Reason is the Reason for the Season

Secular humanists are getting in on the holiday spirit this year. Sort of.

The American Humanist Association and similar groups are plastering up billboards and running TV ads about leading a good life without God. One billboard, a copy of which was defaced in Idaho recently, states "Millions of people are good without God."

In time for Christmas one will go up outside New York picturing the nativity and reading "You know its a myth. This season celebrate reason." I am reminded of Mr. Costanza's festivus, where the merry tree was replaced by a boring pole.

As drab as atheism, especially the Baby Boomer variety, has always seemed I can't say this campaign is so terrible. That is, as long as it really inspires all those good Cartesians who only believe in themselves to behave as best they can.

The thinly veiled truth is these groups are seeking converts.

The good thing is billboards and ads rarely work for all us crazy God-fearers so I don't think they will work for the secular humanists either.

I often think of modern atheism as a sect of Christianity as it seems most (not all) of its adherents come out of churches in the West. What would atheism and agnosticism be without the faith it rejects? Joseph Bottum has some good things to say about that.

Feeling Sheepish

A little recommendation. If you haven't seen it already, I highly suggest watching "Shaun the Sheep." It is easily my favorite BBC show since "The Mighty Boosh." Shaun is a little sheep previously featured in a Wallace and Grommit short.

The series follows Shaun and his fellow flock, the farmer, and the sheep dog as they go about their days on the English farm. All stop animation, clever like W&G, and no actual talking. Lucy and I have enjoyed watching the 20 minute episodes in the afternoon. I think it is age appropriate but some might find the cranky farmer a bad example, or the underwear jokes and slapstick too much for little ones. I happen to think it is a nice change of pace from all the edutainment stuff on PBS and Nick. Kids deserve a break from numbers and reading once in a while, after all.

The whole first season is up on Netflix right now if you are interested.

Me, Jane Lynch, and Tyra Banks walk into a bar...

I am always a little behind the times. Tonight I started watching "Glee" reruns online. Any other sing-songy teen dramedy fans out there? The show is entertaining though I was surprised at the innuendo. Don't know if it is for the 16 and under crowd I thought the show attracted.

Now as much as I love Journey covers and Jane Lynch, what was most interesting to me was the mentioning of life issues from the get go. So far (just 1.5 episodes into last season) the show's touched on IVF, euthanasia, and contraception-- the first is poked at a bit ("I was a love child... conceived in a lab"), the second ascribed to the villainous Ms. Sylvester, and the third roundly defended as the only sensible answer to the problems of premarital sex.

If such things can be mentioned off the cuff they must be deep in the American mind, no? Glee will certainly be a decent substitute while I recuperate from the most disappointing television phenomena that shall not be named (*cough... lost*). It will also fit in nicely, I think, with my all time favorite show, Tyra, what with the sermonizing about condoms and great hair and all that.

Old color photos, Mary turns 2035 or so

I'm sure those of you more familiar with photography than I already know about these incredible pictures. Alan and I were floored by what we saw. When you have a minute I recommend sitting down to look at these color photos and appreciate that they were all taken about 100 years ago.


How can you forget your mother's birthday, right? I mean, I am not good with birthdays but I at least remember my mom's. Today I forgot Mary's (as in Jesus' mother) birthday and feel just awful. I just now read about all the children around the world who brought flowers to shrines and made special food-- Lucy is now in bed and I didn't mention anything about the significance of the day. I could blame being raised Protestant, or that the kids and I have a cold, but these are lousy excuses.

At the very least we will celebrate in some way tomorrow, pray we remember next year, and perhaps I will find something that correlates to post here tomorrow.

Misc: apology, miners, R&B, etc.

First off, I am sorry to all of you who left comments on my blog in the past few months only to find they never appeared. I was unaware that when you monitor comments, which I had to due to spam, Blogger does not alert you to their presence. Here I was feeling sorry for myself and those Few Faithful Readers were still following this thing. Sorry, and thanks.

Mark Shea is a Catholic writer who I really want to not like-- he is an abrasive Irish ass-- but usually find he is spot on. Here's some food for thought from Mr. Shea, how he handles intrinsic evils when it comes to politics and voting.

I've been following the story of the Chilean miners daily. It sparked a conversation about survival between Alan and I. We found an interesting list of survival tales and were especially intrigued by the one about Steven Callahan. Ever since a classmate of Alan's was lost to the wilderness in Glacier National Park a few years back, such tales have become more sobering than they are sensational to us.

Anyone else remember the Blu Cantrell song "Hit 'Em Up Style" from 2001 or so? Here is a folksy version of it by my new favorite band, Carolina Chocolate Drops. A great new way to enjoy an R&B/pop favorite.



Will be back to my usual abortion hating self tomorrow, I promise.

NPR: a favored soft target hates on humans again

As I cruise around town, running errands with the kids, I listen to NPR. It serves three purposes:

1) I build up a better toleration to simpering, Baby Boomer liberalism

2) Tuck away bits of information that can be turned into small talk at all these social gatherings I've been attending

3) Avoid Top 40 stations

There is plenty to roll my eyes at-- like the recent story "Chinese Experiment Seeks Secret to Happiness" where Chinese psychologists, and the NPR reporters along with them, are baffled about why so many people in China are unhappy. It is confusing why the recent flood of consumerism into the nation wouldn't counterbalance the fact that their lovely, ancient civilization has been smashed to pieces by an oppressive government.

Anyway, what I really want to complain about is this bit on "un-natural selection" as they call it (listen for yourself, it is very short). They rehash the old notion that all this medical science, while keeping people alive and healthier for longer, is also perpetuating "bad genes" which undoes all those glorious eons of survival of the fittest. People who otherwise would not survive long enough to bear children now can thanks to scientific advances.

Joe Palaca says directly "But now, in some cases, we choose to keep these bad mutations around."

And this is followed up by the sound of a crying baby.

Ah yes, the bad mutation baby. I can't help but think there are people out there who really loathe the thought of sharing food, water, and the oxygen we are supposedly running out of with people whose genes are less than "perfect."

"But abortion isn't about eugenics at all!" say the detractors. "It isn't ever about weeding out the people that make some other people uncomfortable, abortion is just about personal choices." Right.

The Chuavanistic Sexists at ZPG

“The 50 poorest countries on earth are also those with the highest fertility rates.”

So says the Zero Population Growth website. Does anyone else see this as terribly sexist? In other words, “Wherever women en masse are not guarding the Pandora’s Box (no giggling) of their uteri, starvation and poverty are sure to follow.”

So much for advances in feminism. No, no, it can’t be that the people in India grow enough food to feed themselves only to see it exported elsewhere and that is a significant cause of their suffering—it is because Mrs. Patel does not have proper access to birth control or an abortion clinic, and she has six children as a result. Did anyone ever bother to ask Mrs. Patel if maybe she intended to have all those kids?

Oh wait, the Zero Population people have that covered in another section on their site, “Defending Women’s Rights.” They say over 200 million women worldwide want fewer children than they have. With no stats to back that up, as far as I can tell. I recently read “Women in the Material World” which chronicles in photos and interviews the lives of women around the globe. Most of the women claimed they wanted fewer children than they had according to their little profiles:

Favorite Activity: Watching TV

Number of Children: 6

Number of Children Desired : 3

Number of children hardly came up in the printed interviews. And I have to wonder if "facts" like these are prompted by poor ethnographic tactics. Who wants to let down the pleasant American lady with a camera and notebook? Tell her what she wants to hear and get her the hell out of your rice paddy.

The Z.P.G. people love the saying “an ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure.” Sites like this have a ton of information on how $1 million spent on birth control will keep so many children in the future from starving with so many less brothers and sisters to fight with over the food. But this does absolutely nothing for the children starving now (unless our pharmaceuticals companies have finally found a way to make birth control pills fulfill our daily requirement of vitamins along with curing acne, preventing bone thinning, and gentling down that nasty PMS).

It is chauvinistic for a bunch of white men and women from the West to tell women in the third world what to do with their bodies (I dare someone to frame it in a different light!), and it is sexist to accuse women as the ushers of poverty and destruction in the world.

What's the News?

I recently asked "what's the news?" of a friend and he was so confused. Is this a regional expression? Or maybe it is too archaic and I should stick with "what's up?" instead?

Anyway, the few hangers on of this blog often tell me they like me to find interesting things to read for them. Here are some recycled bits from other people's blogs:

Baby boomers and movies, or how our parents' generation screwed things up (you know how I feel about those hippies)

David Bentley Hart on the death of Christian culture

Food for thought on migrant workers in Arizona

(And about this last article, I agree with the blogger that Christian charity should be shown to these migrant workers and their families. But what the hell does that have to do with the GOP? I cannot stand the association of Christian morality with Republicans any more than I can stomach liberals hijacking choice church teachings for themselves.

For the record, when the US government is sitting around with its you know what up its you know where (I worked for Migrant Education for two years, I know how little the gov't does for these kids) the Catholic Church and many Protestant denominations are busy feeding, clothing, and educating migrant families. Christian charity is in abundance for these families even when sensibility from our politicians is nowhere to be found. )

If you want links to juicy stuff in the news that intersects with matter of morality and faith I suggest frequenting the Anchoress and New Advent.

Down on Dayton

We have only been in Dayton for a matter of weeks so I am not going to jump to any conclusions but the locals seem kind of down on Dayton. Before we moved here all I read online was reviews about what a dump the city is. Most of the people who grew up here tell me how much they hate it; there is a constant apology from the natives I chat up in the grocery store and at meet ups.

I don't see what is so bad about Dayton. I mean, the people drive like lunatics but that is Ohio (sorry Ohioans). And everyone seems a little grumpy but that is the state of our nation right now and I did just move from Kentucky, the friendliest place I've ever lived.

Young people here especially seem dissatisfied with their city. One young man on a review of the place said "Dayton is a great place to live if you just want to go to work, watch TV, shop at chain stores on the weekend." I wonder if he realizes this is reality for most of the people in places like Manhattan and San Fransisco, too. Besides, Dayton has culture hiding in many places. There is a farmers market and an art district downtown, the local Boston Stoker coffee brand has shops across town, lots of immigrant families from Eastern Europe, and historical sites throughout.

My guess is the people who don't think much of Dayton have seen it in better days and find its current state depressing or else they imagine life elsewhere is so much more exciting. We have come with a different perspective and so I think Alan and I are bound to see Dayton with fresh eyes, as a place worthy of exploring and, someday, even loving.

Broken AC 2010

When I was pregnant with Lucy our window unit air conditioner broke. Well, the good one broke. We were left with a crummy little one that could barely keep the square foot in front of it comfortable. Then last summer in Washington we went through a "heatwave" (95 degrees at its peak) with nothing but box fans to keep us cool until it passed.

Early this morning Alan woke me up. "The air won't come on," he said. My first thought was, whatever this is we have to fix it ourselves. We checked the thermostat, went into the basement to look for glaring problems, Alan ventured out to the compressor in the backyard (which was harrowing as we were in the midst of our first Ohio thunderstorm-- scary). Long story short we have to have an electrician come out tomorrow morning to fix our breaker box.

Like everything else in Dayton it will be dirt cheap to fix it. We've been languishing in the heat all day. Our house is certainly air tight! Once the cool of the evening came we opened what windows have screens and let in a little breeze. But all four of us are sweaty and moving slow.

Like our past experiences with high heat this one reminds me to take a breath and think on what is important. What is a little 85 degree weather inside once in a while? And how nice to have something break in our house for once. So what if we will all be sleeping in Lucy's room, the coolest room, tonight. Lucy will get to stay in her own bed while Alan, Iris, and I camp out on the futon mattress on the floor. And in the morning, hopefully, the electrician will get the whole thing up and running again. If not right away, we will manage in the meantime.

The joys of home-owning, Dayton living, and PhD programming are just beginning.

To the pure... to the impure

A good little article on breastfeeding in public.

“To the pure all things are pure, but to the impure nothing is pure” (Ti 1:15)

I was ready to abandon the blog, leave it to the spammers and forget it ever existed. But what the heck-- even if I am only writing to the silent space that is the internet, I might as well keep writing.

We are knee deep in work, packing, babies. Who said one is like none, two is like ten in reference to kids? Maybe they were right. Obviously Iris's needs are basic at this point, but she is another person with demands and stuff which makes things in our house just that much more complicated. Still, so far things have been easier than I thought they would be with two little ones. We all went to the mall today, ate dinner, and survived. One point for the parents.

I am very, very sad to be leaving Wilmore but also very excited to be moving to Dayton. Who'd a thunk, right? Alan just rolled his eyes when I told him this, but there is an H & M-- an actual H & M-- in Dayton! I think I had to spend time in the middle of Kentucky for a place like Dayton to feel like a cosmopolitan mecca (the people I know from NJ and WA are gagging as they read this, I know).

So I soothe myself with thoughts of shopping, mass transportation, and Vietnamese food when the reality of saying goodbye to friends creeps up on me. It feels a bit better knowing no one we befriended was meant to stay here, and neither were we. It is late, I know I'm rambling, but thought I should take a stab at blogging again before I lost my nerve.

Waiting for Baby #2

As with my first pregnancy I am now entering a stage of focusing in. My poor sister, mother, and friends-- I am on a birth kick for sure and have trouble thinking about other things! So I thought it warranted a blog post.

I don't know what preparing for a hospital birth is like. Of course, I have to have it in the back of my head that I could end up being transported at any point before, during, or after labor. But for a home birth you spend a lot of time fussing over things at home. Not only is the nursery/crib/baby's dresser a reason to rearrange things a million times-- you also have a box of birthing supplies to contend with, snacks for you and any others present to sustain everyone through the process, a postpartum care artillery. All my paraphernalia has been moved from one large box to lots of little boxes, from our room to the guest room/office upstairs, it's all been labeled and de-labeled twice, and I'm still not quite happy with how it is set up on the bookshelf upstairs.

There is childcare to set up. The bathrooms need to stay clean. I run through a mental list of comfort things I might want handy during labor like a favorite movie and comfy clothing. I'm sure many of these things are a concern with a planned hospital birth, too, but there is something about living in the space you plan to give birth in that makes you feel like you are crafting something. Maybe other home birth moms have had a different sense in the weeks leading up (please share your thoughts below!).

***
Yesterday we enjoyed some time as a family of 3.5. We drove up to Chrisman Mill winery to get a celebration bottle of my favorite local wine then headed to the UK arboretum. How nice to see the flowers and smell all the plants coming to life! Lucy collected sticks and dandelions. We ate a little lunch, went to the bookstore. I don't know how much harder outings like that become when another kid is added to the count.

I've had a lag in work so the three of us have been hanging out this week, catching up on reading and phone calls, still dealing with the pile of paper work from the house buying business. Today Lucy and I looked through her newborn pictures. "I was small... and TINY!" she told me. Lucy also said the baby looks like her; we'll see soon.

***
So I spend each day in a space somewhere between my regular mental state (which isn't so grounded to begin with!) and that place your head goes when you give birth. I listen to lots of music I liked as a little kid-- Red Hot Chili Peppers, Foo Fighters, Mariah Carey, Michael Jackson and all that-- and soak up the dreamy mood that comes with preparing for the birth of a new life.

The Game, Abortion, Compassion

In the summer of 2005 I often listened to the song "Hate It or Love It" by The Game. Surely it was the refrain that caught my attention, but it didn't take long for the lyrics to sink in. The Game sings about parts of his life, his days dealing drugs and eventual success. Then at the end he thinks about what might still be going on in his old neighborhood and sings:

"I wanna know what's going on like I hear Marvin
No school books
They use their wood to build coffins
Whenever I'm in a booth
And I get exhausted
I think what if Marie Baker got that abortion
I love you Ma"

I have no idea what its like to be a black guy growing up in Compton-- I am a white girl who grew up in the burbs on the other coast. So I'm left only to wonder.

Now The Game, born Jayceon Taylor, implies that he draws strength from the fact that his mother did not abort him when she was likely to or thought about doing so. That must shape who you are as a person, knowing that you were wanted enough to be born even though statistics and circumstances were slanted against you.

But the very fact that you are a person likely to be aborted, what does that say about your worth in the eyes of others?

It is abortion under the guise of compassion that hangs me up more than anything. The logic seems to go like this:

You are a in a bad situation (no spouse, or no job or in the middle of school, or perhaps you already have a number of kids)

Another child will exacerbate the situation for you and your dependents, or you will be able to provide a less than ideal life for the unborn child

So you should have an abortion to show compassion on yourself, your family, your unborn child

Okay, how do we know (or how can we even begin to guess) that life for that child might be bad? We look at children already born in similar situations.

So while Mr. Taylor may be able to thank his mom (and rightfully so) that she chose to bear him into the world he is still the once poor, black, urban child people often look to as an example of why other poor city children should not be brought into the world. The only thing more invalidating than not being allowed to be born is someone pointing to you and saying "we use you to justify why other children like you should not be brought into the world." Same goes for people with disabilities.

As clear as day, when you tell the poor mother or the young mother or the mother carrying a special needs child "you should probably have an abortion" you are telling all those kids born into similar circumstances "you probably should not have been born." That, my friends, is not compassion in any way, shape, or form.

Ohio is God's Country

Before I jump into the heart of the matter, let me say we had a lovely visit with our friends Dru and Adam and their son, Israel. It was hard to see them go last summer but equally as nice to have them here for a few days to catch up. Once again Alan and I were reminded of the richness of our friendships in Kentucky.

It was while they were here that Alan got the call from the Univeristy of Dayton-- he got in! Their offer was competitive to say the least and he couldn't pass it up. So despite other options, we will be going to Ohio for the next five years. What a blessing for Alan to really start enjoying the fruits of his labor. And at Adam's suggestion we looked up houses in Dayton; they are quite affordable and it looks as though we will be home owners before too long.

Now I met Ohioans for the first time in college. Unfortunately they were mostly a cranky lot and I quickly built up a prejudice against the place. This was deepened by the constant cries of "Ohio is God's country!" from fellow classmates. Ugh.

But I've recanted since then and have begun to see the good in midwestern living. I've always loved F. Scott Fitzgerald's short stories and many of them follow young people as they make their way from middle America to the North East to go to school and hobnob with the elite. But I've made a reverse migration and the one place I thought I couln't stand to live might turn out to be a very cozy home for the next few years. Ohio is surely not God's country, but I'll bet we can make it ours for a time.

"Housework, if you do it right, will kill you."
-Erma Bombeck, humorist and Daytonian

Trip to Farmville

I love a weekend trip. This weekend, along with friends Meredith, Amberly, and Charley, I had a chance to see friends from Wilmore who recently moved. Now I usually do all the planning and driving for a road trip so it was such a pleasure to hand over the directions, decisions, and driving (yes, I wimped out on my shift) to others. While packing I'd brought an arsenal of things to do in the car but we ended up talking the whole way to Farmville, VA and back. Such a good time!

Our friends Kat and Rob moved some months back and are all settled into their new home. Their house is lovely, the town is just perfect, and they seem to have had joy in moving on to the next thing. I don't know about the other women, but for me this part of the trip was insturctional. I've only seen people move from Wilmore back home-- this was a very tangible lesson in "You can leave Wilmore to go on to another place and find your niche, be happy."

They spoiled us with a tasty dinner and breakfast, we played cards, we passed around their sweet baby who has grown quite a bit since we all saw her last, and we toured the town. It was good to talk with Kat and Rob again though it felt as though, in some way, we should be hauling them back to Kentucky with us when we left.

The trip to Farmville had all the elements of a good weekend roadtrip: pleasant company for the ride, good weather, welcoming friends at the other end who were generous hosts, good food, and a little lesson learned.

"I see all of the past growing within me." -Apollinaris

He got in!

Last year Alan applied to the PhD program at Ave Maria in Florida. I thought he was a shoe in. No one reads as much as my husband, I proudly (arrogantly) thought, and no one makes better use of what he learns. We visited the school, we waited for the letter, I saved a Red Lobster gift certificate from Christmas for the expected celebration dinner.

But the school was having all sorts of problems and there were doubts he'd accept even if he was admitted. Still, when the rejection letter came I was angry. What a slap in the face, I thought. And then there were the months of seemingly endless speculation-- was it his essay, his statement, his interview? What had gone wrong? We put the idea of year round sunshine out of our heads and Alan planned for the next round of applications.

It was harrowing! Instead of one school, one place to think about it was five or six. There was a trip to South Bend, to Dayton, to DC. There was the day of his GREs when Alan left his ID at home and Lucy and I made the trip to Lexington during rush hour in our friend's SUV, skidding on ice and listening to "Paper Planes," to get it to him. Then the letters being sent off and the waiting, waiting, waiting while I admittedly thought "better him than me."

Then yesterday Alan came in with the mail. He handed me a letter and said "Read this." I saw Catholic University of America, saw the word accepted, saw the fat packet of papers in Alan's other hand. I was ecstatic! All his hard work and praying has amounted in admission into a good PhD program. There are other letters to wait for but no matter what happens next at least I know he has a place to study and that one way or another we will be moving this summer.

These moments are the icing on the cake of marriage, when you get to see the person you love grow and flourish. I am proud of Alan and excited about all that still lays ahead of us.

When Gentle Women Used to Knit

Jane Brocket tucked this poem into her book "The Gentle Art of Domesticity." It is by Robert Service.

Winding Wool

She'd bring to me a skein of wool
And beg me to hold out my hands;
so on my pipe I cease to pull
And watch her twine the shining strands
Into a ball so snug and neat,
Perchance a pair of socks to knit
To comfort my unworthy feet,
Or pullover my girth to fit.

As to the winding I would sway,
A poem in my head would sing,
And I would watch in dreamy way
The bright yarn swiftly slendering.
The best I liked were coloured strands
I let my pensive pipe grow cool . . .
Two active and two passive hands,
So busy wining shining wool.

Alas! Two of those hands are cold,
And in these days of wrath and wrong,
I am so wearyful and old,
I wonder if I've lived too long.
So in my loneliness I sit
And dream of sweet domestic rule . . .
When gentle women used to knit,
And men were happy winding wool.

Some Flannery

Here is a bit of wit from "Greenleaf," a story I recommend:

"She thought the word, Jesus, should be kept inside the church building like other words inside the bedroom. She was a good Christian woman with a large respect for religion, though she did not, of course, believe any of it was true."

She is still my favorite famous (devout) Catholic at this point; my regrets to Alfred Hitchcock and Richard Simmons, though they tie for a close second.

Knitting, Glorious Knitting

Ah, the benefits of nesting. Both Alan and I are going through that phase of a pregnancy when you want everything clean and organized. If only this would last! I've been knitting up a storm again as well. Lucy was welcomed into the world with a quilt, knitted toys, hats, socks-- it is only fair that baby #2 receives the same. Her little basket of homemade things is quickly filling up.

Several kind friends have been nice enough to humor me about knitting as well: I've taught half a dozen people to knit in the last couple of weeks and though my teaching skills have grown rusty they still managed to learn well enough. A few are already well on their way to whipping out scarves!

There is something meditative about the needle arts once you get into them: the continuous loops of knitting, the cheerful rhythm of crochet, the neat little x's of cross stitch all provide a tattoo that can call you back to the world of thought and contemplation. Rosary beads made much more sense to me after thinking about them this way-- while there is nothing in the beads themselves the moving of hands and repetition of prayers has the ability to transport your mind and spirit to another place. Now if only I prayed the Rosary as much as I knitted! Perhaps I will become more disciplined and learn to pray while I knit. Any holy needlecrafters out there with advice on the topic?

Note: If you have a chance, check out this thoughtful post from my grandpa.

Lost Lost the Lost and Lost

Humor me, please. Here is a selection of songs pertaining to Lost from my personal Grooveshark collection. You will find songs from the show and other tunes about being marooned, eating coconuts, repeating time over and over again. There is a little Steely Dan shout out to Mr. Shepherd at the end, too.

If you haven't already you should go to ABC and watch the clips from tomorrow's show (they are definitely spoilers!). The teaser for the season is worth watching too-- just click the link and two clips then the teaser should play.

Hurley to Sayid: "Hey, man. You gonna
put the lime in the coconut, drink 'em both up?"

Miscellany

A thoughtful post from a monsignor in Washington about a young man in Louisville who was born with some physical abnormalities; it is a moving story about a father and son as well.

Don't ever, ever forget what an atrocity it is for babies to be genetically screened and aborted for having physical or cognitive limitations. It is discrimination of the earliest kind and there is no justification for the hatred some people show their children just because they might be born different from others.

Superbowl watchers: look out for an ad about Tim Tebow and his mom, Pam, during the game. It seems Focus on the Family has put together an ad that features Pam Tebow talking about her decision to not abort her son when doctor's recommended it. Apparently the slogan "Celebrate Family, Celebrate Life" and the spot itself are "extrodinarily offensive" to pro-abortion groups who tried to threaten CBS for deciding to air it. Funny they never seem to protest the network's crime shows that depict women being abused and violated in graphic detail...

Beginning of the End

My Lost obsession will reach new heights this season, of that I am sure. I have already let my midwife, a fellow fan, know that we cannot schedule prenatal visits late on Tuesdays; the baby and I have a tacit understanding that she is not to be born during the series finale, though I do think I could go through early labor while it is on. I know, with all that's going on in the world how can I care about Lost? Maybe I am a petty, small person. It is probably a sign of my lack of virtue as well.

Our friend Jake mentioned at dinner one night "Oh yeah, you're a Lost fan. You should really watch this Onion video." Very funny Jake.

I will be tuning in tonight, with abandon, for a rerun of last season's finale and then again on Feb. 2 for this season's premiere. It is the beginning of the end, folks, and is not to be missed.

Jack: You like playing games, Locke?
Locke: Absolutely!

Happy MLKJ Day to my favorite easy target

"Our efforts build on Dr. King's mission by transforming the federal holiday honoring Dr. King into a national day of community service grounded in his teachings of social justice and nonviolence."

So says the director of a Planned Parenthood clinic in Michigan. In fact, all PP clinics in Michigan are holding a fund raiser/feminine hygiene product drive in honor of the day.

Social justice and nonviolence. Hmm. Planned Parenthood might do a lot one way or the other but I don't know if sharing in the non-violent social justice of Dr. King is one of them. Sure, some will say that they've made life better for women, and women being an oft oppressed group means they are making advances for social justice. But King was primarily interested in social justice as it pertained to black Americans, not women who need low cost birth control. And you don't need to look far to find black people who are (rightfully) disgusted with the prejudicial agenda Planned Parenthood often works under, which serves to undermine black communities.

Non-violence-- I won't even go there. It is just ironic and worth bringing to light, in my opinion.

Homeschooling a Two Year Old?

I've been interested in homeschooling our kids before Alan and I were even married. After all, I consider my education at home some of the better parts of my learning years and with all the moving we might be doing until Alan finishes school and settles into a good job, well it just seemed logical.

So I started to peruse websites for information on the best time to start, how to start, what to do. I suddenly realized that like being married, homeschooling doesn't just flow naturally from a person. Yes, some claim that it can (like those brave and confounding unschoolers) but I don't think I have it in me to teach through life circumstances alone.

On the other hand, think of all a child learns without ever being formerly taught: how to walk, speak, sing, pray, conform to certain social patterns. These things take teaching but there is generally no carved out twenty minutes each day when you instruct your child on speaking, lessons on good eating habits-- these things usually come organically, even for the child who might have special needs and require more focused attention sometimes.

So anyway, I am at the point of gathering materials. Our generous relatives showered Lucy with educational toys per our request and I now have a shelf full of lacing cards, alphabet magnets, tanagrams, puzzles, play money. I've acquired math manipulatives, miniature animals, and a felt board on my own. So right now on odd days Lucy plays with these things in succession, sitting at the table. I'm hoping we are at least setting up the habits needed to get a lesson done in the future. Because while many things are learned through everyday life others will require more focused times of learning. Maybe it is less about starting Lucy down the right path and more about training myself to teach!

Fellow Losties...

... I thought this was great. And to all you doubters: if Lost is so terrible, why is the president's press secretary commenting on it?

"Jack: I don't believe in destiny.
Locke: Yes you do, you just don't know it yet"
-from "Exodus, Part III"

Roll With It

What a year! We planned to move to Florida and stayed in Kentucky instead. I ran a half marathon. We became Catholic. My mom found out she was sick but recovered quickly enough. Alan earned his masters degree. We moved into another house. We spent the summer in Tacoma with Alan's relatives. Baby #2 began. I kept on working my same old job and learned to enjoy it. Lucy learned to talk, run, get herself dressed, ride a tricycle. We drove to DC, Michigan, New Jersey. I earned $50 for published pieces. Lucy and I made batches and batches of cookies.

I think the year has made me tired in the best sort of way. Yes, the agitations abounded: saying goodbyes, being low on funds, changing plans a dozen times. Most recently I managed to tick off my landlady and damage a rental car-- again, trifles that will soon fade into the tangle of a year. But after a long walk in the woods or a day devoted to running a race, you fall asleep at night knowing you are very tired and satisfied because overall it was good. So I move into the next year being a bit weary from the last but at the same time hoping for another that is something like it.