Rocks In My Dryer

If You Only Buy One Book This Year, Make It This One

Honestly, I've never found a children's Bible-story book that I really loved.  The stories all seemed a little dry, and they're typically presented in a preschool-ish way that doesn't interest older kids.  Spiritual applications are often watered down, if they're present at all. 

So, with a hefty dose of skepticism, I followed my friend Megan's recommendation recently, and I ordered my kids the Jesus Storybook Bible.

If you've read this blog for any length of time, you know that I'm pretty frugal, and it's rare that I will tell you something is a must-have.  You also know that I generally don't do book reviews.  But this time I'm making an exception, because this book is a must-have.  I've never seen a children's Bible story book like it.  I've never seen any children's book like it.  Case in point, there's this from the opening paragraph:

God wrote, "I love you" -- he wrote it in the sky, and on the earth, and under the sea.  He wrote his message everywhere!  Because God created everything in his world to reflect him like a mirror -- to show us what he is like, to help us know him, to make our hearts sing.

-- p. 12 

The Bible stories are presented with one goal in mind, and it's explained in the book's subheader:  Every Story Whispers His Name.  Beautifully and seamlessly, the story of Jesus is woven through every Old Testament story, explaining why we needed a Savior in the first place.  The stories are the same ones parents have been reading their children for ages, but there is some hefty theology mixed in--seriously, there is some meaty stuff there.  And while that might make it sound difficult for a child to follow, I can assure you that the opposite is true.  These stories challenge the kids, but the gorgeous, lyrical language pull the kids right along.  Here's an example from the story of Noah, in which the meaning of the rainbow (compared earlier to a warrior's "war bow") is explained:

God's strong anger against hate and sadness and eath would come down once more -- but not on his people, or his world.  No, God's war bow was not pointing down at his people.

It was pointing up, into the heart of Heaven.

-- p. 47

We've been reading two or three stories a week, and my three boys are absolutely riveted.  They don't move a muscle.  The rich content of these stories has generated some of the deepest spiritual conversations we've ever had with our kids, and I'm convinced it's because they're seeing Scripture presented in such a fresh and authentic way.  (Amazon advertises a target age of 4-8, but I disagree.  My oldest son, who is almost ten, has been eating it up.  I've actually learned from it.)

One more example, because this is so good I have to include it.  This is from the story of Christ's crucifixion:

"Papa?" Jesus cried, frantically searching the sky.  "Papa?  Where are you?  Don't leave me!"

And for the first time -- and the last -- when he spoke, nothing happened.  Just a horrible, endless silence.  God didn't answer.  He turned away from his Boy.

Tears rolled down Jesus' face.  The face of the One who would wipe away every tear from every eye.

-- p. 304

Even the illustrations and fresh and powerful.  The drawing of what it might have looked like when Adam and Eve left the garden brought tears to my eyes.

If I sound ridiculously excited about this book, it's because I am.  I can't think of a book I'd recommend more highly to any family, in fact.  It's available at Amazon for about $10.  It will be worth every single penny.   

Hope

My hands dug at the ground tentatively.  It had been some time since I'd been able to think beyond my next breath, and productivity felt foreign.  But there I sat, on my knees, in a flower bed in my backyard, breathing the chilly November air and thinking of spring.

It was the late autumn of 2002, and I was emerging, ever so slowly, from the darkest time of my life.  For months I had been paralyzed by depression and anxiety.  But as November arrived, and the earth began to fall asleep for the winter, something inside me began to awaken.  Medication, prayer and the love of my family had pulled me back from the brink, and I stepped out of my "bunker" blinking in the sunlight and walking very slowly.  But I was walking.  Gently forward, each day a little easier than the next, I was moving toward Hope. 

And so it was I sat in my flower bed that day, overcome by the need to get my hands in the dirt.  I had some hyacinth bulbs that had been tucked in my fridge for some time, and I knew I needed to get them in the ground before the first freeze.  I turned the bulbs over in my dirty hands--they looked like misshapen onions, with brittle flakes coming off the sides and dead-looking scraggles sticking out of the tops.  I stared at them for some time, marveling that something beautiful would shoot out of that clumpy, brown mess in just a few short months.  But with faith in my soil and my Miracle-Gro, I tucked a few bulbs into the ground. 

I sat back and patted the ground where they were buried.  They were powerful symbols to me of my own journey--something ugly and dead-ish, held in the hands of a Creator who wasn't afraid to get His hands dirty. 

My bulbs lay still and waited for spring.  My heart waited with them. 

And spring indeed came, both to the hyacinths, and to me.  In an explosion of electric blue color, those gorgeous bulbs gave me their very best that March.  And I, further down my path of healing, was able to rejoice--in the beauty of a blue flower, in the warmth of spring, in the faithfulness of a God whose mercies are new again and again.

Those dark days are now a distant memory, and my steps are no longer slow and tentative.  Sometimes it's easy to forget just how dark those times were.  But then every year spring comes, and every year that plucky hyacinth shows his face to me, reminding me of my long journey toward hope.  He appeared this weekend, and I greeted my old friend (though not for long, as he was mowed down by an unforgiving GI Joe truck). 

I laughed, and I remembered, and I gratefully turned my face to the sun. 

More LOST Than Ever

(Sorry, non-Lost watchers, but this is an excruciatingly long post.  If you're looking for Works-For-Me Wednesday, just scroll on down.)

I feel like I just watched an old episode of Murder, She Wrote: shady characters, creepy murder, classic whodunnit.  Except, of course, Angela Lansbury never BURIED ANYONE ALIVE at the end of the show.  Was that the creepiest thing you've ever seen?  I'll be up all night thinking about it. 

The episode is getting panned on the message boards, but I actually liked it.  It was refreshing seeing a beginning, middle and end to a Lost episode, don't you think?  And seeing another "view" of the entire time on the island (from Nikki and Paolo's viewpoint) certainly gave a sense of cohesion we often lack in this show.

A few points for discussion...

• Do you think Nikki and Paolo are actually dead?  Will some greedy soul go back to dig up the diamonds and find them alive?
• That was kind of nice seeing Boone and Shannon again, wasn't it?  Did anyone else think that was a different actress playing Shannon?
• Loved seeing Sun knock Sawyer's lights out.  That was some good TV.
• I'm loving the notion of the formerly greedy Sawyer burying the diamonds.  He's reforming!  I just knew it!  The bad guy turns good! 
• Tell me if this blows your mind as much as it blows mine--I saw an interesting theory on the message boards a little while ago.  The diamond pouch (which Sawyer kept) looks just like the black pouch the black and white stones are in (remember the Adam and Eve cave in Season One?)  This theory suggests that the Island is actually on one big time loop--Sawyer hides those stones for Jack to find later, and Ben is the grown-up version of (wait for it...wait for it...) Claire's baby Aaron!  I know, that makes my head hurt too.

Speaking of the Lost message boards, you need to see the list of "100 Greatest Lost Mysteries" compiled by someone with the username of HurleysChins (and that's all the info I have on this person; I wish I could give him/her more credit, because this is a fantastic list):

1. What are the Others/Dharma doing on the island?
2. What is the smoke monster?
3. Where is the island?
4. Why do all the characters seemed to have run into each other before the flight?
5. What is the "sickness"?
6. What's the deal with the 4-toed statue? Who were the original inhabitants of the island?
7. Why is Hanso (from LE) trying to infect people from a virus? (from the Sri Lanka video)
8. What/who is causing the whispering?
9. What are Walt's special powers? Why was Walt talking backwards? Why did he appear soaking wet?
10. What is causing all the hallucinations on the island?
11. Why is Desmond able to predict future events?
12. What happened to Michael and Walt?
12. Did Desmond really travel back in time, or was it just another different type of hallucination?
13. What is the big construction project that the Others working on?
14. Who is "him"?
15. What exactly was the Incident?
16. How did Locke, Eko and Desmond all escape the hatch before certain death? Why was Desmond naked, and how did he get from the hatch to the jungle?
17. How did Locke regain use of his legs? What caused Locke to briefly lose the use of his legs on the island?
18. Why are the others unable to conceive children?
19. Who is Jacob? Why does the video refer to Jacob in the past tense?
20. What caused the Nigerian plane to crash on the Island?
21. What is the significance of the eye close-ups?
22. Why did Juliet want Ben dead?
23. Why were they brainwashing Karl? What is the purpose of the clockwork orange video?
24. How did Locke become paralyzed?
25. Why did 'Henry' say he'd come for Locke?
26. Why are there Polar Bears on the island?
27. What is the Dharma Shark?
28. Is Alex Ben's biological daughter?
29. Why did Radzinsky make the blast door map? Did he really kill himself? Why?
30. Who was the man with the eyepatch? And where was the video feed coming from?
31. What is in the vaccine that is/was being injected into Claire?
32. What happened to the the Black Rock? How did the Black Rock get so far inland?
33. Why was Penelope looking for an electromagnetic anomoly? What will she do now that she has found it?
34. Was Libby sent by someone to give Desmond the sailboat?
35. Why were there so many survivors from the crash?
36. Why was Libby in the mental hospital? Did Libby recognise Hurley from the mental hospital?
37. What do the others mean by "good person"/"good people"?
38. Why did the smoke monster kill Eko?
39. Why did the Others want to take Kate and Sawyer?
40. Are Hurley's numbers really cursed? How?
41. Why did the entire sky light up when Desmond turned the failsafe?
42. Who was Libby's husband David? Any connection to Hurley's Dave?
43. What is the relationship between the Valenzetti numbers (or Valenzetti equation) and the Swan hatch?
44. Why were so many Dharma stations abandoned? What happened to the replacements for the Swan? If it was so important, why was it left to fend for itself?
45. Why did the Others burn Kate's clothes? Why did they burn Colleen after she died?
46. Is Rose's cancer really cured?
47. Lift up your eyes and look North - What will be found there?
48. Did Ben allow himself to get captured on purpose? If so, why?
49. Why was the Swan hatch under quarentine?
50. What happened to Jack's father's body?
51. Who removed Yemi's corpse from the Nigerian plane?
52. What were the surgeons in the medical hatch going to do to Claire?
52. Why is Alex helping the Survivors?
53. Why were the Numbers broadcasting on the transmitter? Who originally broadcasted them and why?
54. Can Jin now have children? Is he really the father?
55. What is the purpose of the Flame hatch?
56. Why was Locke so curious about the origin of Sawyer's name?
57. Why was Desmond in the Army prison?
58. What happened to the real Henry Gale and why?
59. Why did they take Michael's blood?
60. What is the cable used for they find on the beach that led them to Danielle?
61. Why did the psychic lie to Eko about being a fake? Why did he buy Claire a ticket for flight 815? What did he see?
62. Was Locke really "immaculately conceived"?
63. Are Dr. Candle/Wickman the same? Why did his name change? How did he lose his arm between videos?
64. Who spoke with Jack via the Intercom to try the door? Why was he hearing his father through the intercom?
65. Who is Brennan? What are the keys that he has?
66. Did Henry do something other than enter the code?
67. Why was the orientation film edited and why were the missing parts in the other station hidden in the bible and simply not destroyed
68. Who/what brought the girl in Australia back to life?
69. Who was Sawyer talking about when he said I love her while recovering from his infection?
70. How did the VW Van get to the middle of the jungle?
71. How did Kate's horse (or one identical to it) get on the island?
72. What has Juliet been working on with the Others? Does it have something to do with the pregnant male mouse?
73. Was Hurley's Lottery rigged?
74. Why was there a glass eye in the arrow hatch?
75. Why have so many people lost their arm (Montand, Wickman/Waxman, Ray Mullen)
76. What was the "Hurley Bird"
77. What was meant be "The computer must'nt be used for anything else". What else could the computer be used for?
78. What is the significance of the mark they put on Juliet?
79. Why was there a pile of unopened logs from the pearl in the middle of the jungle?
80. Where does the Dahrma food drop come from?
81. How did Kelvin know Desmond had arrived on the island? Is Kelvin really dead?
82. Why were there blast doors and a huge stash of guns in the Swan?
83. Jack's tattoos: "He walks amoung us, but is not one of us". What does it truly mean?
84. Why did the monster kill the pilot?
85. What happened to Locke's Helen? Did Locke take the $200,000?
86. Was Edmund's death an accident? If not, how could Mittelos have arranged such an accident?
87. What was the purpose of the Arrow hatch?
88. What was Ethan doing at Rachels, Juliet's sister?
89. Who were Adam/Eve, the bodies found by Jack in the caves?
90. What did Fenry mean by "We already got more than we bargined for from Walt" on the dock?
91. Why were the Others wearing costumes at first? If it was to fool the lostaways into thinking they were primitive, then why?
92. Where was the radio signal playing "Moonlight Serenade" coming from?
93. How did Mr.Paik know Jin & Sun were planning to run away?
94. What was in the pit Locke was being dragged into? Why was the monster trying to drag Locke into it?
95. How come Walt looks at a picture of a bird and one turns up dead and then he reads a comic with polar bears and they turn up?
96. Was someone in the Pearl hatch just before Locke entered? Was someone watching them in the Swan from there? What was the stuff we saw on the side table?
97. How did such a rare bottle of whiskey make it to the island? Is it from Widmore's stash?
98. What happened to the passageways on the blast door map? Are they still there?
99. Why were all the hairbrushes gone after the crash
100. If the Swan hatch imploded, why did the hatch door go flying out to the beach?

Excellent work, HurleysChins (whomever you may be)...Losties, talk amongst yourselves.

Works For Me: A Little Manipulation Never Hurt Anyone

We mommas use whatever tools we have at our disposal, right?  And if the testosterone coursing through the veins of our little boys can be harnessed for our convenience, we should go for it, right?

I sure do.

Recently I stumbled across a really easy (and oh-so-funny) tip to get my boys to help me with things like carrying laundry baskets, moving furniture, bringing in groceries, etc....without a moment of arguing.  Here's an example of how it works:

Me:  Stephen, I need some help moving these boxes to the garage. [Long pause here while I appear to be re-assessing.]  You know, never mind, I think these might be a little too heavy for you.

Stephen: [Popping up eagerly from the couch.]  Too heavy?  Those aren't too heavy!  Let me try!

Me:  [Insert overly dramatic skepticism here.]  Are you sure?  There are a lot of them.

Stephen:  Aw, that's easy, Mom, I can do them all...

Presto.  I get eager help from the boys, and they get an ego boost.  Works for me--every time!

Have an idea you'd like to share with all of Bloggityville?  Leave your link below.  WFMW guidelines can be found here.  If you don't have a blog, you're welcome to leave your WFMW tip in my comments section.

Remember that next Wednesday is WFMW: The Car Edition. Give us your best tips for handling life on the go. How to entertain the kids in the car, or keep up with your little league gear, or how to stock an auto first aid kid...let us know what works for you.

Where We Went and What We Did

I'm home and rested and chock full of blog fodder from my wonderful weekend in Austin, TX with Hubs.

We headed south Thursday morning and spent the afternoon and night in Dallas.  Our hotel was perfectly nice, except it was hosting (I couldn't make this up if I tried) a convention for Scottie dog owners.  It turns out that if someone is a devoted enough dog owner to attend a national convention, he's devoted enough to bring his dog with him.  So there we were, on our first getaway in ages, in a hotel full of DOGS.  Always one to turn lemons into lemonade, Hubs kept me entertained by barking every time we walked down the hall, setting off a chorus of barks in the neighboring rooms.

I love that man.

We left Dallas Friday morning, heading further south to Austin.  We were there for the wedding festivities of a close family friend.  We stayed at a gorgeous hotel, just steps away from the University of Texas ("in the belly of the beast" my UT-loathing Hubs kept muttering under his breath).  Here's a picture of where we stayed (it was straight out of Southern Living):

   

It was the kind of place with his-and-her robes hanging in the bathroom, bazillion-thread-count sheets and a view like this from the balcony of our room:

Here are some more pictures (and I swear I'm not rubbing it in, it's just that we so seldom stay in hotels that aren't, you know, next to a Shoney's, I thought I should commemorate the occasion for posterity):

As I said, we were there for a wedding.  We spent plenty of time R&R-ing just the two of us, but we did some celebrating with friends as well.  Friday night was the rehearsal dinner, held at a place which (we were told) is a hang-out of Matthew McConaughey's.  We two-stepped and boot-scooted and Cotton-Eyed-Joed until our feet hurt.  Here's a photo of Hubs and me all dressed up for the occasion (and no, we're not so dorky that we walk around Texas dressed like cowboys; it's how the invitation told us to dress):

Those fabulous boots I'm wearing were on loan from the ever-stylish Chilihead.

Saturday morning we had Tex Mex for BREAKFAST (they do that in Texas, evidently) and then did a little sight-seeing.  Undoubtedly, the funniest part was a walk through the flagship Whole Foods store--I have never seen such organic-ness in all my born days.  They had organic jelly beans, tampons and dogfood.  ("Why do dogs need organic food?  Don't they eat their own poop?" Hubs asked.)  Actually, the observations of my conservative, no-nonsense, Republican husband were hilariously priceless.  We walked through the courtyard (yes! a grocery store with a courtyard, which should tell you something) among all the folks eating their hummus, wearing "Give Peace a Chance" shirts.  Hubs told me he was resisting the urge to plop down next to them wearing a Haliburton t-shirt and chugging a Budweiser.

Have I mentioned how hard this man makes me laugh?

Saturday night's wedding was breathtaking and romantic and gorgeous under the open Texas sky.  I had many mushy wedding thoughts, but they're all worthy of a blog post of their own, so I'll save that for a later date. 

There's a lot more I could tell you (like my leisurely to visit to the mothership The Container Store; or the four--yes, FOUR--adorable skirts I found at my new favorite clothing store; or the gorgeous hotel tile-work I'm trying to figure out how to replicate in my kitchen; etc. etc. etc.) but this is much too long already.  Here's the nutshell version for those of you who skimmed to the last paragraph (and I don't blame you):  fun time, awesome Hubs, long naps, good shoes.  The End.

Evidently I Have Entered the World of Crime

Let me throw myself on your mercy for some advice, because I'm just as befuddled as I can be. 

There is a major north-south street in my city; on one side is a big church, and directly across is a high school.  Corrie and I were minding our happy little business this morning, toodling down this street, when a funeral procession pulled out of the church.  Along with the rest of the cars on the street, I pulled over to a complete stop, out of respect.  When the procession was past, I moved on along, but for only a few seconds--because what to my wondering eyes should appear, but blue lights in my rear-view mirror. 

I was pulled over for speeding in a school zone.  I was, according to the police officer, driving a wildly reckless 35 mph in a 25 mph zone.  He wrote me a ticket, without a dollar amount, because school zone infractions require (lovely!) a court date.  Next week I get to go alllll the way downtown at 8:30 in the morning to plead my case.

And I don't have the foggiest idea what to do.  I'm just as dull and law-abiding as they come, except for my one and only speeding ticket 16 years ago.  But I've watched enough Law and Order to have quite a little case prepared for myself, including:

• Are school zones even enforced at 12:30 in the afternoon?
• When I was pulled over, I had only been driving for a few seconds (after the funeral procession standstill).  I'm not even sure it's physically possible that I'd reached 35 mph yet.
• And even if I had, Your Honor, I'm the kind of girl who stops for funeral processions--don't I deserve a pass on this one?
• Especially, Your Honor, since I have such a squeaky-clean record?  I'm dull.  I drive a mini-van.  I don't jay-walk.  I'm on the PTA board.  I don't wear white shoes after Labor Day.  I have a Barry Manilow CD in my car, for Pete's sake.
• Here, Your Honor, is Exhibit A--the two-year-old little girl I had to bring with me today because I'm a stay-at-home mom and my childcare options are limited.  Isn't she cute?  Did you notice her pigtails?  If you'll let me go, I promise I'll make her stop singing 473 verses of Itsy Bitsy Spider right here in your courtroom.

Okay, seriously, though...how does this court-date stuff work?  Do I even try to say anything in my defense, or do I just smile and nod and show the judge my paperwork?  And is it a major faux pas to take a toddler with you to a court date?  What if she throws a sandwich at the judge?  Would I be jailed on assault charges? 

Y'all help me figure out what I should do.

Looking For a Few Good Reads?

I'm home (and oh, I have blog fodder) but I'm way too busy playing catch-up on laundry and kitchen and back-to-school stuff to post anything today.  Instead, let me direct to you some interesting things being said elsewhere...

• Barbara H has written a beautiful post on Christian community, as a part of Catez's series on the subject.  Don't miss it!
• This post by Antique Mommy makes me all goose-bumpy. 
• This post by Fiddledeedee made me laugh til my side hurts.  Not because I could relate to it, of course.  Noooo, not at all....
• I hope you all have BigMama on your regular reading list.  If you don't, you're missing a knee-slappin' good time.  Take this post, for example.  Good stuff.
• If any of you mommas of little ones find yourself discouraged these days, take heart at what Katherine has to say over at Raising Five.  I wish I had read this about seven years ago!
• One of my very first bloggy friends, Peach (formerly of Just Peachy), has "started over" at a gorgeous new blog, Without Fear.  Y'all go wish her a happy housewarming.

I'll be back tomorrow with a report and pictures of our fabuloso long weekend (assuming none of them make me look too chubby--if they do, you'll have to give me a couple of extra days to Photoshop off 20 pounds).

Odd Blessings

This post was originally published on Feburary 28, 2006.

Each night at bedtime, before we say prayers with our kids, we sing the Doxology together.  If you aren't familiar with it, the words begin, "Praise God from whom all blessings flow..."  But last night, I listened to my children sing it and realized that all this time my seven-year-old son has been singing it, "Praise God from whom ODD blessings flow..."

I suppressed a giggle and came downstairs to tell Hubs about it.  Though the more I thought about it, the more I realized there's some good theology in his little slip-up.  Praise God for the odd blessings--the ones that sneak up on us, the ones that don't even look like blessings until they're long past us.   Praise Him for the mixed bag, the curvy road, the speed bumps of life.  Sometimes the odd blessings are the best ones.

Grammatically Speaking

This post was originally published on August 29, 2006.

My mom is an English teacher.  "Ahhhhh," you're saying, "NOW I get it."

I grew up in a rural Arkansas town where poor grammar is as much a part of life as Friday night football.  Combine the two, and you had the weekly chant from the stands, as the refs carefully measured a play, "MOVE THEM CHAINS!  MOVE THEM CHAINS!"  Not my mother.  She instructed my brother and me that oh-yes-ma'am our family chants, "MOVE THOSE CHAINS!  MOVE THOSE CHAINS!"  We stood out a little, but around our house, it was appropriate to fall on your sword for good grammar. 

And it rubbed off on me, definitely.  The most romantic thing that happened to me in adolescence was a secret admirer who, for a period of a couple of weeks, covered my '78 powder blue Pontiac Grand Prix with flowers overnight, every night, as it sat in our driveway.  The first morning, when my mother and I dashed out to investigate, we snagged the note that was tucked under the windshield.  It read,

Shannon,

These are for you; I hope you enjoy them. 

E.B.T.

My mother and I, equally giddy, looked at each other and squealed, "HE USED A SEMI-COLON!"

So it should come as no surprise that my sweet Joseph crawled into my lap sniffling last week.  "Mom," he whimpered, "I hurt my toe badly." 

"Oh, sweet boy," I said, rubbing his foot.  "I'm so proud of you for using an adverb."

Bliss

Later this morning, my Hubs and I will climb into a car, just the two of us, and take an eight-hour road trip.  Just the two of us.  For four whole days.  Did I mention it would be just the two of us?

We don't get away like this very often, so when we do, it's a treasure.  I'll have a report of where we went when I get back--we're going somewhere lovely and fancy and grown-up.  In the meantime, I'll be away from the computer for a few days as I spend some time with this man 'o mine. 

"Do you want to do anything special on our trip?" my thoughtful man asked me.  He meant concerts or plays or side trips to new sights.

What do I want to do?

I want to talk and talk and laugh and talk with my husband until we're hoarse.

I want to stop at a convenience store and not have to take little bodies to the potty or argue about what movie we're watching next. 

I want to order room service.

I want to go dancing.

I want to wear the fantastic dress and strappy heels I bought, just for the occasion.

I want to eat at a restaurant without a playplace and not have to cut up anyone's food but my own.

I want to read from the stack of books I'm taking, uninterruped.

I want to do some, ahem, other things, uninterruped. 

And OH-for-the-love-of-all-that-is-good-and-quiet, I want to NAP.

I'll do all those things in the next few days, and I can hardly wait.  Y'all be good while I'm gone.

Let's Talk About Lost

A magic box? A MAGIC BOX?  I think we may have finally crossed the Weirdness Point Of No Return.  I personally would love such a magic box, and maybe I could look inside to find one of the Lost writers, and maybe he could explain to me WHAT IN THE HECK IS GOING ON WITH A MAGIC BOX. 

That said, the magic box (and really, it's hard to type that phrase with a straight face) would explain the appearance of some of the odd things on the island--Ecko's brother, Kate's horse, Walt's polar bear, etc.  So in a bizarre sort of way, I suppose that's an answer.  Of sorts.

What we DO know, without a doubt now, is that Locke definitely didn't want to leave the island.  And who can blame him?  But was it fair for him to sabotage everyone else's chance for escape?  He's quickly losing the "good guy" designation, in my book.  I would love to see him get some closure with his dad, though.

A couple of random questions...

Did anyone else notice the weird hand signals that Mr. Other Man gave to Jack when he let him in the room with Kate?  It almost looked like sign language.

Second, (and I can't take credit for this point--I saw it raised on a message board), how could Danielle live on the island all those years and not know about the existence of the "compound"?

And third, I continue to be distracted by the oddly contemporary clothing and furnishings available to these people.  The lamps in Jack's house looked like something straight out of Ikea.  So, if FedEx is making deliveries to our mysterious island, why do they need a submarine?  AND why do they need to continue eating the generic, white-packaged Dharma food?  I'd be ordering some Jif and Charmin.

Proving that there are many "levels" on which you can watch this show (the reason I love it!), here's a fantastic analysis.

Your thoughts?

Works For Me: Closing Comments

Remember, in two weeks we'll be having Works-For-Me Wednesday: The Car Edition. Give us your best tips for handling life on the go. How to entertain the kids, or keep up with your little league gear, or how to stock an auto first aid kit...let us know what works for you.

I really hesitate to share this tip with you, because I'm so afraid the Internet Trolls (you know, the ones who sell Via*gra! Cheap! and Legal!) will figure me out and ruin my nice little shortcut.  So I'm crossing my fingers and, in my mind, shooing away all the trolls. 

My blogging platform, Typepad, does offer spam protection on its comments.  But it's clunky, requiring readers to go to another screen altogether to enter a word-verification.  PLUS, it wasn't protecting me entirely from spam; I was still having to go through and delete a good bit with regularity.

A few months ago, it dawned on me that spam comments generally appear on older posts only (not sure why).  Add to this that it's very rare that a legitimate commenter posts a comment on an older post, and the obvious solution became clear:  I turned off comments on anything posted more than two weeks ago.  I took the clunky word verification feature off (for which many readers were thankful!) and I have not had a single spam comment since.  I just have to remember, every few days, to click through and turn off the comments on the older posts.  Easy.

If you're a Typepad user, you know that turning off comments is easy.  At your "list posts" page, you select the posts for which you want to turn off comments (and note, this doesn't delete the comments already there, it just won't let any new ones appear), and then choose "close comments" in the action bar at the bottom of the page. 

As for you folks on Blogger and other platforms, I'm afraid I'm not much help.  I vaguely recall, from my Blogger days, that this was possible, but if anyone wants to post instructions in my comments section below, I would be oh-so-grateful.

Works for me!

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It's Nice To Be Understood

We were running late for church Sunday morning, so late that I didn't have time for my morning injection of caffeine can of Diet Coke.  That is a dangerous way for me to start my day, and I grumbled about it as we climbed into the car.

Fast forward to after church, when I scolded nine-year-old Adam for something I thought he had done, only to learn it was his brother who was the criminal in question.  I quickly apologized for jumping to conclusions.  Adam flashed me a mischievous grin.

"It's okay, Mom," he said with exaggerated sympathy.  "I know you have anger-management issues when you don't get your Diet Coke in the morning."

That little stinker.

That little absolutely right stinker.

My World Turned Upside Down, In a Really, Really Good Way

Something very big is happening to our family--something hugely, remarkably wonderful.  I haven't talked about it much, and I haven't written about it at all, because I hardly have the words to express my excitement. 

In two days, my parents are closing on a house and will begin the process of moving in.  The house is one mile from mine.   

My parents have lived in the same little town where I grew up for ages--my dad has spent his entire life there, except for a few short years during and right after college.  This is a huge change for them.  They're going into semi-retirement and moving to Our City, starting over with a new house and new friends and new drivers' licenses and new dry cleaners and all the other "beginnings" that come with an inter-state move.

And I'm so excited I can hardly contain myself.  Except for a brief time, years ago, when our younger siblings lived in our city, Hubs and I have never had family in town--certainly not grandparents.  I have looked with envy at my friends whose parents are nearby.  For my parents to see the kids' plays or soccer matches or church programs has been a huge undertaking, requiring planning and overnight visits.   Not anymore. 

More than a couple of my friends have raised their eyebrows when I've told them parents will be living so close to us.  "Is that going to be, um, okay?" they ask skeptically.  It will.  I'm blessed with parents who are really good at being parents to their adult kids.  They have become our friends, our cheerleaders, our sounding boards.  They give generously of their time while still maintaining healthy boundaries.  Hubs and I are very blessed. 

And we're very proud.  It's no small thing to start over the way they are.  They've reasoned (wisely) that it makes sense for them to live near their adult kids, and it makes even more sense to do it when they're young and healthy enough to build a life for themselves. 

And so, with much excitement, we're all embarking on a new adventure, learning to navigate life with grandparents (*squeal*) just a few streets away.  Once they're settled, they will move my grandmother here as well.  We'll have a town full of family, and we couldn't be happier about it. 

So Happy

A new phrase has entered our family lingo, courtesy of my two-year-old daughter Corrie.  When faced with a moment of extreme joy (such as an unexpected cookie or--I'm not kidding--a stroll through the Target shoe section), she'll look up at me and sigh, "So happy, Momma."

And my heart melts into the gooiest of puddles.

Her ability to find the happiness in the simplest of things convicts me to my core.  The frantic pace of daily life keeps my eyes focused on the Next Thing I Have To Do.  The patches of clover in my front yard remind me it's time to put down weed killer.  But they make my daughter giggle with joy, "Ooooo...fwowers!"

She's teaching me things, that girl of mine.  This morning she climbed onto the couch for her daily dose of Dora.  I turned on her show and started to leave the room to tackle the kitchen.  But she looked at me and patted the seat next to her.  "Sit," she commanded gently.  I looked at that little face, still puffy from sleep, and my to-do list suddenly seemed very trivial.  I crawled onto the couch with her and covered us with a soft fleece blanket.  She climbed into my lap and, with complete abandon, threw her chubby arms around my neck.  As I kissed her hair, (it smelled of sweet apple shampoo), I heard her sigh contentedly. 

I knew what she was about to say.  But this time I beat her to the punch.

"So happy, Corrie," I sighed.

So happy.