PACKING

I'm leaving tomorrow for a week in California.



And somehow I have to cram enough stuff for eight days into a small enough suitcase that will fool the airline into classifying it as "carry-on."


But at the same time carrying my huge briefcase/satchel/possible-diaper-bag-for-a-57-year-old-grandmother and trying to convince the same airline that this is actually my "purse."

As well as cram my 15 different types of prescription medications - three different types of hair preparation - makeup - three books - cellphone and charger - church listings for providing service to those in need as assigned...

Think I will actually be allowed on a flight?

STANDING AT THE GRAVE

I am a more-than-casual fan of the BBC Sherlock series, starring Benedict Cumberbatch and Martin Freeman.

Perhaps a bit more than an enthusiast - maybe an aficionado - devotee.

No, let's get honest and use terms like addict - fanatic - extremist - MILITANT!

Okay, let me catch my breath for a minute.

I do tend to really get into things - it's not enough to watch the DVDs of the series, I am the person who memorizes the director's commentaries - digs out press releases - reads books about the making of the series sets, for goodness sake.

I know the director of photography's name - the guest stars and what shows they've been in - who wrote what script.

Again, this is only for the few television shows or movies that have completely overwhelmed me - Sherlock, Star Wars, the Harry Potter movies, Firefly....


But back to Sherlock.

Benedict Cumberbatch is simply beautiful, but Martin Freeman in the character of Dr. Watson is the one I am really in love with. He's good, faithful, dependable... all good things, but without being a dog. He argues and fusses with Sherlock, and doesn't agree with him all that often - but when Sherlock needs his back covered, John is there. The ultimate loyal friend.

In the last episode of season two, Sherlock dies. And since he is Sherlock, he also somehow survives. But John doesn't know this, and visits his graveside, and delivers a lovely little eulogy  ending with "and one more miracle, Sherlock... please, don't be dead."

Then he takes a minute and weeps silently, but then wipes his face, stands up and gives a tiny military nod.

And that's what this entire wandering blog entry is about.

We all need to take a moment.

Sometimes that moment can take years.

But when we've gotten through it, we need to straighten up - wipe our cheeks dry - and face up to life again.

This nod of John Watson says it much more eloquently than I can.

And tonight especially I needed to be reminded of it.

WAIT A MINUTE, I DON'T EVEN LIKE IT

According to the statistics on my Pinterest board, 1,319 people have pinned (or copied) this little YW inspirational board I put up almost a year ago.





And that bothers me just a little bit. Because I don't really think it's that great.


While I DO think some of my other pins are FANTASTIC, and MUCH more worth copying.

And anything with Benedict Cumberbatch's neck in it.

Anything.

PREACHING AGAINST PINTEREST

My oldest daughter has introduced me to an awful lot of good things in my life.




The Office. The Dave Matthews Band. Cinnamon Twists at Taco Bell. 36" inseams. Three inch heels even when you are over 5'9". Pandora radio. Downton Abbey.






And Sherlock, the BBC series.

Which is a convenient segue to the title subject.



Harmony also had told me about Pinterest, describing it as a series of pinboards to share and save things you liked.

She forgot to mention that it is also a pathway to outer darkness and loss of your soul.

It begins innocently enough, with putting funny names on your boards, and finding neat quotes and thoughts that you'd like to share.

But then slowly and surely it begins to suck you in.

You begin checking your boards at odd times during the day to see if anyone has pinned anything off of your stuff.

Then you start exploring other people's boards, and pinning stuff off of their boards, and seeing where they had gotten it, and then what else is there.












And by then 85% of your waking hours is spent searching and putting gorgeous photos of Benedict Cumberbatch all over the Internet.





I guess there are worse things to spend your time, but I am beginning to see that Pinterest is to women what pornography is to men.