The car is mother, the car is father...

It's Thursday, which makes it the perfect day to post this -

OMG! WOW! What a fantastic way to end a series!!!!! (Almost.)

That's right, I'm talking about Supernatural.

Eric Kripke is not from Lawrence. So I must applaud him for the nice use of our most well-known local legend. Yes, that cemetary. All though I really shouldn't be surprised, considering how well the show has made use of other urban legends, as well as blending the Winchesters into the mix.

I must also give him props for writing what is very nearly one of the best series-ending episodes I have seen. I have to say very nearly, because while he created a perfect ending to the show, the CW wanted another season. So you know what that means.

Not that I object to the idea of a sixth season of cute boys in hot car fighting the monsters that are real under the bed. I just would have liked it to be earlier in their story arc. So that it could have been more of just that. No angels/demons/God/predestination/recovery-from-same needed. Just two brothers fighting monsters and occasionally looking for their Dad. The same way that the X-Files worked best when all you needed to know was "Two FBI agents investigate weird shit. He's a believer, she's a skeptic - GO!" Oh, and as Electric Boogaloo would say, I could have done with a bit less man-struating all over the place.

I will definitely miss Cas' bumbling, I-don't-get-you-humans act though. And Crowley the "helpful" demon.

Now, for the rest what I loved about Season Five (and a bit of what I didn't): ( The spoilery discussion is back this way. Click on through to the other side. )

In the long run though, I cannot dislike a show that loves its car this much. Yes, I have a MASSIVE CRUSH on the Impala, too. And I'm not alone. She even has fan sites here on LJ!


Be seeing you.

Health Goals - Progress!

About three months ago, I had an appointment with my rheumatologist. Nothing fancy, just my regular check-up for lupus-medication maintenance.

Part of the process is, of course, getting weighed. I don't keep a scale at home, because I think the opportunity to check your weight daily can sometimes lead to bad obsessions with it. Particularly for any teenaged girls you might (ahem) happen to have living with you. So I prefer just to note how much I weigh each time I go to the doctor.

I've known for a while years that I really-need-to-lose-weight. For my health, just as much as for the I-dislike-the-way-I-look-when-photographed reason. I tried swimming after work on and off, but it doesn't fit into my schedule that easily right now, and I sort of wandered away from it. I mean, I really don't think I could (or should) go back to what I weighed in high school or college, when my mother thought I was anorexic* and I got bruises from lying on my hip-bones. But weighing half-again as much as I did then truly isn't acceptable either. That weigh-in three months ago was the last straw.

So, I rearranged my eating habits a bit:

Started eating breakfast instead of just drinking coffee.

Laid off the soda (almost) entirely. Easiest calorie-reduction plan ever.

Tried very hard not to have late-night snacks. (Still trying - this one is a tough sell for my tummy - but I've improved.)

And, I started walking. Trying for 30-45 minutes every day. I usually walk during my lunch breaks on campus. Bonus incentives - radcliffe usually joins me. And it's an excuse to expand my parasol collection - walking at noon in Kansas is a hot proposition.

Results so far - When I went back to the doctor on Tuesday, I weighed 20 lbs less than I did the last time. Hooray!

*For the record, I was definitely NOT anorexic - ask anyone who used to go to dinner with me back then. I just never sat down.