Lady Edith, It Doesn't Pass the Stupid Test

We are well into Downton Abbey Season 4, and I've written nary a word about it.

Sunday night was the first episode I've really enjoyed. My reviews tend to be so nit-pickingly negative, everyone must scratch their heads that I watch the show at all. This week I actually have good things to say. So here it is:

- Anna and Bates -- United once again! Gosh, that Brendan Coyle can act. Carson has the eyebrows, but Bates has the rest of the eyes -- the crinkling laugh lines, the steely glare. Of course, the whole story line is disturbing and doesn't bode well for the Bates family. It's not over. It's not over. As Mrs. Hughes might say, "Oh my."

- Robert at his best -- Being honorable, seeing the potential in someone and going out on a limb for him. Better still was Mary recognizing that her father has wisdom and decency and isn't quite the colossal dolt he's been made out to be for two seasons or so.

- Daisy -- A person at least. I love the warmth between Mrs. Pattmore and Daisy. A nice change from the haranguing cook and the browbeaten scullery maid.

- Mrs. Crawley -- Doing good but in simple, humble ways, her holier-than-thou persona mostly gone (but not so far gone that Violet can't let fly a few gentle zingers). I am totally rooting for a match between Isobel and Dr. Clarkson.

Of course there's bad news:

- Cora -- I think every other season poor Cora gets stuck with just a handful of lines -- Where's Robert? I'll watch the children. Let's plan a birthday party. She's a bit player this season, at least so far.

- Edith - Seen entering a doctor's office. Could she be pregnant? Could she be double-checking Gregson's wife's diagnosis? I watched the episode a second time on PBS.org (yes, you can do this free if you've got time to waste) and paused at the doctor's office sign. Definitely says Dr. and then there's a string of letters I don't recognize.

Hmmmm.

I keep thinking about the words of the late Mathew Crawley: Every estranged wife is awful, and every philandering man is just about to divorce her. Or something like that. Edith, Edith, Edith, this just doesn't pass the stupid test (or the decency test).

It's fascinating to think of so many individuals sharing a house, yet wholly ignorant of  the sufferings of the other. Think : Mary and Anna. When Mary faced her scandal in Season 1, she turned first to Anna, the maid, not Cora, her mother, for help and her father was left wholly in the dark for years. Interesting. And fairly true to life even today, I would guess. Anna is positively cracking, but doesn't confide in anyone but Mrs. Hughes. And Lady Mary doesn't press. Hmmmm.

Many of you have probably seen Gosford Park, a film by Downton creator Julian Fellowes that deals with many of the same themes, but on a slightly darker level. Police investigate a local aristocrat who is found murdered during a weekend house party. After investigators question everyone upstairs, someone makes an off-hand comment about interviewing the staff. The inspector makes a flippant comment about the servants having nothing to do with the family. It's all bosh, of course. In fact, the entire story behind the story revolves around the staff and their all-too-intimate relations with the upstairs folk.

What a unique world it was.

Maggie Smith steals the show in Gosford Park as well. When dining conversation turns to an American movie maker and the plot of his current film, Maggie assures the producer that spilling the beans at Gosford won't make any difference because, "We won't be watching that film anyway." Or something equally as acidic.

Classic.

When Snow Comes to Georgia . . .

Hallie over at Moxie Wife is collecting Five Favorites. Here are a few from this snowy day we're thoroughly enjoying:

Let It Snow

Under normal conditions, it would be difficult to imagine a Great Day that began with dental work and a trip to the Department of Motor Vehicles, but it has been a great day around here. When you live in Augusta, Georgia, and the forecast reads “100% chance of snow,”  let me tell you, excitement runs high. 100% chance! Accumulation of 2-4 inches! The kids, naturally, are over the moon, but, really, most adults are just as stoked.

So after the DMV (not so bad, really) and dental work (more involved than I anticipated. Is there a trend here?), I and the rest of Augusta went to the grocery store. A Facebook meme captured it best: Milk, bread, and eggs? What is it about snow storms that make people crave French toast?

As for me, I was after a little comfort food. School had early dismissal today and no school at all on Wednesday. I pictured leisurely days, playing in the snow, lounging in our jammies, eating chili.

And so it has been – a slow, lazy day playing with friends, indulging in comfort food, listening to Tim play the piano, taking a nap, baking a few favorites in the kitchen  . . .  and waiting for the snow.

Now, we haven’t actually spotted a flake as yet. There is, however, something meteorologists call Wintery Mix falling as I type. It’s this Wintery Mix that always trips us up – damaging and no fun whatsoever. We’ve been glued to the weather forecast, and we’re now hearing that this sleet will turn to flakes at 7:00.

Just twenty-four minutes to go. 

For the sake of thousands of Augusta area kids (and many, many adults who are still kids at heart), this snow had best start falling.

Light

I wrote this a week or two ago, but never got around to hitting publish. I am especially praying for peace right now as our extended family sits with our cousin-in-law, Wendy, who is gravely ill with complications from flu. She's facing multiple organ failure. She coded last night, but was successfully revived.

Please, please pray for a full and miraculous healing for Wendy and the peace that passes understanding for her husband, Aaron, and the rest of the family.


So I've been reading  Searching for and Maintaining Peace by  Father Jacques Philippe.

And I attended a four day retreat by the author himself.

Peace in two pieces.

And I pulled out a late Christmas gift I had bought for a friend -- a colorful glass ornament that spells Peace.

And John cracked it over breakfast.

And later in the day, Ainsley picked up the broken ornament and sliced her hand open.

And on top of the busted ornament, I was battling a sore throat and congestion, but, sadly, not enough sore throat and congestion to postpone root canal (or so the cheerful woman at the endodontist assured me).

And my dental work was supposed to end with root canal, but no, no, where's the fun in that? I now have to have a crown replaced. And I took a bite of chicken the other night and out came the temporary crown.

Then there was adolescent angst (bad). My reaction to adolescent angst (worse). John's reaction to my reaction (convicting).

And all this while we're reading and praying and focusing on . . . peace. Peace!

I really, really don't relish any more practical exercises related to Father Philippe's sage advice on maintaining our peace.

Let's keep it all theoretical, shall we?

On day three of the retreat, my plan for the night was to leave for church right after getting Ainsley to bed. She asked if she could come with me. We packed up coloring books and a small blanket and off we went. A few minutes into the talk, Ainsley conked out. And then I started nodding off.

Father Philippe shared about Therese of the Little Flower, a young saint who lived  out her vocation in a cloistered convent dedicated to contemplative prayer. According to Father, Saint Therese passed a good portion of her prayer times dozing off.

A woman after my own heart.

Father shared a humorous passage Saint Therese wrote about snoozing during morning prayer. She was just sure God understood. Parents love their children just as much when they're asleep, don't they? They might even love them a little more! 

At the start of Advent, our family attended a wonderful mission at our parish. It was great encouragement to be strong in your God-given call, to call upon the grace of the sacraments, to be faithful to your daily duty. It was good, edifying stuff, meat and potatoes kind of preaching.

And so very, very different from Father Philippe.

Father used an interpreter during his talks. I was initially put off just a bit by this. I figured we'd lose so much in translation, but there he was standing on the altar where we heard his tone, took in his gestures, saw his facial expressions. The interpretation was rather seamless.

If I had to find a single word to describe what Father Philippe attempted to share, that word would be Light.

Light, the adjective; not Light, the noun.

Come to me all who are weary, Jesus tells us, and you will find rest, for my yoke is easy and my burden is light.

Cari at Clan Donaldson is hosting Theme Thursday, and this week's theme is catching people unawares. Here is John catching up on his sleep:

The Way to a Teenage Boy's Heart . . .

Hallie over at Moxie Wife is collecting Five Favorites. As we continue to negotiate the sometimes turbulent water that is life with adolescent boys, we find ourselves turning to creature comforts to smooth the rough edges. Here are five that I recommend.

1. Flavored Creamer

Tim's been a big coffee drinker since a Boy Scout trip to Fort Gordon introduced him to the beauty that is caffeine. He's a prodigy, my boy, developed the habit young. But unlike his mother who takes hers piping hot with just a dash of cream, Tim likes sugary, gooey concoctions. I recoil at the mere sight of flavored creamers; Tim loves it.


2. Taquitos

And  not just any Taquitos. Oh, no, no. We prefer the steak and cheese variety. And no off brands, thank you very much. Well, last week I scored when Publix offered these babies buy one get one free.

3. Bacon

All varieties, served on anything.

4. Ice Cream

Moose Tracks are a favorite, but any port in a storm seems to be the teenage motto.


5. Heated Mattress Pad

Poor Tim. Our weather has been unseasonably cold, and his twin-sized mattress pad doesn't fit his new full-sized bed. If you need a birthday or Christmas gift for a teenager, nothing says I Love You like these cozy, electronic wonders.

Many years ago my good friend went through trials and tribulations with her teenage son. And as she wrung her hands and prayed and cried, an older, wiser mother gave her a simple piece of advice: Bake cookies.

Sometimes we really do want to throttle these kids of ours (and I'd hazard a guess that the feeling is mutual). Life sometimes seems to degenerate into an endless litany of instructions barked from my mouth to Tim's head-phoned ear.

Brush your teeth! Practice the piano! Take out the trash!

A dose of TLC helps.

For us, it helps a lot.

The Best Part of Waking Up . . .

Ainsley, at the crack of dawn: I had a bad dream, but then I thinked about you, and it went away.

John, at the crack of dawn: Can I ride my bike?