just a relatively few Confederate riflemen while attempting to take a bridge. They could have forded the river a little upstream or a little downstream. Instead, they wasted the morning and many lives in the effort. In a bit of historical sarcasm, Burnside Bridge was the reward for their commander.

The whole trip was quiet. We didn’t have to fight the crowds; there weren’t any. Except for some wandering boy scout troops scattered along our tour of Antietam, we were pretty much alone and that’s just how the wife and I like it. One of the real advantages to having a mid-November wedding is that tourist season is over. Our love doesn’t just make it feel like we are the only ones in the world, the population of the attractions we visit bare it out. It’s a nice way to spend a trip — no bumping elbows for me. The wife and I are on vacation. Only us two need be present.

Still, I must admit, our minds weren’t just on the two of us. We spent more than a little time thinking about what we left behind, in the form of just the best little baby boy on earth. This was our first overnight trip without our little bundle of joy and it felt like it. Don’t get me wrong. We had a grand time, particularly that part about sleeping until the late hour of 8 am, but by the end we were ready to return. We didn’t want him to forget our names. We didn’t want him walking away before we got a chance to witness it.

And what a wonderful way that was to end the weekend. We spent the weekend celebrating our love. We spent the trip home celebrating the fruits of it.

I brought a new mug into work the other day — something that was due, given that I lost my company mug about a year ago. I have a problem with it, though. While it just exudes coolness, with its Marvin the Martian motif, it’s considerably bigger than a normal mug. My cups of coffee are now 1/2 cups of coffee. I don’t know if I like having all that extra space.

The wife and I watched the return of 8 Simple Rules sans Jon Ritter this week. While I’d have to say the return episode wasn’t too shabby — it was emotional without feeling contrived, I don’t know how they’ll continue the show without their lead character. This isn’t like replacing a red shirt on Star Trek. He was the show. It’s too bad, really. Before his death, it was quickly becoming the only show on ABC worth watching.

The wife and I spent much of Saturday at a birthday party for the now two year old daughter of our good friends. I felt a little bad for our friends at the result; some of their planning backfired. A joyous pinata party ended up being a ritual hanging where all the kids took turns beating Sponge Bob with a stick. I hope she recovers soon. The birthday cake probably cheered her up. It contained what was left of his Square Pants after we carved him up.

We ended the night by catching the lunar eclipse. It was pretty wild to watch the moon and a star align. It’s like watching parent earth punish its unruly kids. You go to that corner and you go to that corner. It was first time I actually watched an eclipse occur. We got the telescope out and everything. I even got a long exposure picture, using the last of the film I bought specifically for photographing stars while I was in Hawaii.

After those fluffy things in the sky, quite literally, clouded our vision, the wife and I headed in from the sudden cold for some hot chocolate. Yummm. I was hardly surprised that we collapsed while watching Finding Nemo. This time my mug was completely full.