Rocks In My Dryer

Lost Recap: The Variable

SPOILER ALERT:  Don't read any further if you don't want to know what happens!

One word:  Finally.

Finally, some back story on Faraday and Eloise.  Finally, an update on how Desmond is doing (he's fine, thanks). 

We learned that Eloise and Widmore are Daniel's parents, which is not a huge surprise.  Once again, we see the recurring Lost theme of complicated parent issues.  Eloise may win the prize for Most Dysfunctional Lost Parent So Far, though, sending her son back to the Island, knowing she herself would kill him.  (And what is her motivation to do this?  What did she have to gain by sending Daniel back?  Why wouldn't she want to protect him?)

Faraday offers an interesting solution for the problem of our Losties, suggesting that destroying the giant energy pocket underground would prevent the pre-Oceanic-815 events from ever kicking into gear.  My grasp on this whole time-travel plot is so tenuous that I'm not sure I can debate this properly.  But something about Daniel's theory seems convoluted.  If they did prevent the plane crash, they wouldn't have been on the Island, which would mean that they wouldn't be involved in the mission to destroy the energy pocket.  Maybe I'm too simple, but the "whatever happened, happened" theory ("WHH", as it's called on the message boards) is the only one that makes sense to me.   

Furthermore, would any of our Oceanic 815 friends really want for that plane to have gone safely on to Los Angeles?  Think about it.  If the crash never happened, Jack and Kate would never have met, and Kate would be on her way to prison.  Jin and Sun would be back in their dysfunctional marriage.  Rose would have cancer.  John would be in a wheelchair.  I hope, at some point in next week's episode, Jack realizes this.  I hope he looks at Kate and says, "Wait a minute, I don't want to prevent the plane crash.  Because if the only way I can know you is to have gone through grungy Hostiles and flaming arrows and creepy cabins and undead fathers and talking birds, then sweetheart, I'd do it all over again in continuous time-loop fashion for all eternity."  THAT is how you woo a woman, Jack.

But if Daniel is right and they do change the past, wouldn't that be a curious final episode?  Can you imagine watching Oceanic 815 touching down in LA, and watching Jack, Kate, John, Sawyer and all the rest simply disembarking quietly, as total strangers?  Somehow that seems like a terribly unsatisfying ending, and I hope the writers don't do that to us.

There were lots of good quotes in the running for Quote of the Night, but the winner goes to Daniel Faraday for "I'm from the future."  Mostly because I'm impressed he could deliver that line with a straight face.

I'd love to hear what you though of tonight's episode.  If you're blogging Lost at your own blog, feel free to leave your link in the comments section.

Hope

I hope you've heard about the Compassion bloggers over in India this week.  Maybe a little part of you has steered clear of their stories.  It's painful to hear about dying orphans and oppressive poverty.  It might be a little more pleasant to think of that as a problem that is happening Over There, which is certainly Not Here, and it's awful, truly, but there's nothing I can do.

But here's the thing.

Compassion's story is, ultimately, a story of hope.  It's about a problem that is slowly but surely being solved, one child at a time, because people like you opened their eyes to the stories. 

So don't fear clicking on these stories.  When you take them to heart, when you take the plunge and sponsor a child, you've become part of the solution.   

Read on, friends, and do something....

Shaun writes about how the Sparkes family in the UK is changing the life of a 12-year-old Indian girl.

Anne writes about living with less so you can do more.

Robin shows us what real hospitality looks like.

Melissa really delves into what God thinks of the poor.

Pete shares a video that shows you what a Compassion project looks like.

And Angie tells us what it feels like when the Gospel sits in your lap.

May: It's the New December

Ah, Spring. The little robins settle in a nest outside my window. The azaleas explode into bloom. And my calendar nearly implodes under the weight of itself.  {read more at Parenting.com}

And They're Off...

This is a big day today for a handful of bloggers.  They're headed to India, to the city Calcutta (or Kolkata, as I think we're supposed to call it now, but I'm sorry, the old 5th-grade geography sticks with me).  They're going with Compassion International to live-blog what they see.  I suspect that they, and those of us following along at home, are about to have our comfy American socks knocked off. 

When Shaun was first telling me about this trip several months ago, he mentioned what a challenge it would be for those bloggers who will try to describe it adequately.  He explained that the poverty on the streets of Calcutta is like no other poverty in the world, so vast is its scope.  Please join in me praying for these bloggers--for their safety, for their families back at home, for their own hearts as they try to tell us some powerful stories.

And please pray, most of all, that their words will resonate with those who have not, perhaps, heard of Compassion's powerful work.  If people can see and understand how Compassion is bringing true hope to a dark situation, and if they'll join in the effort, children will be sponsored.  Lives will be saved. 

So please pray, and follow along with these bloggers as they tell their stories.  (Barring any technical or logistical issues, I'm hoping that one of the bloggers, my friend Robin, will be guest-posting here next week.)  I shared a couple of days ago my concerns about what is not, perhaps, quite right with the blogosphere, and many of you kindly expressed they were concerns you shared too.  But this India trip?  This is the power of the blogosphere at its highest and very best.

Be a part of it, and help spread the word.

No, Really, I'm Fine

I've gotten many kind e-mails from people who have wondered why I've not been blogging as much lately.  Are you shutting it down? they've asked.  Is something wrong?

(By the way, thank you to those of you who have asked.  I'm amazed and flattered that anyone would even wonder.) 

No, I'm not shutting it down, and no, nothing is wrong.  On the contrary, things feel very right right now, as I've wandered through a sweet period of reflecting and wrestling and breathing and re-evaluating what my place should (and shouldn't) be in this curious on-line world.   

I've wondered if I should articulate some of things I'm learning and realizing.  I have now officially started and then deleted eight posts on the subject.  It's the quintessential dilemma for a good Southern girl--balancing one's need to offer an explanation without presuming that anybody really requires one.  Not to mention, one of the most convicting realizations I've come to is that blogging may just fuel in us (and by "us", of course, I mean "me") a need to articulate everything.  I wonder sometimes if our culture is veering away from the very fine art of simply keeping some things to ourselves.  Sometimes the best words are the ones we don't say.   

(In other words, I think writing a 47-part blogging series about Why We Probably Shouldn't Be Blogging So Much might be a little disingenous, don't you think?)

In a nutshell, I entered the Lenten season several weeks ago in a state of burn-out and exhaustion--all of it entirely of my own making.  The reflectiveness and quiet of Lent helped me get a fresh perspective on a few things--things in both my on-line world and in the real one.  I'm coming more and more to the conclusion that we (I) seem to be operating in a fog of sensory overload.   We blog and Twitter and Facebook.  We have cell phones and multiple e-mail addresses.  We're so plugged in we're almost motorized, and it's exhausting. 

I have (and please, insert giant flashing lights here, because I want to be sure I make this clear) been able to witness some beautiful, even life-changing things happen as a direct result of blogging.  There's plenty of good in it, and I would be remiss not to point that out.

But there is undendiable part of blogging that feeds a part of us (me) that is, perhaps, not the most sensible part: the part that craves to "measure" ourselves, the part that is naturally drawn to a false sense of urgency, the part that needs to be heard even when there's not really anything to say. 

In other words, I've spent a little time evaluating (unpleasantly, at times) whether I was not only affected by this problem, but maybe I was also part of it. 

Ouch.

Despite a very sweet time of feeling refreshed and reflective, I can't say that I've come to any brilliant conclusions.  I do not think that blogging is pure evil and must be avoided or society will surely fail.  But I also think that I've probably let myself go a little off-course, when I reflect back to why I started doing this in the first place.  I look back and wonder if I've contributed to the "noise level" that seems to be wearing out me and so many of the women I know.  I think I have, at times, and I'm sorry.

What I do know is that I want to keep at this, but in a way different than I've done it before.  It's almost become something of a personal exercise, seeing if I can navigate this peculiar world in a way that is more balanced.  A very dear friend (and brilliant writer) reminded me recently that the best words are the ones that are punctuated with enough silence between them.  

As evidenced by the rambly length of this post, I clearly do not have much of a track record with silence.

But I'm working on it, and this, for now, is my little workshop. 

The Great Vacation Quest of 2009

There are many joys intrinsically linked to the process of parenting.  Certainly there’s nothing like watching the light of understanding flicker on in a child’s eyes when he first learns to read.  Or there’s the heartwarming delight of seeing two kids embark on the lifelong friendship of siblinghood.  It’s a great joy and privilege for me, as a mother, to be a part of life experiences like these.

You know what else is a joy and privilege?

Messing with their heads...

{read more at Parenting.com} 

An Open Letter To the People In the Fashion Industry Who Design Clothes For Grown Women

Dear Fashion People,

Today I went to the mall to buy a shirt.  Just a shirt.  Something girly and springy to put with my khaki capris, something dressier than the solid knit shirts that serve as my spring and summer uniform.

I looked and I looked and I have finally reached a breaking point on an issue that has bugged me for some time:

The camisole.

Everything requires a cami, seemingly by design.  It's a vast layering conspiracy, and the salesgirls are in on it.  I come out of the dressing room wearing a shirt that plunges down to there.  "Is it supposed to be this low-cut?" I ask.

"Oh," she says, "just throw a cami under it."

So I try on something else.  The bodice has a lot of eyelet-ish trim on it, and eyelet has holes.  Holes, all over my abdomen, including one gaping open over my most impressive stretch mark.

"Oh," salesgirl says, "just throw a cami under it."

Round three.  It looks like a safe-enough white shirt, until I put it on and realize it's almost completely sheer.  Bridal-veil sheer.

"Oh," salesgirl says, (all together now) "just throw a cami under it."

But here's the deal:  I don't want to throw a cami under it.  I don't want two shirts.  I want one shirt.  My reasons are excellent:

1.  I'm cheap and I'm out of closet space.  A cami is one more thing to buy, launder, store and generally deal with.  Let's keep it simple.

2.  I live in Oklahoma.  In the summer, it is hot.  Melt-your-skin-off hot.  Even-the-pool-water-is-too-warm hot.  What's-wrong-with-the-A/C hot.  If I have to endure that heat wearing two layers of clothing, I might be (*shudder*) tempted to remove the top layer, which brings me to point three...

3.  Ever since I hit puberty, I have devoted a signficant amount of effort to making sure that my bra strap doesn't show.  And even if your cami matches your bra, your bra strap shows.  I don't like that.  I suspect you would recommend I find a cami with a built-in bra, to which I respond that such bras were not created for women who have nursed four children, and that's all I have to say about that.

4.  I'm a middle-aged woman.  I'm not overweight, but still, I have a general layer of padding around my mid-section, and it is a cause of consternation.  The last thing I want to do is add another layer of squishiness.  Your cami fabric may be thin, but if I wanted to add two milimeters of thickness to my abdomen, I'd much rather do it at Krispy Kreme.

Perhaps you will say that you have introduced the cami as a "stylish accessory" which provides "fashionable layering options".

I don't believe you.

I think you want to sell two shirts.

And I'd march right up to Madison Avenue and tell you this in person, except I'm stuck in the dressing room in a see-through blouse. 

Sincerely,

Shannon

Lost Recap: Some Like It Hoth

SPOILER ALERT:  Don't read any further if you don't want to know what happens!

Happy tax day!  I was thinking this morning what a nice diversion it was to have a Lost episode to divert me from the giant sucking sound in my wallet today.  (Perhaps it bears pointing out that the Lost plot may be only slightly clearer than the U.S. tax code.  Heck of a lot more entertaining, though.)

Tonight's episode was centered around Miles Straume, a man with an uncanny ability to speak to dead people (not to mention an uncanny resemblance to Jon Gosselin).  The producers said in the Lost podcast earlier this week that this was an episode they were especially proud of.  No doubt this is because of the lighthearted humor--it was an interesting change of pace.  Miles and Hurley's friendship is quickly becoming one of the more endearing relationships on the show, don't you think?  (The idea of Hurley writing the screenplay for The Empire Strikes Back?  Brilliant, and hilarious.)

So, Miles is the son of Pierre Chang/Marvin Candle.  This isn't a huge surprise--many people had theorized this was the case.  Once again, we have a complicated parent-child relationship, a recurring theme on the show.

We also got more evidence that Widmore planted the fake Oceanic airplane wreckage in the ocean (or did he?  Perhaps the dead man Miles "interviewed" was bringing evidence of Ben's grave-robbing misbehavior--I don't think we'll know for sure which of those guys is the bad one until the last moment.)   

Daniel Farraday is BACK, for which I'm ever grateful.  Interestingly, he recognized Miles, even though they hadn't met in 1977.  Daniel, it would seem, navigates and processes time travel more naturally, like Desmond does.  Any ideas why?  (And incidentally, do we know how Daniel got off the Island, after Charlotte's death?)

Tonight's episode was full of excellent quotes, but my two favorites come from, of course, Hurley:

"It'll help with global warming, which hasn't happened yet, so maybe we can prevent it."

- and -

"The Ewoks suck, Dude."

I can't wait to see what the "special" is next week.  Wouldn't it be great if they were playing some momentous Lost clips in actual, sequential order?

What did you think about tonight's episode?  If you're blogging about it at your own blog, feel free to leave your link in the comments section.

When Dad Leaves Town

My husband was out of town all week last week. He was fulfilling a life-long dream of getting to attend The Master’s in Augusta, Georgia, and he drove cross-country with my brother, my dad, and my uncle to see it. (He made a pit stop at Talladega Superspeedway, calling me from his cell to find out if I wanted my Ricky Bobby tube top to be in rhinestones or glitter. That has nothing to do with anything, except that it’s been making me laugh all week.)...  {read more at Parenting.com}

Sometimes Having a Blog Is Handy...

...like, when you need to make a biggish purchase and don't know where to start.

My digital camera is dead as a doornail.  It's not an overly expensive one, and it served me well.  But I know the drill, because I've done it before--if I take it to the camera place, they will tell me it's more economical to replace it than to repair it.  (Since when did our electronic devices become disposable?  But that's a post for another day...)

With soccer season, birthday season, and end-of-school season just around the corner, I know I can't make it very long without a camera.  I'm not a photo buff; I know digital SLRs are wonderful, but I just can't justify the expense.  Here's what I'm looking for:

Never mind, I have no idea what I'm looking for, because I don't possess the terminology to know what I'm looking for.  Here's a revolutionary thought:  I want to press the little button and get good pictures.  I don't want it to suck my bank account dry.  I want it to have decent zoom for soccer pictures.  I don't want an overly long delay when I press the little button (I hate that about digital cameras).  And as long as I'm making my wish list, I'd like for it to be able to stop by and pick up milk on the way home and establish peace in the Middle East.

If you have bought a lower-to-mid-priced digital camera in the last few months, I would love to know what you bought, and what you think.  I know I could just Google it for reviews, but I always encounter words like "aperture" and "contrast ratio", while my photographic vocabulary is limited to "that little silver button thingy." 

Help me, Internet.  You're my only hope. 

Indeed

Arise, arise,

And with His burial-linen dry thine eyes.

Christ left His grave-clothes, that we might, when grief

Draws tears or blood, not want a handkerchief.

George Herbert, Anglican priest, 1593-1633

Lost Recap: Dead Is Dead

SPOILER ALERT!  Don't read any further if you don't want to know what happened.

From the start, tonight was shaping up to be a Smoke-Monster-centric episode.  I was pretty hopeful, thinking maybe we'd get, I don't know, a Smoke Monster flashback.  As in, the Smoke Monster sitting in a bar in Sydney having a beer with Sawyer.  Or the Smoke Monster in 1947 having rebellious issues with his Smoke Monster Daddy.

Alas, there was no flashback, but we did learn what the inside of the Smoke Monster looks like, and it is--are you ready for this ground-breaking piece of information?--gray and smoky.   

I'm glad we got that all cleared up. 

(Actually, that scene reminded me of the scene in the movie Twister when Helen Hunt and Bill Paxton got hoisted up into the tornado and finally saw the inside of a funnel cloud, and it was very surreal and it sucked the pants right off them.  May I just say how thankful I am that Benjamin Linus kept his pants on?)

Where was I?  Oh yes, the Smoke Monster.  We did confirm what has been evident before, which is that the Smoke Monster has some sort of connection with everyone who has ever died on The Island, leading to my reassertion--mark my words--that we'll be seeing Charlie, Shannon, Ekko, Boone, et. al. before this thing is over.

Ben Linus continues to be a curious character, committing horrific acts while showing signs of tenderness.  Instead of killing Danielle Rousseau, as he was assigned to do, he spared her and took baby Alex.  And though he was bent on killing Penny, he seemed to have second thoughts when he saw her little boy.  I don't think I'll be inviting him to babysit my kids anytime soon, but it's nice to see the occasional glimmer of humanity in him.

(Did you stand and cheer in the scene in which Desmond defended his family by beating the ever-lovin' bat-snot out of Ben?  Because I stood and cheered.)

I am a little puzzled by Ilana, the woman who escorted Sayid onto the Ajira flight.  She originally seemed like a minor character, but tonight it appeared she had some inside information.  Who is she?  Who really sent her to The Island?  She spoke about "what lies in the shadow of the statue" (presumably this statue), but I wonder what she means?

Here are a few more points to ponder:

Who was it that banished Widmore from The Island for "breaking the rules"?  Jacob?

Do you think Ben will honor Alex's instructions to follow John Locke?  I'm thinking that if you kill someone and then they come back from the dead, shove you into a wall and give you specific instructions, you MIGHT want to take it seriously.

Did anyone else miss Jack, Kate and Sawyer?  I found myself wondering what our friends were up to in 1977, other than listening to The Carpenters and wearing bad pants.

When Ben told Danielle to "run from the whispers", was he protecting her, or messing with her?

I'm having a hard time choosing a Best Line Of the Night, because John Locke had some great zingers in his scenes with Ben, including:

"I was just hoping for an apology."

- and -

"Then I'm sure the monster will understand."

- and -

"No sense in me dying twice, right?"

- and -

"You just make friends everywhere you go, don't you?" 

But the winner for tonight was Frank Lapidus, who had this to say:  "As long as the dead guy says there's a reason, then I guess everything is gonna be just peachy."

I love it.

What were your thoughts about tonight's episode?  If you're blogging Lost over at your blog, feel free to leave your link in the comments section below.

Google Fun

In an effort to see if I have even a drop of blogging mojo left, here's a quick stab at my favorite blogging pasttime:  collecting the various Google searches that people use to find my site.  Lately I've had some good ones...

hamsters loose in the garage how do I catch them?  Step 1) Make sure the garage door is closed.  Step 2) Come back inside.  Step 3) Announce to your household that this is why you gave birth to sons.  Step 4) Hand them a bucket. 

if you'd eat more comfort food you wouldn't have to go around shooting people  It's a quote from Lost, just for the record, but there's some stellar wisdom there.

two year old not talking at all not even babbling  Yes, I've been there, twice, actually.  My best advice would be to schedule a consultation with a speech pathologist.  The minute she steps foot in the room, your taciturn child will open his mouth, quote Shakespeare, and diagram sentences.  You will sit there in shock, your mouth gaping open, uttering not a word, and the pathologist will wonder if you are the one in need of therapy.  Ask me how I know.

are my expectations realistic?  I'm not sure Google can help you with this.  You might try Dr. Phil.

gag clean out refrigerator  Me too, sister.  Me too.

cheesecake chimichangas  Me too, sister.  Me too.

i've tried everything to catch a mouse  Hey, me too.  What finally worked for me was beef jerky actually TIED ONTO a 99-cent mousetrap.  Not at all helpful were glue traps, poison traps, screaming, broom-whacking, a college degree and a houseful of strapping sons.  Good luck.

poop in dryer  Yes, it happened once, but how did you know?  I don't want to talk about it.

dog giveaway  Oh, I feel your pain.  Having to give away a dog is terribly painful.  Not as painful as carpet that perpetually smells of pee, but still painful.

curse upon thee  Rough day?

my baby ate my deoderant  True story:  When my oldest was about 20 months old, I was getting ready in my bathroom while he watched a show on TV.  I peeked around the corner to check on him.  To my horror, I saw that I had accidentally left out a squirt bottle of kitchen cleaner, and Adam was raising it to his mouth.  I shrieked and jerked it away, but I decided to call Poison Control anyway, just in case even a drop of the cleaner had touched his lips.  They assured me it was fine, and I hung up the phone.  I sat down on my bed to recover from my weak knees and racing heart, dropping my head into my hands.  And I looked up to see Adam walking out of my bathroom, carrying my deoderant--he had TAKEN A BITE OUT OF IT.  And in that moment, I learned the hard way that the only thing worse than having to call Poison Control before 9 a.m. is having to call Poison Control TWICE before 9 a.m.

compassion international please t-shirt  (Mom, is that you?  Because you are the only person I know who would actually say "please" to Google.) 

you are crazy if you think I would wait  Sorry.  I got nothin'.

sharpie kitchen cabinets  Try a dab of nail polish remover for the cabinets.  And maybe an equally strong liquid for the momma.  

rocks dryer blog dumplin recipe  I'm not sure what pleases me more:  the idea that someone specifically searched for a recipe of mine, or that they had the uncommon good sense to remember to leave the "g" off "dumplin".

is there really such a thing as potty training?  Oh, sister.  I feel your pain.

cat caught in dryer  Really, it's like I'm the Lifetime Television version of Google searches, what with all the drama.

should older women wear bows in their hair?  Please know I say this with all the kindess and goodwill in my heart:

No.

tocks in y dryer  And yet you still found me.

Over at Parenting...

...I'm blogging about the day I really became a mom, also known as The Day I Nearly Tackled the Boss's Wife.  You can read it here.

Would-Be Groom Drops Ring On Busy Bridge :: Today Show
Oh my stars, my heart just sank.

Tim Hawkins Hedge of Protection :: Tangle

World Autism Day :: To Think Is To Create

We Interrupt the Serious :: Queen B
I can always appreciate a good Sonic narrative.

Accidents Happen :: 5 Minutes for Parenting
by Veronica

Generation Diva: How Our Obsession With Beauty Is Changing Our Kids  :: Newsweek

Rapping Flight Attendant :: Tangle