This is the anniversary — the 17th anniversary, to be exact — of the very first Friday Blog Roundup. I didn’t know how to do hyperlinks back then, and there are probably older issues that weren’t tagged correctly and, therefore, don’t show up under the Roundup tag. But this blog has 951 other Roundup posts, mainly following the same format, week after week.

I still think all of the same things I said back on the 15th anniversary, two years ago.

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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 to find out about methods, plug-ins, and devices that help you quickly back up your data and accounts.

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And now the blogs…

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

• “Is a No Kidding Life a Radical One?” (No Kidding in NZ)

Okay, now my choices this week.

The Next 15000 Days has a post about being okay. She explains, “A young woman who is accepting her childless life finds comfort in reading my old posts. She wrote that she wants to see in my posts that I am OK. Because if I am OK, she will be too. Am I OK? I think I am!” It definitely sounds like more than an okay life (nature + ice cream = time well spent). But I especially love this reason for why people read blogs; why we connect to another person’s story.

Lastly, Finding a Different Path writes about medical imaging and finding photographic evidence of happy moments or problems. She writes of those early ultrasound pictures: “In more hopeful times, I saw these photos as the earliest possible baby pictures ever. I saw them as proof of the inexplicable medical miracle that was possible.” But I love love love this post for this: “All of them remind me that I’m a survivor. I can come out the other side of something traumatic with more strength than before.” 100% yes.

The roundup to the Roundup: Happy anniversary, Roundup. 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 June 30 – July 14) 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.

Someone posted this, and it made me think about the books I read over and over again vs. the books I only read once but still want to own.

I only have a few books that I reread over and over again, but one of those books — or, really, a trilogy of books — is The Magicians by Lev Grossman. I am in a constant state of rereading or relistening (because I bought the audiobooks, too) to the books because it’s an enjoyable experience. Like getting a massage. What back is satiated with getting one massage ever? None. Rereading the story is a pleasurable experience because I enjoy my time with the words.

But it’s also somewhat a personal bible, a way to understand hope and desire and relationships differently with each reread. I don’t just learn something new about the characters with each reread. I learn something different about myself. How I understand my time on earth or how to mourn or get through a difficult situation. The books have… well… not to be dramatic. The books have saved me.

I remember when I first heard about them, I drove to several stores the same night to pick up paper copies. Josh was at home with the twins, who were babies at the time, and I kept thinking with each store that I should go back. But then I would get behind the wheel and drive to another bookstore farther away until I owned all three books and could come home.

So, no, it’s not worth rereading every book, but choosing a handful that define who you are can be life-changing.

Do you have a personal bible, too, and what is it?

I was talking with a friend about how we both never leave the house, but after we got off, I felt guilty because I hadn’t gotten the mail in at least a week. I decided that I was going to put on my big girl panties and get the mail like a grownup.

But there were two crickets — CRICKETS — on my car: a small brown one and a big green one. I almost returned to the house, but a wave of guilt again hit me. I was going to get the mail. But I would enter the car from the passenger side to avoid the crickets.

They watched me from atop the side mirror while I drove.

My low tire pressure light went on.

The big green cricket hopped off and landed (likely) on the driver’s door. Just waiting for me to put air in my tires so it could jump into my hair and kill me.

I pulled up to the post office and pretended that I was checking out something on the passenger side, so I looked halfway normal to the people who were all parked and sitting in their cars for some reason. I casually slipped out the side door, grabbed the mail, and returned to enter through the passenger side, pretending I was just chilling in a parking lot. Don’t mind me. This is totally normal to enter through the side door and slide behind the wheel.

Josh told me he would meet me at the gas station to put air in the tires so I could avoid the big green cricket. But right when we met at the gas station, the skies opened up, and it began pouring. He slid into my front seat, and we sat for a half hour, watching the rain thump down against the windshield. “This is why I never go out. If you never go out, you never encounter situations like this.”

So true.

There was a tiny break in the rain, so we drove over to the air pump, and Josh unscrewed the cap on the first tire. The sky was just joking. Two seconds later, the sky opened again and dumped on him. Within seconds, his clothes were plastered to his body. He wins an award for saving me from the tenacious big green cricket. I mean, he never found him, but I’m sure he was lurking somewhere. The little brown cricket crawled behind the side mirror, so I’m sure he was plotting something.

In any case, this is why I never leave the house.

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

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Mental Floss had a list of the least popular names — number 1000 on the SSA list — from 1880 to 1932. And while I think “Lockie” is ready to hit the top 100 list, it made me think about what it means to have a least popular name. Most of us are near the middle, and my name was #7 the year I was born. But Marlena was 989. And the most Marlenas there have ever been was in 1978 when it was #429. It’s a world of few Marlenas. What does it mean to move through the world as a Marlena? Not an unusual name for the place you live but an unusual name anywhere in the world?

You can put your name into the SSA site and see its popularity over time.

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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 connected to businesses or sponsored posts.

I’ve been compiling life advice for the twins. Whenever I think of something they should know, I jot it down in a digital note. Of course, after I do that, I realize that a rambling letter from their mother is not the best way to convey important life advice. This probably isn’t the first time they should be hearing some of these things, but in some cases, it is.

I should have started earlier.

But would it have meant anything if not read with one foot out the door?

Some of it is practical, such as how to not make enemies in the dorm laundry room:

Get back to your laundry at least five minutes before it’s due to be finished.

Other items are more amorphous:

Apologize when you should apologize. Just because someone isn’t bringing something up doesn’t mean it’s over. It may mean they’re just not bringing it up and letting it grow inside their head. Apologize so that fire has no oxygen.

I would drop them in individual notes to open randomly, but they probably need all these thoughts from day one. So I’m putting them together to read and use and pass along.