When I tell people we get the Sunday New York Times, I can feel them roll their eyes at the pretentiousness. Fine. Let them think I'm pretentious while I read what is basically a gossip magazine in black tie attire: the Sunday Style section.

Recently I've read an article called "Snookinomics", a profile of Andy Cohen, and an in-depth description of what one of my favorite authors wore each day for a week. I'm an expert on the guy who planned Prince William's bachelor party. And of course, my favorite part of the paper is the wedding announcements.

I like to see what jobs the couples have and how they met. Usually only children of crazy important people in the Northeast, mainly New York, are featured.

This couple from Houston caught my eye a few weeks ago. Houston? I thought, that's random. How did they get in the Times?

And then the obvious key word jumped out at me: astronaut. Duh - Nasa is in Houston. They were children of astronauts. That's what you have to do get into the Times if you live south of the Mason Dixon line - be the descendant of an astronaut.

And then another key phrase jumped out: emergency medicine physicians. Astronaut doctors! That particular job had never occurred to me, but of course they need physicians in space. A quick Google search made it pretty clear that most space doctors (space doctors sounds way cooler than physician astronauts, don't you think?) are emergency medicine doctors. In case you missed it, ER/EM/ED is what Y wants to do.

real, live astronauts...

What does it take to become an astronaut? I'm not sure - although the always reliable Yahoo Answers says "anyone can be an astronaut if you pass the health test". Of course, Y has barely expressed interest in a post-graduation vacation, much less a side-career in astronauting. But the revelation that Y could, theoretically, have found a backdoor entry into space travel intrigues me -- in the absolute worst way possible. I get nervous walking by the windows on the way to my sixth floor office, I don't think I could handle (vicariously) the heights involved with being an astronaut. I hear they go pretty high.

But it might be worth it to be married to Dr. Spaceman.