Four minutes of baby footage. Hey, at least it's more interesting than watching The View

For those of you who read the previous post in the first few hours after I wrote it, take note of a correction: Lump is not 27# but 17#, a glaring typo that made my nine month old sound like a hungry hungry hippo.

* * *

My sister commented the other day about a video I had made of Lump crawling. That was odd, considering I'd told no one about it and had only uploaded it to Youtube the night before. Apparently my every move is followed by my adoring fans. That, or my family is creepy nosy. :).

A word about the video, which was taken May 16th. Yes, both Lump and Smiley are in their diapers (or in Smiley's case a pull-up). Lisa objected to this saying that I never seem to show the baby in actual clothes, leaving the impression we live in the sticks and make moonshine for a living. I have no idea why the baby was sans clothes, so you've got me there, but I'd just given Smiley a bath and he should have been busy getting his PJ's on.  As you'll see he had other ideas.

Aside from the fact that I want to gag every time I hear my voice on tape, I sound a little exasperated at Smiley. I don't remember why, other than the PJ thing, and for all I know I'm hearing something that wasn't there in the first place.

Gadzooks, I like to over-analyze everything, don't I? Geesh.  On with the show!

 

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Just a family update

I won't waste time apologizing for not posting in a week, as I'm betting for some of you it was a welcome break. I will however offer some explanation:

A) I've just been busy as heck with work. I've said I seem to accomplish more now  in four hours than I used to in twelve under the old owners. I'm only half-kidding. It's amazing what you can get done when you aren't handcuffed by a budget the size of a pimple. I'm enjoying working under the new regime, although some of that might be a honeymoon glow that will wear off in time.

B) I haven't had any time to read anything. For instance, I just now finished 'Salem's Lot, which I've been plugging away at for weeks. With book reading down to a crawl there's been no time to visit other blogs. The guilt of failing to meet the tit-for-tat expectations of blogdom has slowed my desire to post.

C) I've actually been working on my fiction, which is a nifty change of pace.

D) Life, in general, has been hectic.

Ok, brief updates:

1. Me: still employed, still devilishly handsome. I kicked caffeine cold turkey four or five days ago, suffered through one day of exhaustion, and emerged with essentially the same energy level as always. The reason for the change?  I was downing two or three 20 oz. Diet Pepsi Max's a day, along with some standard diet soda, and I was getting a bit jumpy.

2. Lisa: still married to a devilishly handsome man. In high gear to prepare for LuLu's upcoming birthday party and YaYa's dance recital.

3. YaYa: 50 pounds at her last checkup and healthy. However, the doc did announce that she was constipated and prescribed a mild fiber supplement. Despite YaYa's best efforts to convince us that this was a malady worth mounds of sympathy and special attention, we've basically told her to be quiet and start pooping. :)

Last Friday I took a call at work from her school announcing that she had tripped and hit her face against the corner of a desk. No stitches, but a heck of a shiner and a small but glaring gash running horizontally across her left eye. Even now, nearly a week later it's still black and blue.

So guess what? Tuesday was 1st grade's turn to 'host' Mass, and during the homily on the Good Samaritan the priest said "And just last week one of our first graders - I won't say who because I don't want to embarrass them - fell when practicing for Mass and hurt her eye. And you know what? All the people who stopped and helped her? They were Good Samaritans too."

 You should've seen the grin on the kid - she loved the attention from her peers that gave her!

3. LuLu - 40# and healthy. Having some trouble with lower case letters at school but easily passed the 'entrance exam' for K5 next year.

4. Smiley - more and more often he goes #1 on the potty (standing up in front of it actually, which impressed me) and sometimes even #2. Just sometimes mind you.

Sadly, we've given up our long awaited placement at a great Montessori school for the fall and stuck with his special ed class for another year. He still barely talks, but he's shown some improvement. His non-verbal communication has greatly expanded in recent weeks.

5. Baby aka Lump - Lump being a nickname her Mom is trying to make stick. Just fine and dandy, sleeping through the night and a solid 17#. Of late she refuses all attempts to be spoon fed, preferring finger food and/or to slobber food in with her own hands.

I hope to post again tomorrow. Until then, have a good one.

Eating Out with the Family, or How to Ruin a Meal

After work today Lisa and I took the family to Boston Market. The total for three kids meals and two adult versions?

$32.

"For $32 I should've gone to Olive Garden," I told the cashier. And I wasn't joking; our Mother's Day meal was $48, and a heck of a lot better.

Still, at least none of the money was burned on tips. The day before I'd taken YaYa out to a restaurant for a father/daughter 'moment' and wound up having one of my old customers - aka one of my old 3rd shift 'regulars' - as my waitress. No chance she didn't recognize me since she greeted me by name when I walked in the door.

Shi*.

Tardy service, a spilled soup, slow refills, and she never once looked me in the eyes, not even when she stopped at my table and chatted for a few minutes, but I still felt compelled to lay down a $5 tip on a $14 meal.

I didn't even have the pleasure of a relaxing meal, since YaYa was a pill. At one point she snapped her fingers at the girl to get her attention - WTF????

"Boy she's mad today," the waitress said.

"No she's not, she's being a brat," I said. "Apologize. Now!"

She did, and was ok the rest of the way, but what an impression to leave behind.

[BUT . . it's not like  I haven't seen the waitress in some of her worst-ever 'please let me forget this night' moments, enough to earn YaYa a pass just this once.]

Another awkward moment: the waitress asked about another regular from back in the day. He was murdered several years ago, taken out in the woods in Michigan and executed, to tell you the truth, but apparently she hadn't heard the news.

Yeah, you try answering the inevitable questions after your kid hears you say that at dinner.

* * * *

In answer to some of the comments:

1. Nope, I haven't seen The Best Man in Grass Creek. but I'll bounce over to Netflix shortly and see if I can't add it to my queue. UPDATE: Couldn't find it there, but the Milwaukee library system has a copy. I'll take a look for it over the weekend.

2. Thanks to FisherKristina for her help in fixing an AOL error that was prohibiting me from posting.

3. Nah, there was no Bluetooth involved at the mall, she was just a kook. I looked real hard for an earpiece but came up empty. But you're right, sometimes those phones lead to all kinds of misunderstandings.

 I once held a Fantasy Baseball draft for a league I ran, right around the birth of bluetooth/hands free technology.  After each selection my buddy Tre would politely intone "John selects Ken Griffey. Ken Griffey" and so on to another owner who couldn't make the physical draft.

 At the end of the draft Tre took out his bluetooth and phone and laid them on the table.

"Oh, thank God," one of the other guys said, honestly relieved. "The whole day I thought you were just some nut who talked to himself."

True story.

P.S. I Love You

             

Oh, sure it was sappy, over-the-top, and featured too many Irishmen, but you know what: I really liked this movie.

P.S. I Love You is the movie version of the Cecelia Ahern bestseller. It tells the story of the recently widowed Holly, played by Hilary Swank, who is guided through the grieving process by a series of letters and packages her deceased husband arranged to have delivered in the year after his death.

Swank isn't an actress who's name screams 'romantic comedy', but she does an outstanding job as the grieving Holly. The supporting cast, led by Kathy Bates, Lisa Kudrow, and Harry Connick, Jr,. shine. And the story, while over the top, keeps you involved and pulls at your heart.

Flaws? Not many, and certainly not worth much of a mention. I didn't buy the main characters as 19 and 24 year olds in the flashbacks, but what are you going to do, invent a fountain of youth? I thought the couple squabbled an awful lot, considering we were able to glimpse but the smallest portion of their life together. And SPOILER WARNING I thought her choice of a final  love interest was odd, and an obvious attempt to clone of her late husband. It didn't scream 'I've moved on', which after all was the point of the movie.

As romantic comedies go, 75 out of a 100; on my own scale 80 out of 100.

* * * *
A word about the DVD extras. "The name of the game is Snaps' is one of the oddest but most intriguing DVD extras I've seen. You need to watch it.

Also, the interview with author Cecelia Ahern was sinful. One, because she was all of twenty-one when she wrote the book and made her fortune, and two, because she is very attractive, a true Danny-girl.

[That bleeping Snaps song won't leave my head. 'Snaps is the name of the game, the name of the game is Snaps'.]

 

More events of today

After the events at the mall I took LuLu and Smiley to the library. You know all that poetic nostalgia I have for my time as an employee there?

Yeah, tempered a bit.

Today The Milwaukee Journal-Sentinel  published an online database of every city employee's salary and financial benefits for 2007.

Naturally, I looked up the folks I know. I was shocked. There are some former co-workers of mine who still have the same position, and all of them have a minimum of 15 years on the job by now, and probably close to twenty.

Even with overtime, the average of the bunch was $25,000.

Wow.

Then I saw the name of my old supervisor. She's since been promoted and now stands two responsibility/pay levels above my old job. With a hefty chunk of overtime pay she just barely approaches what I made last year.

And for the record, I make diddly-poo by most standards.

So the moral of the story is: I guess you can't go home again, or the grass isn't greener, or whatever other platitude you choose to recite.

And feel free to sock anyone who says all city workers are overpaid.

But I guess I really did make the right choice in leaving the library ten years ago.

Huh. Will wonders never cease?

* * * *

One thing about that online database, and the criminal and civil court records available on the web, and the Department of Neighborhood Services reports, etc.

I understand they've always been open records, available to all.

But I think the web does a disservice by having it sit out there for all to see. If I want to know what Suzie Q makes for a living or when she was busted for meth, I should at least have to put forth the effort to go to the library or city hall to find out.

I think that physical distance weeds out the freaks and the peeping Tom's. If you go all that way to view the info, chances are you had a legitimate reason to do so.

And yes,  I'm guilty of pandering to the voyeristic nature of it too. But hypocrite or not, it isn't right.

* * *

Here's a shock. The city inspector came back today and out of the blue said "now don't go writing about this on Slapinons again."

Turns out he's read the site, and has possibly visited more than once. Oopsie. Small world. 

Quote of the Day, and a Lovely Lady at the Mall

After work today I packed up LuLu and Smiley and headed for the mall to have my wedding ring repaired. Somehow I'd managed to flatten the bottom of the ring, almost to the point it would've stood up on its own if it wasn't so top heavy.

On the way home I called Lisa.

"Yeah, they said it would be a week and I could pick it up next Monday night."

"A week? How bad did you damage it?"

"It hasn't changed since you saw it. I think they just wanted to send it to a goldsmith in Chicago."

"Oh. Well at least it'll be free."[we'd purchased the lifetime warranty back in the day]

"Yeah, but I'm really upset. It's the first time in twelve years that ring's been off my finger for more than a minute."

"Awww, that's sweet. But I know you love me baby.. . "

"Nah, it's not that. I'm upset this didn't happen the week you were out of town. You're really going to cramp my chances now."

"God, how long did it take you to think of  that joke?"

"Oh, about ten seconds after the jeweler told me the news."

Sighs. "Dork."

* * * *

I do miss the ring though. There's a depression around my finger that borders on a permanent disfigurement, like some poor Chinese girl's feet a hundred years ago. And I'm very very used to twisting it constantly. It's absence is  . . bothersome.

* * * * *
On the way out of the mall a black woman walked up to the three of us and said "Loretta! Pull it god da** it! MotherF*er pull the g***amned cord bit**."

Well now. Allrighty. Not cool to say in front of the kids, not that they even noticed.  I quickly gauged the physical threat level, dismissed her, and got on with enjoying my Aunt Annie pretzel.

Priorities and all. Besides, by now I'm used to kooks.

But on the way out I noticed that without meaning to, the woman and my fine trio seemed to be in sync, We turned, she turned. She went left in front of us, we wound up going left. At one point Smiley ran in front of her towards the escalator and I had to push past her, begging her pardon. She said she understood and said 'go ahead" polite as can be.

Ten feet later she began talking to Lorretta again. I noticed security quietly encircling our cozy group and decided it was time to get the kids back to the car. Still not upset, mind you, because this was diddly-poo. This isn't New York, but it ain't Mayberry either.

But the whole way through Boston Store we do the same joined-at-the-hip thing. Every time there was a chance to skip ahead the kids would want to stop and look at this or that, or jump on the giant shoe pics plastered on the floor.

We all walked out the door together, and the woman turned around, flipped the guards the bird, and said "See you later motherf**ers".

By now I've got a smile on my face because its pretty obvious this chick and I are going down together, Bonnie and Clyde style. I can't get rid of her, and now there's cops in cars following behind us. And no, I didn't want to stop walking, because I wasn't keen on the kids seeing more of the show.

It turns out this woman is parked three cars away from us, despite the fact that this is the largest mall in the state of Wisconsin, with a parking lot the size of Rhode Island. As she starts going off on the guards as her grand finale,  Lu starts to argue with me about where she should sit. Man, kids can be oblivious. I felt like laughing.

"Do you not see the crazy lady over there? Did you somehow miss the cops that were following us, or the  car that almost ran over Smiley? What do you think is going on here?  I really don't need to have two little kids get in my way if all hell breaks loose. Get in the bleepin' car"

And yeah, I'm proud to say I actually said 'bleepin'."

Misc Chatter

AOL's being funky tonight. Despite working within their software I have been asked to sign in whenever I visit an AOL owned site, including Slapinions. What a pain.

* * * *

An anniversary of some importance today. It's been two years to the day since I witnessed a fatal accident at work. As cliche as it may be, it seems like only the blink of an eye since it happened. It was easily one of the worst days of my life (and please Lord, let it remain solidly near the top of the heap, never to be bumped down the ladder by something worse)

I thought of that a lot today, especially since an unexpected city inspection took me into the scene of the accident for a long period of time (and yes, the inspection was a coincidence. I asked).

As on that day, my prayers go out to the family of the deceased.

* * * *

Even now, at 10 o'clock at night, I'm bitter that it isn't Memorial Day. All last week I thought today was the holiday. And even though I had planned on working today I'd promised the kids they could stay at Grandma's last night and sleep in. Oopsies. Once I found out the true date  I was strangely disappointed and sulky about it most of the day. Big baby.

* * * *

Since Lu wanted to see the dance concert, me and the two oldest girls threw down for yet another three tickets to Lisa's show yesterday. YaYa really didn't want to go but sucked it up and held it together, and both of them were pretty darn good during the show. Thanks for that.

* * * * *

Word came to me today that a former co-worker from my years at the library has passed away. She was a very large woman of considerable girth. At right around 5 feet tall her weight had a crippling affect and even as early as 1993 she walked with a cane and stopped and wheezed every few feet when in motion.. She continued to deteriorate in my time there, to the point where she became known for soiling the office chairs because of the pressure the weight put on her bowels.

I was always nice to her - believe it or not, my other job did not require me to play the part of the bad guy nor did it make me bitter and snappish - but in the recent years my recollections of her have joined a sort of supporting cast in my head: the knife-wielding transsexual, the morbidly obese woman, the mousy super friendly guy who carried pocket notebooks, the homeless customers, etc. She became a caricature, and frankly I feel guilty about that now that she's dead.

But you know what really sucks? She was recruited, heavily recruited, in her home state of Iowa by Marquette University, attended the school here on a full scholarship, picked up two degrees including one in philosophy, and then wasted the rest of her life on an entry level civil service job and ate herself to a lonely death over the course of the last thirty years. She used to say it was Gods Will. What a waste. What a lousy waste.

* * * *

On a similar but less dire score, Saturday marked two years since I ventured into Weight Watchers. Six months later I had dropped fifty pounds, then quit smoking and put it all back and more. I don't know, maybe the smoking was just an excuse to return to the food I love. Who knows? 

But I reckon it's time to start trying again.

My Kid Could Paint That - Review

                                     

Outside of politics and religion few things can get people as fired up as a debate on the value of modern art.

It's easy at first glance to dismiss it as lazy, a brainless splattering of paint created by someone who couldn't make the cut in the world of 'real' painting. Even within the art world there's a hardy core of people who decry it as little more than decorative wallpaper, or as a reviewer once described Jackson Pollack's work "a joke in bad taste."

That perception lies at the heart of My Kid Could Paint That, a documentary on the career of Marla Omstead. At the time of the film Marla was a four year old prodigy who's abstract canvases sold for thousands and made her the talk of the media. Then a 60 Minutes expose alleged that her father, not her, was the true painter and an intense backlash began. Today, after having videotaped her creative process to refute the charges Marla continues to sell paintings, but the controversy never truly died out. The filmed work differs in tone and style from her other pieces, and questions about their authenticity linger.

The filmaker never blatantly chooses sides, but by his choice of what conversations and film to include, it's clear he believes fraud was involved.

My own opinion? I think she did a lot of the painting, but I think her  father stepped in to help her out,  maybe simply by 'directing' her, or by finishing them himself. He certainly does himself no favors in this film. On camera he comes across as a stage Dad eager for the limelight, pushy with his daughter, a bit creepy, and if body language means anything, estranged from his wife.

No matter; I wasn't there. I can't tell you if she did the work herself, and neither can the director. More to the point - does it matter who painted them? Either way the paintings are stunning, 'worthy of the Metropolitan' or so one reviewer states on camera.. So if Marla didn't paint them, and her father did, who cares?

Apparently a whole bunch of people. I'm not naive. I know that a doodle from Da Vinci is worth more than a masterpiece from you or me. But it surprises me that it matters so much in this case. It's more than a financial issue, it's as if the artistic worth of the pieces are based solely on the girl.

I don't get it. To my mind having the paintings debunked would seem to be a boon to the art world. No matter their level of sophistication, how much of life and love and emotion can a four year old instill in a painting? As it stands, the paintings might be technically proficient but devoid of depth.

Ok, if she was outed your pocketbook would take a hit. But wouldn't you look at the canvas on your wall knowing that a grown man with a lifetime of experiences under his belt created it  and say "wow, there really is X and Y and G in this piece, and it truly means R and S and C?" Doesn't that mean something?

I guess not. And if you think that isn't the center of this whole Marla 'issue' top to bottom, you're crazy. Watch the film and listen to the condescension the gallery owner, Marla's gallery owner, has for abstract art as a hyper-realist himself.

It's all about our obsession with liking and valuing this work while at the same time holding it in contempt. It's twisted, it's foolish, and it's very real.

An interesting film, but short in length, wishy-washy on announcing the director's bias even while it's obviously atwork, and arguably guilty of (further) exploiting the child. As documentaries go, 74 out of 100.

* * * *

I used to scoff at modern art and consider it junk, but it's growing on me as I get older. I spent part of this evening on No Ordinary Moment looking at some pieces and thinking that I should encourage Lisa to paint something to hang on the office walls. Interested Lis?

Oh, one more thing. Marla might have more talent than other kids, but part of that can be chalked up to her parents. Honestly, if one of my kids just started dumping paint on a canvas in the quantity she does to start a piece, I'd freak out, scold them for wasting my hard earned money, and shoo them to bed. Kudos for them - and their pocketbook - for allowing her to give it a go in the first place.

The 2008 Dance Recital

This weekend is a big one in the Slapinions household because it's home to the annual dance recitals. Best of all, after fifteen years Lisa has returned to dancing and is performing throughout the weekend.

Previous dance recitals were amply covered here. Check them out if you have time - 2005, 2007, (two that year actually) even the awful, please Lord-let-me-forget-about-it May of 2006 wasn't strong enough to completely deny a post.

With Lis in the show I was responsible for hauling YaYa, her friend Sophia, Chris' daughters Faith (who was in a dance at the Bradley Center herself recently) and Meadow to the gig. The venue had changed from Whitefish Bay High to another suburban high school where, thankfully, parking is no longer a problem.

We joined Lisa's father, Mom, and stepdad at the show. Sadly no one from my side was able to attend due to scheduling conflicts.

Lu was a lion in 'The Lion Sleeps Tonight' and I had difficulty discerning which dancer was her  because of the makeup and costume. [Believe me Lu, I tried honey.] But, I can honestly say all the kids were good, as 4 year olds go :)

Lisa did the opening dance, a ballet number, and a tap dance. She prefers tap and I watched the dance with a smile on my face because you could see  from the balcony how happy she was to be tapping away.

Outside of the family numbers, I have to give credit to some unexpected choreography during the Oz Medley, a very impressive Phantom of the Opera number, and a great seated dance from Will Rogers Follies.

A few numbers into the show Lisa's longtime childhood dance instructor, Donna Jeanne, showed up to watch her former pupil.

Lisa wrote it off as nothing because she bought the tickets for Donna and her boyfriend. Pbbbt, I said. You could buy me tickets  for someone's music recital and I'd be danged if I'd show up . . .  unless I cared for the person and was genuinely interested.

Here's Lis and Lu

and her and YaYa

Lu and Meadow:

and Jaspare, Lisa's step-Dad

* * * *

Afterwards YaYa begged to have her friend stay overnight. After refusing a half dozen times I said it'd be up to Sophia's Mom. I thought I was in the clear, as she's always said no. Nope, she was quick to agree, and I was up poop creek :)

That set off Lu, who started crying and saying "it's not my day anymo', now it's her's. So I said we'd rent a movie and she'd have sole dibs on picking it out.

At Blockbuster I had a Moment of Maturity: Lu wanted to rent Barbie's Princess and the Pauper, which they've seen a zillion times and own to boot, although God knows where the DVD is at home. Instead I tried pushing her to pick up the new Barbie Fairy movie. It was ridiculous, I thought, that she'd even ask to rent that old movie.

She demurred, and when I looked down at her I realized she was trying to politely but firmly stick to her gut yet was a minute away from conceding. It doesn't matter, I thought, What difference does it make what movie she wants to watch? Pick your battles, why hurt her feelings over something as lame as this?

"Here Lu, let's rent Pauper," I said, and she was one happy camper.

Then I asked what she wanted to eat, and she said "Pizza Pizza' which is the kid's term for Little Caesear's. I wasn't having that but and wanted to treat them to dinner, so I compromised by taking them to the slightly upscale Italian Restaurant across the street from our house.

"This is the fanciest restaurant I ever ate in," said Sophia. And with a trio of kiddie cocktails (extra cherries) and a pizza, the kids were great company.

When it was rounded out by watching Princess and the Pauper  which is a pretty fine film, I will admit - and later a Diamondbacks/Detroitgame, itwas a fine day all around.

Lost: There's No Place Like Home, pt. 1

I feel like a bit of a charlatan writing a summary of Lost this week, because nothing happened. The season was supposed to conclude with a two-hour episode, with this being the first half. Then the writer's strike ruined the year and the finale was expanded to three hours, with this bit lopped off and sent away on its own like the black sheep of the family.

To me it just felt incomplete.  I think it was blatantly obvious that this was Act I of a play that was rudely interrupted.

Ok. With that rant out of the way, on with the show.

On the island Jack and Kate set out after the helicopter and run into Sawyer and Aaron. With the news of the attack on 'New Otherton' Jack sets out on his own and sends Kate and Aaron back to the beach. Sawyer reluctantly joins Jack, admonishing him that 'you don't get to die alone'.

Meanwhile Sayid has returned to the island with the freighter's lifeboat and Daniel, having voiced an urgent need to get off the isle, ferry's the first group of six back to the freighter, Sun and Aaron among them.

Which would be great, save for the fact that Desmond has found an entire room full of armed explosives aboard the ship, just waiting to be detonated.

Meanwhile Sayid and Kate set out after Jack (is it just me, or do these people wander off in the jungle looking for one another a lot?) Kate displays tracking skills worthy of the Deerslayer but it doesn't help much. Richard and the Others capture them and lead them away.

Jack and Sawyer eventually find the helicopter and learn Hurley is with Ben and Locke. Seeing as that group is headed for an ambush at the Orchid station they decide to . . go wander off in the jungle looking for them.

Off the island, in the near future, we see the Oceanic Six re-introduced to the world. Their families, with the exception of Kate's, are waiting for them.

 

In  a press conference their fictitious escape from 815 is detailed. Eight - not six - 815 passengers escaped and spent a day in the water before beaching on an uncharted island. Kate gave birth to Aaron there. Then on Day 103 they found an abandoned sailboat on and escaped to a nearby island, blah blah.

Later we see Jack reunite with his Mom and hold a memorial servicefor his father. Claire's Mom comes up to him and in a very Empire Strikes Back moment, tells him Claire was his half-sister. Oh, the shock!

Sayid is reunited with Nadia and they marry in time to attend Hugo's birthday party. At the party Hurley sees the 'numbers' on the odometer of his car and freaks out.

Meanwhile Sun has gone behind her father's back and purchased a controlling interest in his company. This was as revenge for her father's hatred of Jin, which she blames for his death.

And . . yeah, that's pretty much it. A lot of folks moving around doing nothing, accomplishing nothing. Whoo-hoo.

No big questions to ask or debate, so I'll leave you with this: Lost has two seasons left. Without question the Oceanic Six will probably leave the island in this season's finale. I assume at some point Jack and crew will return, as hinted at in his breakdown last year. But aside from that story arc, where will the future of Lost lie?

Will the show move off island and concentrate on the Sayid/Ben vs. Widmore/Desmond motif, or will it continue as is, with the Oceanic Six occupying one aspect of the show and the remaining survivors (still on the Island) continuing with their own life?

Will there be any remaining survivors? Dialogue hints say Sawyer survives at least long enough to decide to remain, but as for the rest, I can't see them choosing to stay (except Rose and Bernard).

I don't know. But I do know that I'm hoping the two hour finale wipes the floor with this below average episode.