Another thought from Exciting Times by Naoise Dolan intersected with how I’ve been using Instagram. With the exception of a few family members, I only follow tourism sites, such as Visit Wales, Visit Scotland, and Tourisme Bretagne. It means my feed is filled with pictures of the ocean because all of the areas I love are connected to water. Even when I can’t be at the ocean, I can be at the ocean.

In the book, one of the characters—Edith—takes a picture before she eats anything while they’re out. She says on page 120:

Another day we got croissants and she said something in Cantonese, then translated—”Camera eats first”—as I made to pick mine up. That made me smile. I liked when she was unapologetically earnest about things, even if it was the angle of a pastry. She said Instagram made her look at everything more closely. Whenever she felt sad, she had a wall of happy memories to look back on.

Instagram with its water pictures is my wall of happy memories right now, even if they’re not my memories. I’m looking at other people’s pictures of places I’ve been and places I haven’t gone yet. It makes me happy to see so much water and the occasional rock stack or two.

I mentioned Exciting Times by Naoise Dolan in the July book roundup, and I really loved what it had to say about relationships and learning about yourself. But it also had an economic thread running through the book. The main character is middle class. The two relationships are both upper class.

The way money plays into our idea of adulthood came up in the book and a newsletter at the exact same time. Or, I guess, I was reading both at the same time. In the book, Dolan writes on page 31:

Staying in his flat was possibly a rupture from the capitalist notion that I was only worth something if I paid my own way economically.

And then in the newsletter,

We talk to therapist Jordan Pickell, who notes that many of us have grown up with the idea that independence is the greatest marker of success: Can we live alone? Pay for things alone? Take care of ourselves? Write a book and make it popular on our own? But the healthiest adults are those who are interdependent, supporting the people they love and allowing themselves to be supported in return.

It seemed especially fitting right now, during COVID-19, because almost everyone needs some help, whether it is literally day-to-day aid, unemployment money, or simply that segments of life—such as childcare—continue as normal so you can take care of the things you need to take care of.

It’s such a bizarre idea when you step back from it. How did we decide that paying your own way made you a grown up vs. having the emotional maturity to treat people well and contribute to society? Certainly in other times in history (and in other cultures right now), your worth isn’t determined by what you can buy or the amount of money you earn. Your ability to pay for things. It’s all about contributions. Are you playing your role? Are you keeping the community moving forward together?

It was food for thought.

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

*******

I love local news. I forgot how much I like local news until I read an ode to why local journalism is important in a newsletter. I’m not talking about the town listserv or a Facebook group—I’m talking about the weekly newspaper that you can pick up in the front lobby of the library or have mailed to your home.

It is rarely depressing in the way that the national news is depressing. And it’s exciting when someone I know is featured in the paper; they become a mini local celebrity. When we go to Chincoteague, I always pick up their local newspaper and read it to catch up on things because we know so many of the names and places in those pages, too.

Do you have a local newspaper? And do you read it?

*******

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.

Thus begins my staycation. For those playing along at home:

March: Surely we’ll be able to go to Ireland in July. COVID-19 will be under control by then.

April: We may not be able to fly this summer. Maybe we should drive to Montreal.

May: The Canadian border is closed. We need to stay close to home. Maybe we can do a week at the beach.

June: We are going nowhere. Nowhere. Nowhere ever. We are stuck at home foreeeeeeever.

I was at peace with this in July. I was thankful that Josh cleared weeds out of the backyard and set up a high velocity fan to blow while we’re reading (chemical-free mosquito solution). There were benefits of staying home. Easy access to the bathroom = drink all the seltzer you want. No long drives or waiting in line or mask wearing for hours on end.

But last week, I realized that it had been over eight months since I had seen running water. Eight months. I couldn’t stop thinking about the opening to Spalding Gray’s Impossible Vacation (has there ever been a more perfect time to understand that book?) and his mother’s feelings about being able to see Narragansett Bay. Not that I am going to fall apart mentally from being unable to see the ocean but… I related. The longest I usually go without seeing the ocean is the four months between December and April.

Going to the river (or the ocean) means (1) bringing all food and water, (2) avoiding all inhabited areas—being willing to walk far to get to a spot without humans, (3) figuring out how to not use a public restroom at any point. Entering and exiting like ghosts.

I will be around this week. Reading a lot of books. Maybe working our way through the new Umbrella Academy.

The impulse to own a waffle-iron during my first 45 years of life: 0 times.

The impulse to own a waffle-iron during one random week of the pandemic: 78 times.

The Wolvog loves waffles, but I didn’t want to own one more tool or appliance. All was fine—for his first fifteen years, he just ordered them when we were at a restaurant. Except we’re no longer going to restaurants. Or hotels with breakfast rooms. Or… anywhere one gets waffles.

I bought a $9 electric waffle maker and told the twins I would leave batter in the refrigerator and they could make themselves waffles in the morning. They were happy, and the Wolvog informed me that while the little waffle maker was enough, it was not the waffle of his dreams.

I wanted him to have the waffle of his dreams.

So I bought an old-fashioned waffle iron that weighs twenty pounds. You heat it up on the stove and then pour in the batter. I had to try it the day it arrived, so I made waffles at 9 pm after I cleaned it. Golden. Fat. Crispy. Buttery. The Wolvog sighed as he ate and said, “In less than one week, you have hit peak waffle.” There is no higher compliment.

So I now own a waffle-iron. And a mini waffle maker. It’s breakfast-for-dinner time.

*******

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:

• “The Losing of Things” (Stirrup Queens) —thanks, Jess!

Okay, now my choices this week.

Look at me getting all loosey goosey with the dates. But I read Searching for My Silver Lining’s post about bobbing this week. She returns to a memory of learning how to tread water while holding a brick—part of her lifeguard training—and how that skill transfers to today, when so many people are exhausted from emotionally treading water. She writes, “In short, though I’m exhausted, I’m still somehow afloat while desperately treading water with cement boots. I’m seeing this from others too. May we all continue to bob.” Love it.

Jewish IVF has a post about people getting comfortable with the new normal. She points out: “There are people who have gotten used to the new world. They’re out and about in a way that works for their family. Then there are those of us who are still as worried today as we were in the tail-end of March.” I am still in the tail-end of March phase. And as she says, it’s not the black-and-white facts that give her anxiety but all of the grey areas where we need to make decisions because we’re not being given concrete, consistent guidance.

Lastly, Hopelessly Infertile and Surrounded by Fertiles took a pregnancy test on CD44. It was negative, and she writes: “I didn’t cry when I got the negative test. I never expected anything different. I didn’t even feel like I wanted to cry until I talked to my gyn’s office and they told me they wanted me to come in for my annual checkup… in November.” In another time and place, she would have gotten what she needed emotionally from her doctor. But it’s these small moments: that sense of irreality that comes during what were once the outlier experiences. Which are now part of the old normal; covered up by the new normal.

The roundup to the Roundup: I hit peak waffle. 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 August 7 – 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.