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664th Friday Blog Roundup

You get to hear my annoyance because the store in this story requires you to create an account in order to leave them a message online.  And I’m not creating an account.


I received an email from a bookstore telling me that best selling hardcovers were 30% off.  Click “see all” to see the list of books.  I think I will.

So I clicked “see all” and saw that — WHAT? — John Green’s new book was on the list and was 30% off.*

Awesome.  I’ll just run over to the bookstore and buy John Green’s new book.

So I go into the bookstore and pick up the book.  I take it to the counter to pay.  The cashier charges me the full amount.  No, I tell her, look at this email on this handy little smartphone I have in my pocket.  This is YOUR email stating that the book is 30% off.  She could see it, but she wouldn’t honour it because it was not coming up that way in her machine.

So I left the store without the new John Green book because there are other bookstores in town and while the errand was now a waste of my time and energy, there was the principle of the situation.  I’m not going to reward a store for falsely advertising a product.

I looked on my phone and saw a nearby store was selling it at 20% off the cover price.  I walked over to said store and — lo and behold — it was there at 20% off, just as they stated.  So I bought the book.  Errand redeemed.

What is the point of all of this?  That John Green has a new book out.  And if stores are going to advertise, they need to honour their advertisements.  And that it’s easier to be cranky about false advertising than everything truly awful happening in the world right now.

* Yes, I just took screenshots of the email and the website because I’m that cranky right now.  I am right.  They are wrong.


It’s Friday the 13th.  I have this compulsive need to type that every time the Roundup falls on the 13th.


Stop procrastinating.  Go make your backups.  Don’t have regrets.

Seriously.  Stop what you’re doing for a moment.  It will take you fifteen minutes, tops.  But you will have peace of mind for days and days.  It’s the gift to yourself that keeps on giving.

As always, add any new thoughts to the Friday Backup post and peruse new comments in order to find out about methods, plug-ins, and devices that help you quickly back up your data and accounts.


And now the blogs…

But first, second helpings of the posts that appeared in the open comment thread last week.  In order to read the description before clicking over, please return to the open thread:

Okay, now my choices this week.

Searching for Our Silver Lining has a post about the “I’ll nevers” we make when we are in crisis.  As she admits: “I made a lot of statements and promises about how life would be one day when I was no longer in the trenches.”  She recounts a particularly trying day and says, “A big part of it was the guilt I faced as I could literally see the 2012 Cristy, with all the ‘I’ll nevers’ that I swore up and down not to do staring me in the face.”  This post.  That’s all I’ll say: this post.  Read it.

My Path to Mommyhood has a post about the often-used phrase “as a mother.”  But it’s not what you think.  It’s about the one time… maybe ever?… a person has caught themselves and corrected themselves in the moment, realizing their feelings maybe came from something larger than this one role.

Lastly, The Road Less Travelled has a post about buying diapers for her SIL’s niece.  What I thought was most interesting was the different feelings she and her husband experienced in the moment.  You’ll have to click over and read to the end to discover their reactions.

The roundup to the Roundup: Sharing my annoyance.  It’s Friday the 13th.  Your weekly backup nudge.  And lots of great posts to read.  So what did you find this week?  Please use a permalink to the blog post (written between October 6th and 13th) and not the blog’s main url. Not understanding why I’m asking you what you found this week?  Read the original open thread post here.

October 13, 2017   12 Comments

Read Your Own Story

I started re-reading the Magicians trilogy as a mind cleanser while I plow through a family-building-themed book (that, yes, I will need to discuss afterward because I have big feelings from it).  I keep thinking about a moment that occurs towards the end of the third book.  This is NOT a spoiler.

In The Magician’s Land, Quentin enters a library that contains a strange collection of books.  Each person has a book about their life.  On page 360  – 361, he learns:

These are the books of our lives.  Everyone has one.  See, here we are.  All together, as it happens, one book for each of us … Only people who are alive have them.  They come and go as people are born and die; this shelf goes on for miles in all directions.

They can take them down from the shelves, open them, read about the events of their lives.  If they want.

When Quentin hesitates, the librarian says to him,

Not as tempting as you’d think, is it?  I never opened mine.  There are those in the order who have looked, and I’ve seen their faces … You spend your whole life trying to understand yourself, what your story is about.  And then suddenly it’s all there.  All the answers, spelled out in black and white.

It’s a small moment of understanding, where Quentin responds that he is supposed to be writing his story, not reading it.  And then the scene is over; a choice made.

I’ve thought about this a lot; if I would read my book if I entered that library.  It’s different from a journal because it’s an objective, unemotional retelling of every moment from your life.  You can hover above the words, hover above your own existence, and see all the decisions you made, even the ones you no longer remember.  How strange would it be to read about events that have been erased from your own mind?  You’d have to believe it because it’s in the book, but it would feel like you were reading about a stranger during your early years.

Sometimes I think that I would re-shelve the book and let it go, and other times I think about how unlikely it would be to get the opportunity to read it twice, and the novelty of the experience would draw me to open the cover.  Would I have regrets?  Maybe.  But I think I’d still read the story of my life.

Would you?

October 11, 2017   8 Comments

Happy Birthday, Hobbit

The Hobbit is 80 years old.  I’m not sure why that’s remarkable except that the books stand outside of time since they’re set in a fictional world.  (Well, fictional to YOU.  The Shire is totally real to ME.)  No calling cards or gas-guzzling cars or bell bottoms to place it in an era.  How many pieces of writing can say that?  That they feel as relevant and timely now as they did when they were written?

I am admittedly more in love with The Lord of the Rings trilogy, I have a soft, mushy spot in my heart for The Hobbit.  I remember taking out the tape recorder when my brother was little and recording him reading aloud from The Hobbit just because I thought it was an important thing to note.  A person’s first reading of The Hobbit.

Tolkien’s books are books I turn to when I am stressed, and maybe it is because of the reason the Atlantic author gives for why his books still important:

In a world today where nuclear doom—for which The Ring can be read as a metaphor—hangs over every country, where efforts to work for common good seem to crumble, and where inequality and hegemony seem likely to persist in perpetuity, perhaps those quaint values are more crucial now than ever.

Or maybe it’s because when the world looks its bleakest — when people look their bleakest — his books are a reminder that there is good out there and that you usually stumble upon it if you allow yourself to get mixed up with the world around you.

Happy birthday, Hobbit.

October 10, 2017   3 Comments

#MicroblogMondays 163: Lucky He’s Cute

Not sure what #MicroblogMondays is? Read the inaugural post which explains the idea and how you can participate too.


Linus has a new irritating habit.  I line the bottom of his cage with newspaper and then cover the newspaper with his bedding.  It makes clean up a little easier.

A few days ago, he realized the newspaper was underneath and he started pushing the bedding aside with his nose and then tearing off long strips of paper and depositing them on the floor outside his cage.  If I tell him to stop, he gives me a look as if to say, “What?  You don’t like that?  The tearing noise or the mess on the carpet?  Which one?”

He really is my puppy.  He whines if I go to pick up the kids without him.  When we get to the school, he pops up at attention, eagerly waiting for them.

He’s lucky he’s cute.

Tell me about your cute pet.


Are you also doing #MicroblogMondays? Add your link below. The list will be open until Tuesday morning. Link to the post itself, not your blog URL. (Don’t know what that means? Please read the three rules on this post to understand the difference between a permalink to a post and a blog’s main URL.) Only personal blogs can be added to the list. I will remove any posts that are connected to businesses or are sponsored post.

1. Mali (No Kidding) 7. Empty Arms, Broken Heart 13. Cristy
2. Mali (A Separate Life) 8. Modern Gypsy 14. Middle Girl
3. Women On Television | Naba 9. Isabelle 15. Chandra Lynn (Pics and Posts)
4. Good Familes Do 10. Failing at Haiku 16. Turia
5. Loribeth (The Road Less Travelled) 11. Journeywoman 17. Laughing IS Conceivable
6. Jess 12. Stephanie Travelcraft Journal)

October 9, 2017   16 Comments

I Talk to Myself

While I don’t talk about myself in third person, I do talk to myself, so it was a relief to read this article and learn that I’m kind of doing it right.  Because to talk to yourself, you need to enter that third-person space and use your own name to ask yourself a question.  So I do that.  To myself.  Just not in front of other people.

I am my own best therapist.  I mean, yes, I also suck as a conversation partner, constantly berating myself as myself.  (So I guess I’m missing out on the de-stressing side of things.)  But that’s not the point.  The point is me.  In a conversation.  With myself.

99% of the time I don’t speak the words aloud.  That’s the convenient part about having a conversation with yourself.  It can be private; communicated from one part of the brain to another with nothing escaping into the outside world.  You ask yourself a question.  And you answer the question.  And the only thing the other people in the room observe is a somewhat vacant expression on my face.

Though I never speak aloud in third person because that would annoy the crap out of me if it occurred on an on-going basis.  But in my head?  Totally okay.

Do you talk to yourself?

October 8, 2017   9 Comments

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