Due to Memorial Day last week, the results for the Lost poll are a bit late.  A full fifty percent of you stated that you never even watched Lost to begin with, much less having a reaction to the series ending.  Or perhaps the reaction was simply one of relief that nobody will be talking about it any more.  Seventeen percent of you liked the ending, and only nine percent joined me in being bitter about it.   Six percent were sad their weekly ogling sessions were coming to an end, and another six claimed to be a bit befuddled as to what it all meant.

This weekend the men in my family went camping, and us girls stayed behind and enjoyed the air conditioning, as it was unusually hot for this early in the summer.  For the record, Glinda does not do camping.  I have never camped, and have absolutely no intention to ever do so, despite the pleas of my husband.  And by being home, we also managed to avoid heat exhaustion, not having access to a shower, the rumor of a bear in the vicinity, what were thought to be possibly leeches in a stream they were mucking around in, and mosquito bites.  Please explain to me how this is considered “fun.” Because anyone who thinks that kind of stuff is fun has a very different definition than mine.