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

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My Sweet Dumb Brain suggests that we need to have a pandemic postmortem. While that phrase feels a little too on-the-nose for an event that is continuing to kill millions of people, the impulse behind it is sound. What did we learn from this experience? What do we wish we had done better? What would we do exactly the same?

That is the piece that may be missing for me as we move back into the outside world: that discussion of what we learned. I did this in my bullet journal months ago. They were all practical things, such as lemons keep forever and can be used in so many dishes. Always have a lot of lemons on hand in case we have to go back into lockdown.

But there are the emotional lessons learned. We need structure in our day, and if it’s not there through obligations, we need to create it. We need very little to be happy. Beorn makes everything better.

But I think I need something bigger; pausing with family and friends to talk through the last 16 months.

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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 that are connected to businesses or are sponsored post.

The cicadas made me look at my life in 17-year jumps. I will be 63 (turning 64) the next time they come. After that, I will be 80 (turning 81). After that, I presume that I will be dead. I only have two more cicada visits in me.

We discovered this year that there are no Brood X cicadas on the eastern shore. I made Josh promise that 17 years from now, we’ll rent a place on the eastern shore for six weeks and miss them. I don’t need to see them again, though I would like to still exist the next time they come so I can snub them with a no-show.

It is weird to think of myself as 63, having everyone greet my birthday with the famous Beatles song. I will be wrinkled. My body will ache. The twins could be married. I will need to explain to new family members my dislike of cicadas and why they need to visit me by the ocean.

I read an article on a city that has a Department of Future Aging that thinks about how to make spaces more user-friendly to the elderly. It makes sense. It’s the one thing we all will (hopefully) do—age.

I love this:

The information set into motion a mindset shift that fundamentally altered Arnsberg’s future. Until that point, the city’s approach to aging had been classically “deficit-oriented” — focused on what seniors could no longer do and primarily putting resources into nursing homes, rather than creating programs that capitalized on what they could still offer.

It is a place that takes care of one another, giving worth to the elderly and worth to the young at the same time. I wish every place was as forward-thinking.

My 15th blogoversary AND 850 (really 750—remember, the misnumbering) Roundups falling in the same week? That feels like symmetry somehow.

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I was super excited to see Us on Masterpiece. David Nicholls is a fantastic writer, and this book holds a special place in my heart because I read it in Glasgow. How often can you remember exactly where you were or what was happening when you read a book? Almost never, right? But I remember walking through Glasgow and then curling up in a chair in the hotel, reading this story about a family coming apart. The moment I heard about this production, I put it in my calendar. I was going to watch it on June 20th, come hell or high water.

And then the television stopped working. Like five minutes into the first episode.

Isn’t that what you expected to happen? I mean, I clearly didn’t, but that’s the only way this story can go.

Luckily, I have the PBS app, so I can watch the episode by plugging the phone into the television until service can be fixed. Well worth it because the director and actors did a fantastic job capturing the story and moving it from page to screen.

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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 in order 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. In order to read the description before clicking over, please return to the open thread:

• None… sniff.

Okay, now my choices this week.

I love this post by Jewish IVF because sometimes the small wins are the biggest wins. In some ways, they’re the most important wins, and people rarely notice them. They are celebrated quietly, and this post is a reminder they should be celebrated loudly. Getting started is hard. She writes: “I’m equal parts embarrassed and proud. I’m ashamed that it took so long to actually do it … and I’m proud I finally took a step over the hump of the mental wall that was preventing me from starting.” Congratulations on jumping over the mental wall.

Much Ado About Nothing has a heartbreaking post about the aftermath of broken trust. And a second layer: “And then when I didn’t have all the pieces, instead of coming clean he made my brain work like a detective to put everything in order.” There are no good answers to her enormous questions, but we can all abide with her.

Lastly, Infertile Phoenix wrote an amazing post about building the life she wanted. All the hard steps along the way, and where she ultimately ended up. And I love this—”I thank my children every day. I had picked out a boy’s name and girl’s name and so I thank them both out loud quite often. We don’t get to be together on Earth in this lifetime, but I feel our love and their guidance as they bring me closer to myself, to others, and to my true purpose for being here: to be of service to my community.” What a gorgeous way of honouring a whole life.

The roundup to the Roundup: 15 years and 850 Roundups. Us on Masterpiece is really good. 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 18 – June 25) 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.

I’m in a weepy book mood. Sometimes I avoid books and movies that promise to leave me a sobbing wreck, and other times, I am like, “sign me up.” Sign me up for Lily and the Octopus. I would like to be left a puddle on the floor, thumbing through old pictures of Linus.

Sign me up for The Duke. I can’t even watch the trailer without getting choked up. Sweet old man art thieves trying to bring balance to the world? (Actually, I don’t know if Kempton Bunton was a sweet old man, but Broadbent feels like a sweet old man.) Yes, please.

Sometimes you just need a good cry.

What do you read/watch to bring on a good cry?

Even when I don’t set my alarm, my body somehow knows that the correct time is nearing, even though I wake up at a different time on the weekend. It’s not fine-tuned enough to not set an alarm clock and trust my brain, but more often than not, I partially wake up a few minutes before my alarm goes off. (Except for the times when my brain allows me to be startled awake by happily clapping people.)

So the term “grief alarm clock” feels right.

Somehow our body knows and alerts us to grief, even when we’re not totally conscious that an anniversary is approaching. That feeling of disquiet that comes when you sense a date on the horizon.

Passing along this article in case it’s helpful to anyone else.