St. Claire

Given that Toby has been exhibiting symptoms of depression and anxiety since childhood, and based on his demonstrated withdrawal symptoms, I think Toby is someone who needs the SSRI/mood stabilizer/whatever as maintenance meds. Some folks can deal with depression and anxiety through counseling and CBT, some go on meds for the short term after a situational depression, but many of us just need those medications to get our brain chemistry to the point where we can deal with life's situations without shutting down. If I'm taking my beta blocker, I can breathe my way through a major presentation and just relieved that it's over; without meds, I am more likely to have a panic attack. I didn't realize how much I have absorbed in recent years about hair care until a couple of African-American colleagues were discussing things like their regular budgeting for a weekly hair-wash and style, or their refusal to get in the pool for fear of ruining the look, and I made reference to the satin cap or scarf for sleeping. One of my fellow "so-white-we-are-translucent" colleagues exclaimed 'how do you KNOW these things?" and I had to think about how I'd figured it out- the answer is Beth Pearson and many of the Shondaland ladies. If Toby has been consistently taking medication since before sharing a place with Kate, I could see her totally not paying attention to the bottles. I doubt my husband would have a clue if my pills were changed or gone, since he doesn't have to oversee my medication compliance. The bottles have been in the same place on the kitchen counter for years, but he wouldn't be able to articulate what is there and how many bottles there are.

For an episode that specifically called out Meredith turning away from romance (e.g., telling Zola that she wouldn't be getting married again), she was quite popular; both Helm and DeLuca were wanting to make their moves, and Amelia was pushing an unrequited love scenario. Having had days where everything goes cosmically wrong (in a "truth is stranger than fiction" sort of way), I was totally feeling Jo's hysterical laughter in the shed. No excuse for wedding planner woman to not have ephinephrine or diphenydramine close by. I have a shellfish allergy, and not only do I carry diphenydramine in my evening bag when I go to weddings, I inform others where it is so that they can grab it for me if I start to get delirious. I knew the Mother of the Bride was going to have a medical emergency when I saw she was played by Tisha Campbell-Martin. You don't bring her into an episode just to walk someone down the aisle; you knew she was going to have a story. Too much rush to tie up April's storyline. I would rather have left her stuff dangling a bit (maybe just mention the wanting to quit her job to apply her medical skills to underserved communities full time) and feed the additional details later. I know the writers have short attention spans, but putting something in the tickler file to indicate that the next season needs to include mention of April in future episodes to establish her new engagement to Matt, or her continued charity work.

I swear to [diety; fill in your favorite] that I will love the writers forever if they handle an actor leaving the show by just moving the doctor to a different shift. Keep April as a trauma surgeon, but working the times when Owen isn't. Have Jackson open to do some adventure with Maggie because "...April's got Harriet this weekend..." There are dozens of doctors at Grey-Sloan who we never see, so April could easily be one of them. They even gave a nod to HIPAA in this ep, when Herman said she found out about Amelia's tumor because she overheard a call, not because of a HIPAA violation. And I think Arizona used HIPAA as her struggling point about telling Jackson that April was pregnant.

I do, too! I could eat dark chocolate covered almonds until I burst, so having the Almond Joy be the bar with the dark chocolate would be wonderful.

One of my favorite throw-away bits was when Juliet seemed surprised by the presence of Mr. Vick, since she'd never seen him in all the years of working with Chief. Mr. Vick is like Vera from Cheers or Niles Crane's first wife or the rest of Wilson's face on Home Improvement.

It did make me laugh the first few times I saw it. Unfortunately, the station that carried my hockey games for the first round of the playoffs played it so often that I now want to throw sock balls at the TV as soon as it comes on.

My eighth-grade son informed me that he and his history teacher think the school should have a Big Block of Cheese Day ("Do you know what I mean by that, Mom? 'Cause I can explain it to you if you need me to."). It warmed my Wingnut heart.

I'm so white I'm almost translucent (Irish, Scandinavian, Welsh descent) and I understood what it meant. But, as I've mentioned before, I'm working really hard right now to recognize and address my own ingrained assumptions and privilege, so I shouldn't be surprised that people like me don't have a clue. Disappointed, perhaps, but not surprised.

I'm older than the Big Three by about 8-9 years, and am so pale that I pretty much glow in the dark. You know those quizzes that show up online and in the magazines as we approach summer with the "...if you can answer 'yes' to at least four of these questions, you're at risk for skin cancer!"? I answer yes to all of them- at least one blistering sunburn in your life (HA. Try multiple blistering sunburns every summer for the first decade of my life; the misshapen freckles on under my eye are actually scars from getting a second sunburn before the peeling from the first one healed), pale skin and light hair and light eyes, anyone in the family diagnosed with skin cancer... I grew up in the mid Atlantic and used what passed for sunscreen (Coppertone Shade was SPF 6) when I was elementary school aged and was finally able to find SPF 15-20 by high school, but my peers were still trying to tan instead of protecting themselves. So, sunscreen was available and used some, but not to the level we see it today. I've also been noticing the drop ins. My family does an occasional drop in, but it's usually preceded by a phone call ("Hey, we just finished a charity walk near your house; mind if we stop by and see the kids?") and my family can read a room. My BIL, on the other hand, loves to just appear on my doorstep, often at awkward times (6:10 on a worknight, which almost guarantees we've just sat down to eat, but then he'll say he doesn't want to join us and he plops down on the couch and turns on the TV and stays way past his welcome) and everyone in my husband's family just passes it off to his personality. The worst was when he came by with his crazy girlfriend on an evening when I was watching Mad Men DVDs on my own (hubby had a concert to work that evening) and proceeded to take the dog out for a walk and leave crazy girlfriend at the house with me. She got offended by the sexism in the show and complained to BIL about it after they left, and I got a lecture about not being appropriately welcoming to her. This is the same BIL that we agreed to have live with us for "...six months, max," who finally moved out thirteen months later because I needed to turn his room into a nursery and store the gifts I'd gotten at my baby shower at work.

There was a car commercial (probably Subaru; they are notorious for the tearjerker dog spots) a few years back with a guy giving his dog its bucket list- giving him a nice leather shoe to chew up, going to the beach, etc. Part of the feeling was just the commercial itself, but the fact that a friend from work really did that when her dog was fighting cancer made it a bigger gut punch. In non-dog-related viewing, any commercial where you see kids or spouses being surprised by returning military personnel make my living room get really dusty.

I'm binge-watching this show On Demand, and this was the first episode that really punched me in the gut. I am a child of the 70s and 80s, so the triplets are the age of some of my cousins and the kids I babysat; my own children are teenagers now. I grew up watching some sports with my parents, some not (hockey was a family thing, but I just kinda stayed out of my dad's way most of the time when the Skins game was on). Today? Don't even think of getting between me and the screen if I say I have plans to watch the Caps game, and don't try to speak to me while the puck is in play. I can multitask (which may include texting/IMing my sister or cousins about what just happened in the game), but don't interrupt for an anecdote that can wait for the TV time out. If one of my parents passed away and the urn was in my house, it would probably we wearing a red hat- could be Caps, could be Nats- during the playoffs or other important games. What's really starting to get to me is the touches of my own humanity. My third child was not planned; he came after I thought I was done and I had gotten my career on track. I cried in frustration when I saw that blue line on the test, even though I knew it was going to be there. I love my son with all my heart, but finding out that my life was being bumped back five years and knowing that I had a millisecond to adjust was hard. All of that came flooding back with Beth's revelation about thinking she might be pregnant. Randall would have months to adjust to the idea if it came to fruition; Beth would have to change her eating habits and her exercise and her ability to pee Right.Damned.Now. When I had my son and I was wrestling with feeling old and tired and was trying not to be resentful of having a surprise pregnancy, my mom offhandedly told me that my brother was also unplanned- I'd suspected as much, since there's a five year gap between us, but it was the first time she'd said so outright. Being in my 40s means that my parents and my uncles will speak to me with a candor that never existed before about the lives we led during my childhood, and seeing Rebecca and Jack is a similar experience. Seeing my childhood life through the eyes of a parent of young children is...striking. I haven't yet had to navigate the death of a parent, I've only just faced the loss of a parent-in-law in the last six months, but I realize how much harder the family deaths are now that I'm a mom and am also old enough to so clearly see what I'm losing. Losing my first grandparent when I was in elementary school was sad; losing my final grandparent (five years ago next month) was excruciating. I'm choking myself up again. I dive back into episode six tonight, and plan to keep the tissues handy.

OK, this one brought out in onions in my cubicle. BTW, I think it's appalling how many men's rooms don't have changing tables. (Unless they really do have changing tables and my husband was just sly enough to make me believe they didn't so that he didn't have to deal with the pre-potty trained kids all those years ago.)

There's also one with an older gentleman talking to a younger adult, about how he's not trying to pry into his son's private decisions and that he respects his son for his ability to make appropriate choices...then the son is all "I'm going with the cash back!" and the dad is so proud. Ugh. I did kind of feel for the wife in the one commercial though, when she said "Oh, this is a surprise," because I, too, have been in a situation in which I overheard my husband making a proclamation about something "we" were planning despite our never having actually had the conversation in which the decision would have been made. [In my case, it was overhearing that we planned to retire to SC. I know why my husband wants to live in the Myrtle Beach area and I have no objection to moving to that area when we retire, but I would like to actually have a say in that decision before he tells family members that it's a done deal.]

I've seen a few interviews and such with Mr. Holbrook over the past couple years, and he still seems fairly lucid and in good spirits. His overall frailty and slightly vacant look in the episode may very well be a testament to the man's acting talent.

Right Guard Sport clear stick anti-antiperspirant/deodorant was the only thing my husband would use for the longest time (heaven forbid I accidentally buy the gel or the non-clear stick...), and it kept disappearing from more and more stores over time. When we got to the point that the only way to find it was to pay $20+ per stick on eBay, he finally found a Dove for Men product he liked that I can actually find at Target or the grocery. [And the heavens parted, and the angels sang, because keeping him dry and fresh was becoming quite the ordeal...]