How Do You Mourn?

Our cat died yesterday. I let her outside around 6am, and she wasn't back by 8. Usually Spaz can't stand to be out of the house for more than ten minutes. When the kids woke up, we looked outside, and there she was—dead on the highway.

Rachael bawled. Simon shrugged. I planned a funeral.

How do you deal with loss?

Do you let it all out like Rachael did, and then by the afternoon or the next month or the next year go happily on your way? Do you, like Simon, just not allow yourself to get too connected in the first place so that you won't be disappointed? Or do you try to take control of the situation, like I did?

Which way is most healthy for your situation? What do you hope to do next time tragedy strikes?

How Have You Changed?

I used to be dead set against TV. I grew up without one and didn't bring one into my home until recently. Now we have almost one per person.

My latest obsession is the TV series "The Office." Larry and I had watched only a few episodes, usually on flight, but decided we should rent the first season to see if it's as funny as it seemed. It is. We watched six shows in one evening—and then shut it down reluctantly. The next night we did it again. Now I look forward to Thursdays at 8:30 almost as much as, well, anything else I can think of.

The thing is, TV is not as awful as I thought it would be. Sure, it is time-consuming and addicting, just as I always thought—but it's fun! It's a wonderful form of entertainment that connects me with everyone else in my house and beyond. We don't need to watch the garbage or stare at the tube every minute of the day. Just like anything in life, we can choose the good (in moderation) and reject the bad.

What values have you changed over the years, and why? Do you regret those changes? (I.e., will I regret mine?)

iHeather

The transformation has been made complete. I do EVERYTHING online. Rather than going to the window to see if schools will be delayed, I stumble to my computer and click a button. Rather than driving to the mall to buy an accessory for my computer, I shop online. Rather than attending a book club, I read reviews online and post my own comments.

I've scoped out neighborhoods in other continents that I'd soon be visiting and I've looked for churches around the corner from my house. I've chatted with my kids online even when they're in the same room as me and I've begun relationships with people who don't even speak the same language as I do. I've cooked online; I've dated online; I've worshiped online.

I'm just waiting for the day my computer does my laundry for me.

I love my computer, and, honestly, I'd be hard-pressed to give it up for Lent, even if I didn't need it for work. Maybe those sci-fi stories about computers taking over the world aren't so far-fetched.

How has the Internet opened up your world for you? How has it limited it?

Forever Young

Darren and I used to play together as children. He lived next door, and we would spend all our time together: swimming, playing kick-the-can, building hay forts, hiking through the woods. We didn't let a little issue of gender get in the way of good friendship.

It's strange now to think that Darren's all grown up with children of his own. I mean, I know I'm a year away from having two of my boys graduate from high school, but Darren is supposed to stay my childhood buddy.

I recently got some news from Darren that has comforted my aging awareness: his lifelong passion for hockey has not diminished a bit. He just returned from a magical week at a Wayne Gretzky hockey camp, and his blog about it makes him sound every bit as young as he ever was.

Does that mean I am too?