Okay, I guess my episode analyses are going to mirror one another somewhat, the way this season of Lost is at times mirroring itself, and the first season, and the series to date.
There will be no individual writeup of last Tuesday's episode, "What They Died For", in advance of tonight's two-(plus-)part series finale, "The End", just as there was no writeup of the first individual hour of the season, "What Kate Does", following the two-part season premiere. Actually, my entry on "LA X" wasn't put up until later in the season, and is among the last of a handful of missing posts that have yet to be republished, but the way things have been going here lately even that fact will be reflected in a delayed post on "The End". My laptop has started acting hinky again, and the Internet connection has been at a crawl when it's been working at all, and my energy has been low lately, on top of all of which I've just come down with a cold.
Season 6 ends tonight and thus so does Lost as a whole, as you might have heard. Its finale airs at 9 p.m. EST on ABC, following a two-hour series retrospective at 7, and runs until 11:30; then, after the local news, the one-hour Jimmy Kimmel Live: Aloha to 'Lost' comes on at 12:05 a.m with cast members and creative staff.
I have the world's best mother. Yeah, I'm aware that lots of folks say they did or do, but if you ask around people in the know will confirm this claim to be true.
Our family grows and gathers awesome moms. While I don't see my stepmother enough, she's a keeper. My cousins have beautiful, brilliant children, a testament as much to their parenting as to genetic jackpot; so does, mind-blowingly, my little sister — two girls, who each look amazingly like she did at their ages in different ways, and one boy, who's the spitting image of his Uncle Brian way back when. And of course there's my mother's mother, great-grandmom to eight kids (one heading to college this year) and still a lady I enjoy talking to. No lie.
I was 7 years old when my mom and dad split up. Mom did a heck of a job raising my sister and me, with considerable help from her own parents. We stayed with them often, including every summer after my parents' separation up to my high-school years, and I was lucky enough to live with them on my own after that as I worked a summer job on the parking lot behind their old store. Now and then back in the early days I'd wonder if we weren't one of those families in which my mom was secretly, actually my older sister, because she was so youthful and cool while my grandmother would wait up for all three of us, Mom and my sister and me, to come home from a night on the boardwalk. I have a good bit of my grandfather in me, helping make the case, but also far too much of my own dad for it to really be a plausible scenario. And besides the fact that my grandmother was 54 when I was born, somebody would've spilled the beans by now.
Photo © 2010 and courtesy McDonald's.
I went to McDonald's for an iced coffee the other day and had the following exchange at the register.
Me: "Could I get a large hazelnut iced coffee, please?"
Cashier: "Iced coffee?"
Cashier: "What size?"
Me: "Uh... Large."
Cashier: "Would you like a flavor with that?"
Me: "... Hazelnut?"