I’m happy to report that the midget mafia is mad about Mythbusters. Their first taste of the show came last week with the Christmas myth episode (burning Christmas trees and building a Goldberg device) and they were instantly hooked. When I picked them up today, one of the first questions out of Zeke’s mouth was if we’d get to watch Mythbusters - that and if he could get a piece of bubble gum.
I love Mythbusters. In the midst of mayhem, things exploding for the most part, Mythbusters presents scientific explanations for their stunts along with some close approximation of the scientific method. This I can’t object to: blowed-up stuff in the service of rationalism. If my kids learn that science corrects itself, constantly trumping faith with each new twist and convolution, I’m elated to expose them thus. Put some lipstick on that pig and then throw its corpse into a brand new Corvette to see if the stench really makes $200 a steal, I say play it, someone will learn something.
Day Three Lexepro. Gritting my teeth and jittery, energetic, feeling myself reemerge as a shuffle becomes a stride. Tomorrow is a spinning top, twirling towards the edge and then the inevitable fall but now is nice; it holds promise. Nothing like last Tuesday where there were just two ways - out or up.
Soon, I can breathe. I know.