Philly Moms

A life without LOST

I'm pretty sure that even those that are unfamiliar with the show know that the ABC series "LOST" ended last week.  The finale wasn't just one final show, but rather a two and a half hour episode, sandwiched between a one hour Lost retrospective and a special Lost-themed Jimmy Kimmel Live.  Oh, and somewhere in there was a tiny bit of Action News, spliced throughout with live footage of crying fans gathered at the Camden aquarium.

Last weekend, my family and I were supposed to be enjoying our first week at our summer shore house, getting settled in and enjoying the peace before the crush of Memorial Day weekend.  Instead I pulled a fast one on my husband and insisted that I was not going to leave my home during "Lost weekend" for fear that I would somehow encounter a technical difficulty and be miles away from my DVR.

What you don't know about door to door magazine sales

Thinking back on my childhood, there was one phrase that my mom said constantly: "don't open the door to anyone."  Every time she left the house she'd say it automatically, and sometimes call us just to say it again.  It always seemed excessive, but the lesson stuck with me.  Until last week, when there was a cheeky "bum-bum-bum-bum-bum BUM-BUM!" on my door, which is my neighbor's signature knock.  I opened the door, expecting to hear him give me some type of report about a nest in my window or that my dog's collar fell off in the backyard.  Instead, there was a strange guy at my door peddling magazines.

I instantly had that sinking "why did I answer the door?!" feeling--I had just put the little one to bed and my dog was barking and ready to tear down the door to inspect the stranger.  I also didn't feel like having to either shell out money for something I didn't want or need, or reject some well-meaning kid who was just trying to make an honest buck.  Instead I found something much more bizarre and ultimately scary.

Mashing up teenage werewolves and Little Women

There was a time in my life when I felt pretty hip to the world of teenage literature.  I was in college, studying to be a high school English teacher, and I voraciously consumed many books that my future students would be required to read.  A great deal of this required reading were "the classics"-- the stuff that you expect to read in English class.  Very few titles seemed like anything a teenager would actually choose to read and my idealistic mind wondered how to make (what was in their eyes, undoubtedly) crusty material come alive.  I even wrote my Master's thesis on the use of age-appropriate texts to provide teens with healthy, escapist reading.

Since I am now a stay-at-home mom to a toddler, these days my literature choices are limited to "Are You My Mother?" and books that revolve around Sesame Street characters.  So I must say that until very recently I was clueless to the trend of the literary mash-up.  Just over a year ago, Seth Grahame-Smith released his book "Pride and Prejudice and Zombies" with co-author Jane Austen.  Yes, Grahame-Smith intertwined Austen's classic with zombie killing sprees, and the result was a best-seller.  The trend is catching on as next month sees the release of titles "Little Vampire Women" by Lynn Messina and "Little Women and Werewolves" by Porter Grand.

Naturally, there are strong opinions on both sides of the literary mash-up.  There's the camp that cringes at the thought of an author blatantly tampering with a classic, and those that rejoice that today's youth have an easy-access portal to the classics.  Which side do you think I'm on?

It's ok to let go of some traditions. Really.

I like to think I’m a very nostalgic person, but I would never describe myself as someone who holds to a lot of traditions. Growing up it was just our little family of 5--no extended family to meet for major holidays--and we moved a lot, so there were no annual community happenings to clog up our calendar, either. The moving finally stopped and for the last 15 years I’ve managed to stay in one place. So I’ve put down some roots, got married and had a kid. Bring on the traditions!

The lone tradition my family did keep was a strange one. Christmas Eve dinner was us going out for pizza. In lieu of a twelve fish dinner or breaking out fancy china, we’d hit up whatever pizza place was open (and there aren’t many). Despite being rather unromantic, our only family tradition continued year after year. It remained relatively unbroken until Rayna was born. Suddenly in-laws protested not seeing us (or really, her) and the husband fought to give one holiday to his family. It was hard to hold on tight to something that centered around Pizza Hut, so I had to let go.

National Pride: It's Not All About Medals

Like most Americans, I grew up watching both the summer and winter Olympics, anxious to see how the Americans would rank up against the competitors of other nations. I’ve always considered myself a smidge overly-patriotic and when our national anthem plays for the gold-medal winner…well, I might just tear up. Last night as I watched the final battles of the women’s figure skating competition, I admit I was less than enthused that team USA didn’t have a super-star medal contender. Everyone around the world knew that the eventual gold medal winner, Kim Yu-na was the force to be reckoned with, while Canada’s Joannie Rochette had everyone praying she’d just win a medal. Rochette’s mother passed away at the Olympics and Joannie became a hero for still competing at all.

What happened over the course of the night was fairly predictable. Yu-na performed one of the best performances in the history of her sport while her rival, Japan’s Mao Asada, landed an amazing, but second place performance. Joannie Rochette managed to skate her entire routine with only minor errors, earning her the tentative bronze. The only one left to compete was “our” last competitor: American Mirai Nagasu. I felt my usual swell of patriotism as her performance was amazing. What came next, though, was what amazed me the most.