The Fruit of the Tree of Knowledge

This has been bouncing around in my head for a long time now.

Tonight, it just sort-of congealed into a half-baked idea.

Short version:

Christians believe they have to stomp out depravity. But they're just making it up.

Long version:

This starts in Genesis, which I believe (based upon science, and what my Mom taught me as a little kid) must be an allegory.

I generally don't have much use for Scripture, but this is my basic point:

From the NIV:

Genesis 3:

3 but God did say, ‘You must not eat fruit from the tree that is in the middle of the garden, and you must not touch it, or you will die.’”

4 “You will not certainly die,” the serpent said to the woman. 5 “For God knows that when you eat from it your eyes will be opened, and you will be like God, knowing good and evil.”

6 When the woman saw that the fruit of the tree was good for food and pleasing to the eye, and also desirable for gaining wisdom, she took some and ate it. She also gave some to her husband, who was with her, and he ate it. 7 Then the eyes of both of them were opened, and they realized they were naked; so they sewed fig leaves together and made coverings for themselves.

 I spent most of my life believing that this was an allegory about people figuring out what the difference is between good and evil.

This interpretation is obviously false.

Most of the rest of the Old Testament is about God commanding the Jews to do objectively evil things.

My parents were conservative Christians, back in the 70s. They are/were prime candidates for all the MAGA propaganda.

I'm almost grateful that my Dad was dead at that point. Odds are, if he wasn't, he'd have been doing his part to arm the Jan 6 insurrection.

But my Mom's right in the sweet spot of the MAGA propaganda.

I think she hits a sweet spot to remember the 50s with total nostalgia. She has an extra incentive to forget how awful it was for the disadvantaged, because she managed to marry out of that despite her college degree.

Most of the stories I've heard are about the sock hops her sisters attended. Or their years as cheerleaders. Or superhero Judy who carried her (and her full-body cast) out of their burning house.

I've also heard a few stories about Grandpa hopping trains to travel the country as a hobo. Or picking fights around town after someone insulted one of his daughters. I don't have any faith in those memories (though I'm pretty sure he spent time hopping box cars).

Anyway. None of the stories I heard growing up involved our family's slaves or servants. Most of them that I remember were about the Trail of Tears and similar European atrocities.

But my mom has a chance to offer a very unique perspective on the current MAGA movement.

She grew up in the era that MAGA wants to bring back.

She told me once that one of her aunts once told her that she would spend her short life begging on the streets, because no man would ever want her for a wife.

Just for reference: two men did, at some point. I never did find out why things failed with the first one.

Life with the second one has been going for 30+ years now. It's like any marriage. They've had their ups and downs. And they've chosen to stay together.

That makes me hopeful that Laura and I can continue to do the same when things get rocky for us.

And all of that was a long way of snaking around to the point:

People did not get through Genesis with some sort of objective God view about what is good vs. evil after Adam and Eve ate the forbidden fruit. (Whatever it might have been).

Whatever "the serpent" might have been, what it seemed to have claimed was not true.

I think that, from our perspective, we can safely say that slavery is and always was objectively evil.

Historically, that was not true. I am positive that there are still some people who will claim that their family's slaves were so happy serving that they never wanted to be free.

We could disagree.

Historically, we could resolve that disagreement with a duel.

Perhaps with fisticuffs. Or rapiers.

That wouldn't have had anything to do with the actual point, of course.

But, hey. We were both suffering under the illusion that we could resolve that point by doing something that didn't have anything at all to do with the actual problem.

It's kind of like all those men who keep deciding what women are allowed to do when they have a pregnancy that the woman chooses to terminate.

What does that "choose" mean?

Well, that really isn't any of your business, is it? I've heard enough examples to know that it isn't any of mine.

I hate to resort to Scripture, again. But I know that it's Christians who are throwing away the fundamental principles of Christianity who are enabling this festering MAGA rot that is destroying America.

I know. That's the same sort of language the Christofascists use to describe the way liberals are destroying America.

So I'm going to quote the Bible verses that my Baby Boomer conservative Christian parents drilled into me:

Matthew 7:1 - Do not judge, or you too will be judged

Luke 6:31: Do to others as you would have them do to you.

I grew up with the King James version, but I always found the NIV easier to read.

The last quote I wanted to point out was "love your neighbor as yourself."

I've been avoiding the Bible long enough that I expected this one to be fairly obscure. I've been paying too much attention to the christians who are using the Bible as an excuse to spread racism as hatred.

I don't remember the last time I looked up a quote in the Bible and had this many hits.

Leviticus 19:18

Matthew 19:19

Matthew 22:39

Mark 12:31

Mark 12:33

Luke 10:27

Romans 13:9

Galatians 5:14

James 2:8

I thought I was going to have to look up quotes about widows and poor people and prisoners to make my point. (I'm pretty sure those are all in there as well, but I could be remembering it wrong).

I broke down and logged into twitter the other night. It was a big hate-fest of MAGA fans oppressing LGBTQ minorities. With a bunch of people who pretended to be Christian (but were really just Fascists) supporting the haters.

I gave up on Christianity years ago because I just can't believe in the mythology.

But I want to believe in the kindness and compassion and caring parts of it.

I feel like Christianity is this sleek little fish that's trying to make its way through a swarm of parasites that are determined to steal everything that was ever good about Christ's original ideas. And that Evangelical Christianity is that swarm of parasites.

Preparing for a Long Weekend, half-century version

Reporting live from downtown Oklahoma City:

I love travel. I love PLANNING to travel. I'll research places we're going, even just for an afternoon, to try to find the best opportunities for us to experience the area in ways that change as our family situation changes. When Mal was smaller, indoor playgrounds were a good deal, and you could forget any museum that wasn't specifically targeted at children. Now that he's getting older, we can do a wider variety of things (including expecting him to make it through an hour-long meal at a restaurant that isn't McDonald's with a Playplace... it's still kind of tough for him, but he CAN do it), and it's always fun to stumble onto cool places accidentally, as well.

So THAT I plan vacations very carefully hasn't changed. HOW I do it has changed a lot.

Especially when I had an eating disorder, a lot of my vacation centered around where and what I would eat, because vacations were "cheat days," all. I was able to throw off the disordered eating when we were traveling, and it was one reason I was so happy to get out and about. Now, I try to find a few highlights that seem like they'd be good, but know we'll never hit all of those places, and that we'll probably end up seeing a food truck or having some left-overs or other things we couldn't have anticipated before we actually did them. And while I look at menus to make sure there are a few choices for each of us (although sometimes I'll tell Mal just to tough it out with a soda and we'll find chicken tenders and fries for him later), I don't know exactly THE DISH I'm going to order at each restaurant months in advance.

Another thing I've changed is how I plan my travel wardrobe. When I was younger, I chose the cutest clothes I could think of for each day, plus a change of PJs every other night. Now, my entire mindset has changed. I end up in very few pictures, and I'm not particularly fussed about how put-together I look in the ones I'm in. Also, with a smaller vehicle and hating the post-vacation laundry trudge, I'm trying to travel lighter. So instead of the cutest outfit, I look at the anticipated temperature, and pick something that will work for that day AND for the next morning.

I typically get straight out of bed and walk in the morning, wearing what I slept in, which is usually what I wore the day before. I do this so when I get whatever I'm wearing sweaty and gross, it's fine to put in the dirty clothes hamper because I've already worn it a full day and night. Then I get dressed for the day after cleaning up.

Preparing to come to OKC, I knew that I only wanted to pack one bag for the three of us for three nights. So I didn't want to bring extra shoes. I needed my trainers for all of the walking we'd be doing (we valet parked the car and planned not to touch it until we leave tomorrow), so I chose outfits that were comfortable and would look okay with Skechers. They aren't my favorite-looking clothes. But they're fine. 20-something me would hate this whole thing.

I used to spend a lot of time on vacation fixing my hair, as well. Not anymore. My motto about that, as it is for most things these days, is: "It's fine." I'm here to relax. I'm not spending an hour with a blow dryer and iron every day. I'm here to have a good time. So I don't have to pack styling implements. In fact, since this particular trip is only 3 nights, I can get away with not washing my hair at all until we get back home. Far fewer toiletries this way.

Finally, I used to really stress over having the house clean with nothing waiting in the laundry or dishwasher before we'd leave for a trip. I considered cleaning the kitchen and bathrooms before we left (my usual day to do this is Friday or Saturday) but I decided that since D was going to be home, I'd probably want to clean up when we returned, anyway. D does keep things pretty well, but I have my own way of doing things. So I did do laundry the night before we left, mostly because I didn't want anything in my way when we got home and I knew I'd need to wash a load or two. But I didn't do anything with the kitchen or restrooms, and I just started a dishwasher load as we were heading out the door. D needed clean dishes for cat feeding.

The result of this was that we got up and leisurely loaded the car in preparation of leaving the house. It was so much better than being harried and hurried and trying to do as much as possible.

Maybe you CAN teach an old dog new tricks? Or maybe I'm just entering the enhanced potato phase of life. Either way, it's good. I'm a fan.

The Change (and no, I don't mean the SCC song)

In case you weren't deep in evangelical christianity in the early 2000s, the title is a reference to this. (I can't listen to much from these days without cringing, but this one aged okay.)

Now back to our regular programming.

We've established that I'm old. Like half a century old.

I have this very vivid memory from when I was a quarter century old:

I was dating a guy who was two decades my senior. He had this very intensive facial regimen he'd do every morning and night, and it had never occurred to me to do anything like that. Like, I washed my face, but when he cleansed, he left the wash on for a long time so it could "work." Then he'd moisturize. And do stuff for his crow's feet. It was the first and basically only time in my life that I started wondering, "Should I be doing something to keep from looking old?"

The answer I gave myself was "no," and I never looked back.

However, the pandemic did all of us who mostly wore make-up passively a big favor in that it normalized more fresh faces with minimal makeup. I've basically decided to buy into the conventional "pack light" wisdom that all I need is some eyeliner (I know, they say mascara but I can't wear that because it irritates my eyes... yes, even the hypo-allergenic stuff) and tinted lip balm.

My neighbor tells me that I'm lucky because I have "some natural color," whereas she's so pallid that when she was a small child, her mother wouldn't let her wear certain colors because she looked dead (also, she's in her mid-70s, so it was a different time).

I found a couple of similar pictures of myself. One is from today and one is from 12 years ago. I was mostly comparing a full face of makeup (the older picture) to me today. I have never worn heavy make-up, but in the picture from my 30s, I'm wearing powder, lipstick, eyeliner, eye shadow, and blush. Today, I'm only wearing eyeliner and lip balm. Oh, also, I don't color my hair anymore.

And, yes, I can see that I have some wrinkles around my eyes now that I didn't used to have. Also, my neck is probably wrinklier. However, I don't think the "even less make-up" takes much away.

The one concern I had is that I have a pretty high forehead (or what the kids called "five-head" a few years ago) that tends toward shininess. I'm using CeraVe Foaming Cleanser Bar in the morning and evening, and then moisturizing with an alleged "mattifying" lotion at night. I haven't noticed any matte effect, and my forehead is still glistens. I did get some oil-absorbing sheets... and I don't think it's oily. I don't know. I just glow, I suppose.

Anyway, something interesting has happened since I started washing my face twice a day instead of once and also moisturizing: My skin has cleared up. I mean, I've been fortunate to have pretty good skin, anyway, but had some bumps and just assumed that was what my skin was doing as I head into menopause. Turns out, maybe my face is tired after 35 years of having power all over almost every single day. 

Since I started drinking more water about a year ago (after GERD was massively negatively impacting my life so I gave up carbonated drinks for the most part), and have now started trying to "pack light" in my make-up life, I thought a couple of other things might be fun.

My feet have always been cracked and dry, and my mom has been on me most of my life to use lotion. It's always felt overwhelming to me, taking time to do that. I don't know why. I'm just not super fussy about my personal maintenance? Anyway, I've started doing that once or twice a day. The bottom of my feet will be okay for several hours, then it's a desert again. Will it ever stay better longer? Who knows. Will I tire of this and go back to having funky feet? Probably. Still, I always love a good experiment.

Oh, the other thing I decided to do was to stop biting my nails. I have always done it, and I don't care that I do it. But as long as I'm changing up my routine, I figured I'd throw that in, as well.

Finally, to address "the change" thing... For those keeping score, my current cycle has been 83 days. I've been fairly regular since I had D (and before that, I was on The Pill for 12 years, so it was like a clock), but in the past year, it's been slightly less predictable. Still 26-41 days. Once, it was 46 days, and then I was treated to 9 days of... um... fun? as a reward. No, thanks. This is definitely the longest by far.

I'm hoping maybe I pre-paid for this with all of the issues I had in my young adulthood and I'll be able to skate through to menopause without any major hot flashes or life upheavals. I have definitely noticed a change in my body shape, as explained in this paper, the summary of which is: "[G]oing through the menopause does not cause a woman to gain weight. However, the hormonal changes at the menopause are associated with a change in the the way that fat is distributed, leading to more belly (abdominal) fat."

Fortunately, I knew that was coming, so I was ready. And it's not even a big deal.

I've been walking at least a couple of miles a day for 19 months now, and have recently started breaking that up with doing core training every few days instead. I already see how my knees sometimes feel like they're weaker, so I'm doing lunges to give them more of a challenge. And when I started doing lunges, I realize that since I haven't done them in a long time, my balance was off a bit. So I'm also doing a few balance exercises to try to maintain as much mobility and agility as possible. 

Injuring my back ten years ago showed me what a literal pain in the butt just plain existence can be when you're not at 100%, so I hope to put any falls or breaks off for as long as possible!

Okay, now that you know way too much about me, I'm ready to go to bed.

Have a good rest of your weekend, everybody!

A Surprising Dinner with Mal

Every Friday (mostly), Mal meets some friends at Urban Air for a couple of hours of trampoline jumping and playground fun. 

James and I had planned to meet for dinner afterwards last night, our first family dinner out since before the pandemic. I had told Mal we were going to do this, at a restaurant James and I had selected, and that I knew they probably wouldn't have any food he'd like, but he could just hang out and drink soda.

When I mentioned this to my friend, she offered to take Mal home with her so our kids could play together and James and I could have a date night. I asked Mal, and he preferred to go with us. First surprise.

After he'd played a couple of hours, we went to the restaurant, where James was waiting. Second surprise: Mal ordered food. Chicken tenders and fruit.

The plate came, and a very hungry Mal was extremely happy about the fruit.

He ate some strawberries and grapes, then picked up a little piece of cantaloupe. "What is this?" he asked. I said, "It's a melon, like watermelon, but it's called 'cantaloupe.'" (Yes, we've had it at home before and, no, he's never tried it.)

Mal stuck his tongue out and touched it to the cantaloupe. I guess it passed the tongue test, because Mal popped it into his mouth and rolled his eyes in ecstasy. He then ate more of the cantaloupe. MAJOR third surprise. Major. He actually ADDED a food to his palate instead of removing a food from it. I honestly could have cried (if you have one of these eaters, you get it; I didn't before... it's a lot).

THEN, Mal pulled off the tip of one of the chicken tenders. I said, "That's just coating. You should eat some chicken." But he ate the fried batter, then reacted. "It's hot!" and drank some water.

Normally, that would have been the death sentence for the chicken making further encroachment onto Malcolm's taste buds. But this time, he pulled out his knife, cut off a slice of chicken, and ate it. Water. Again. And again.

Eventually, he'd eaten everything but a few grapes! And he didn't even have ketchup until the last tender.

Sometimes in parenting, we have to really celebrate what might seem like small milestones. This was a HUGE deal to us. I'm proud of Mal for trying new food and for keeping with something that normally would have put him right off! Maybe there's hope for him to expand what he'll eat over time, after all!

If I Could Do It Over Again (Infant Literature Edition)

I'm going to be 50 in a scant few days. Over the past two years, the length of my cycle has increased by several days. While I have yet to experience hot flashes, it seems obvious that I'm in some stage of pre-menopause, and that blessed cessation cannot come too early for this aspirational old lady.

A combination of living in Texas (post-Roe, and under the 6 week "heartbeat" -- narrator: It isn't. -- law), watching Mama Doctor Jones's monthly "I Didn't Know I Was Pregnant" reactions, and somewhat unpredictable periods got me thinking about the super statistically unrealistic possibility of getting pregnant at my age. 

The good news is that aside from abstinence, vasectomy is the most reliable form of birth control. Only 1 in 1000 partners will become pregnant in the year after a vasectomy is performed, and vasectomies get more effective each year, to the point that reversals after 10 years have only a 30% chance of being successful.

Still, I have quite a dramatic imagination, and was pondering the prospect of having a baby at 50 (famous men seem to have no problem producing offspring at advanced ages; it's a little more daunting for those of us who actually carry babies). 

What is funny to me is that my first thought was this: There are SO many great books now for babies. So how would I start my hypothetical library for this impossible turn of events?

1. Bodies are Cool -- Kids from cisgender, straight, able-bodied white families are often not exposed to people who people who aren't pretty much cookie-cutters of themselves and their parents. I adore this celebration of all sorts of bodies, hair, abilities, and shades. 
2. Antiracist Baby -- Obviously, the stakes are too high just to be passively "not a racist." The younger the better, in terms of helping kids see injustice and instilling the desire to change a culture for the better.
3. All the World -- I found this book by a local author when we were at the Ladybird Wildflower Center one time. By then, Mal was too busy to really enjoy sitting in my lap and hearing a story read aloud (honestly, he was too busy for that pretty much from birth), but it was so soothing and beautiful to me. It presents the world as a nurturing, safe place where you can make mistakes and do better, and encourages that there are so many people around who love you and want to help you. We ended up getting rid of this book (gave it to a friend for their birthday, but it was still hard), so I'd definitely get a board book for the future baby that doesn't exist.
4. The Remarkable Farkle McBride -- This is beyond baby level, but is a clever, fun, sing-song-y (would appeal to baby ears, even if they don't get the story) introduction to orchestra instruments and sections.
5. All 3 of these books by bell hooks, who passed away last winter.
6. We Are Grateful: Otsaliheliga -- James is 1/16th Cherokee, and Mal is 1/32nd. While both are, to all intents and purposes, white, this is still an important part of their ancestry to acknowledge, as it would be with the imaginary child. I don't know how James feels about this, but I'm conflicted about where the line is in connecting with the Cherokee heritage and also acknowledging that our (actual) child's experience will never be remotely close to the experience that someone who is immediately recognizable as Native American will be. I never want to exploit a culture. 
7. And Tango Makes Three -- Our family looks very "traditional," so it's always a good idea to make sure kids know that not all families look the same. Plus, penguins. Yay!
8. Red, A Crayon's Story -- What a great encouragement to be who you are, even in the face of (friendly) opposition.
9. That’s Not My… — These books have been Mal’s favorites. They’re tactile and use descriptive language. For me, they’re super repetitive, but you can’t argue that at least kids love them.

Obviously, we'd have a whole library (again), but those would be a start.

Another short Dallas jaunt

Mal and I came up to Dallas the last week in June because he wanted to visit KidZania. A few weeks ago, he wanted to return to stay at Great Wolf Lodge. I looked online and there were rooms available for SUPER cheap (relatively) this week, so we made reservations for him and James, since I've been to GWL a few times, and James has never been.

However, James ended up driving up to Washington (he made it safely and is on his way home, and I hope he blogs about it because I've heard very little as he's basically driving or sleeping), so I brought Mal. 

First, we drove to Temple Monday to check on my parents and hang out with them for a while. They've been on a long-planned (was supposed to happen summer 2020... remember that??) train trip through the Canadian Rockies.

That was fun, and then Tuesday, we drove up to Dallas.

Our first, uh, festivity was my taking Mal to The Cracker Barrel. He wasn't too thrilled about the prospect of going, then we happened to drive right past a McDonald's on the way. He wanted me to get drive-through to take with us, but I told him we'd definitely get McD's in Dallas. He was extremely unhappy. To help placate him a bit, I let him pick out a couple of bags of candy in the gift shop while we waited for our table. We actually ended up spending more there than for our meal!

Once we were seated, Mal told me he wasn't going to eat. He did play a little with the peg game, but when I tried to take his picture, he posed like this.

He just kept asking why we couldn't get McDonald's, and I explained that 90% of the time, we eat what he wants to eat, so this time I really wanted to get something I'd enjoy. He said nothing looked good, so I ordered what I wanted (chicken and dumplings) with sides he'd like (macaroni and cheese, and steak fries).

At one point, he just got up and walked out. I thought he was going to spend lunch in the gift shop, but apparently he'd gone to the restroom. When he got back, he said, "Mom, I've been thinking about this, and I think you're the one being stubborn." He then told me this about 4 times throughout the meal. Because, you know, of how stubborn I am.

He ended up having an okay time, he ate 5 or 6 of my fries, which he insisted were terrible after each bite, and we got to the hotel around 2:00 PM.

Our room wasn't ready, so we did a bunch of exploring. In fact, by the time we turned in for the evening, we'd walked more than 3 miles... INSIDE the hotel!

Mal had planned to play MagiQuest (which D LOVED), but decided it was too loud for him. He did pick out a souvenir with the money my parents had sent along with him. He has been playing Toca World a lot, and there are a ton of sloths in it, so that's what he latched on to at the shop.

Around 5:30, he was ready to swim, so we went to the waterpark. He wanted to try the outside pool, since this is the first time we've been here that it's been open. He found a friend and they played together for an hour or so.

We ordered a cheese pizza from one of the in-house restaurants and brought it back to the room. We walked around exploring some more before I just crashed out at 9:30.

This morning, we got up and took our time (pizza for breakfast!) before heading out to an indoor playground. Mal had asked to go to the same mall we visited last time, but there's so much else to do and see I talked him into going to a church (bonus that the play area is free!).

We went to Watermark Community Church first. I believe that's where D and I went to see Adventures in Odyssey Live 10-11 years ago. They have a tree fort area that's a bunch of stairs and swinging bridges, and a toddler playground.

After that, we went to ANOTHER church, Prestonwood Baptist in Plano. Their Preston Kidz area has a giant playground.

Mal found a friend here, and they played for about an hour and a half. Then it was on to the promised McDonald's! I had four playgrounds on my list, and Mal was eager to hit them all... but once we got food, he was ready to come back to the hotel. We ate lunch, and then went to the lobby to explore some more. He found some friends there and played tag. Then we came back to the room to chill for a while.

Just now, Mal went out into the hotel on his own. At just a bit older than Mal, D and a friend played MagiQuest for 6-8 hours, totally unsupervised. Back then, we talked to a kid who was playing who said his mom dropped him off here before she went to work in the morning, because they didn't have childcare and she didn't want to leave him home alone. It's a pretty safe place for kids to mill around.

I'm proud to say that Mal found his way back to the room, but he wants me to go inspect a "new virus" he found.

Tomorrow morning, we're going to the Dallas World Aquarium before heading back home.

Wish me luck with the virus!

The last year, and the new normal

I realized, looking through posts the other day, that I've basically been depressed for a long time. My posts about ennui and whether or not I should have had kids... all of it has been pretty maudlin and hopeless, because that's how I felt.

There is a long story here that I'm going to skip over, but after a year of having near-breakdowns every month from a very sweet puppy who just did not fit in with our household (cats, kids, sensory stuff, love of quiet and peace, etc.), having people I interact with in public remark, "That's too much dog for me!" and "The only people I know who are as dedicated to their dogs as you are don't have human children," etc. I snapped when the dog tried to catch one of our cats outside (inside they're different; outside is a wild card). After seeing how devastated James was, I agreed to keep trying... but then after D returned from a couple of weeks away, the dog decided he needed to be awake all night to keep D company, and I had a stressful night after a stressful day, and the only way I could keep from going crazy was the idea that the dog had an awesome household that wanted him.

The ferocity with which my husband and his family rallied... around the dog has stunned me. I feel like I'm living on a different planet. I feel like I've been talked about behind my back, and that they had this plan for when I failed, which they knew I would, but that no one ever talked seriously to ME about it, so I did what I needed to do to stay out of a mental hospital and continue to take care of all of the domestic duties around our home. 

James is driving to his brother's house with the dog, where the dog will stay indefinitely. James feels good enough about this. I am skeptical, but James was literally ready to file for divorce. We hurt a very kind, loving family, who got caught up in the blast zone and that's almost as hard for me to stomach as the idea that somehow, my husband values a pet more than he values me and the wholistic health of our family. Of course, this is my take on it and I know that he has a different one.

We are committed to staying married because we love each other and want to keep our family intact. But internally, I feel as rocked as I did when my ex-husband texted a lady he didn't know, who was dating a friend of mine, and told her (while she was on a cruise vacation with her family) that I was having an affair with her boyfriend (which I was not). The fallout on that was terrible, but I was already half way out the door because of other problems we had. James and I are starting out on much stronger footing. But I'm still just not sure what the heck is going on, and why it was taken for granted that I shoulder so much constant stress but when I moved to right it, suddenly it's like I'm mentally frail or evil and deceptive or something.

Sometimes I wonder how people maneuver in the world, knowing the wake of destruction they leave behind them. Maybe other people don't do that, but I know so many people who have and who do. I guess we can only move forward and try not to mess up and hurt people in the future.

This morning, I was wishing that James and I could have "Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind"ed Luke, so he'd be happy where he was, and we'd never be the wiser. But, no. We remember, and somehow we still have to try to live "normal" lives. It feels impossible.