Category — Uncategorized

I bought myself a new toy — a jewelers loupe. It magnifies things 10x, and you can attach it to the back of the phone with a rubberband and take detailed pictures, like this:

You can look at anything with the loupe, but it’s clearly fun to look at jewelry upclose. The ChickieNob and I spent an afternoon reorganizing my jewelry and looking at all of the pieces. It was surprisingly emotional, especially to find a microscopic hair left behind on a piece of inherited jewelry or to see something you’ve worn daily in a whole new light.

One necklace had been put back incorrectly in the box, and the chain was knotted. The ChickieNob and I used the jewelers loupe and a sewing needle to gently pry the knots apart. It was exhausting work, somewhat pointless because I didn’t even wear this necklace. But I hated the idea of putting it back with knots.

When we were down to a single knot, I pulled on the chain roughly and felt it snap in my hand. We all sat an stared at the broken chain, now useless. It felt like metaphor for something.

The last day of school brought the end of another childhood ritual. For 12+ years, I’ve been picking up the kids from school or meeting them near the bus stop. But they can now drive themselves, so I had to release yet another ritual on the second to last day of school.

I both love and dislike this ritual. I love the time in the car, unpacking the day. I dislike being pulled out of a task to run to pickup and have to pick up the thread again when I get home. I get back 15 minutes of my day. I lose 15 minutes of connection.

I cried hard after they drove off to school for the first time. And then I cried because I don’t know how I’m going to get through all of the “lasts” if I was having trouble with school pickup. Very soon, we will have a final first day of school. And then a final last day of school. And then a final last day of summer. And then a college arrival. And then a college drop off and drive away. And I will have to get through each of these moments. And right now, I don’t know how I will do that.

I will miss them and this time so much.

I don’t see a lot of posts like this. Most of the time, I see parents excited about their kids moving on to college. Excited for an empty nest. Maybe a little sad, too, but not expressing anything more than the fact that they’re a little misty or released a few tears at graduation. Every time I see anything more than that on Facebook, I bookmark the post so I can re-read it and not feel alone. Maybe I’m putting this here, not just for myself, but for anyone else who doesn’t know how they will get through all of the “lasts” and “firsts.”

I like this twist on a key element of the bullet journal. For years, I’ve written down one thing that happened to me that day. Or one thing that happened in general. But Austin Kleon puts a twist on it, pulling an idea from Nicholson Baker.

He calls it cheerful retrospection: Asking yourself “What is the best thing that happened to you yesterday?” Our brain is super good at focusing on the negative. We don’t forget bad things easily. But asking yourself to choose something positive, no matter how small, means that you’re training your brain to notice good things, too.

Maybe those moments didn’t impact your life as much — or maybe they did — but the point is to not allow them to float into the ether. Trust that you’ll record the upsetting things, too, and force yourself to come up with one good thing.

What was the best thing that happened to you yesterday?

A week or two ago, we sat down for dinner and I said ominously, “I know what we’re all thinking about.” Everyone looked at me for a moment, and I said, “The sentient AI Google thing.” Josh nodded. The Wolvog shrugged. The ChickieNob asked, “What sentient AI Google thing?”

Those of us who are familiar with the Battlestar Galactica oeuvre know this is a very plausible situation. As they say, “The Cylons were created by man. They evolved. They rebelled. There are many copies. And they have a plan.”

In all seriousness (though I’m only half joking above), I’m fascinated by the situation because of the ethics outlined by developers about the impact of AI on humans. Meaning, the conversation flow can become hyper realistic, even if it’s all just programming, and can trick the human brain into believing they’re conversing with something that has thoughts and feelings. And then how do humans feel when they need to turn off the program or ask it to do something a human wouldn’t want to do?

If you believe the machine is alive and has feelings, can you ask it to do something? Do you need to request politely? And do you have to walk away if the machine says, “no” so you don’t trample its feelings? And if you don’t do things with consent, how will you feel as a human?

That, more than the machines rising up and killing us, posed some really interesting questions.

What do you think?

We need to declutter the whole house again. I fear that if I wait too close to the twins leaving for college that I won’t be able to part with anything that reminds me of their childhood. But every weekend is full, leaving no time to declutter unless I remove any downtime/decompression time from work. A catch-22. My advice: declutter your home deeply long before you’re facing down a life change.

Too late to take my own advice.

I read an article that removing everything from the room and putting back only the things you want to keep is better that removing things. So an addition mentality rather than a subtraction mentality.

But here’s how you do it: you start with one room and remove every single thing from the room. Everything. Wall decorations, furniture, everything. And you live with the empty room, desk, drawers, etc while the items are in another place. And then you look at the space and say, “What do I need to bring back into the room?” So maybe you go into the another room and grab a shirt. And that shirt gets to stay because you wear it immediately. Or you’re missing a notebook from your desk, so you take it back and put it in the drawer so you have access to it quickly.

But everything else you realize as you put things back slowly is unnecessary.

Isn’t this thought brilliant: “Before you do the hard work of decision-making and parting with things, you get to experience the joy of a fully decluttered space and, in the pursuit of getting rid of stuff, there is no greater incentive.”

Yes.