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

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I spent my life putting two spaces after every period. One space after a comma, two spaces after a period. Four publishing houses were unable to break me of this habit. I wrote my manuscript with two spaces, then did a search for two spaces throughout the document, and changed them to one space, as per each publishing house’s stylistic rules.

I don’t know what made me change, but a few months ago, I switched to one space. It was hard at first, but now I don’t think about it when I get to the end of the sentence. I just tap the spacebar once and move on to the next thought.

Sometimes I think to myself that I don’t have it in me to change. But I proved myself wrong this year. I went from two spaces to one. Though you won’t get me to change my mind on the Oxford comma.

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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.

Immediately after my grandmother died, I called her number knowing she wouldn’t pick up. I just wanted to dial it one last time before the number was reassigned to someone else. I still keep her contact details on my phone because I like to scroll past her name.

So this article about a woman who emails her dad after he dies resonated with me. She works through her grief by telling him about it: “For months I transcribed the hostile anguish in my head into emails to my father, which I would then seal off with the addition of his email address and save in my drafts folder.” Until the day she accidentally sends one.

And then another. And another. What started as an accident becomes a purposeful action, telling her father’s old email account what is happening in her life. And then she receives a response.

She writes,

I shot the signals of my mourning into space for months, fully expecting them to die unreceived. And when I least expected it, someone sent signals back that said, “You are not the last living witness to the relationship you had with your father.” Our loved ones take so much history with them when they go. The death itself is never the only loss we’re mourning.

It’s really an incredible piece.

Almost 20 years ago, I went on my first date with Josh. The anniversary is coming up this week. But right now, we are in the period of time between when we set up the date and when we actually went on the date; seven long days. Somehow I forgot that fact – how long he made me wait – until this year. I mean, sure, a week doesn’t sound like a long time. But I had a crush on Josh for months prior to setting up that first date. Seven days was a long time to wait.

I bet he’s going to complain when he reads this and say, “But I married you! Isn’t it enough at this point that I married you?”

Yes. But also no. But more yes.

I love Joshua. I am so glad that the universe aligned and brought us together. Happy 20th.

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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.

The Road Less Travelled was prepared to be miffed by a song’s refrain she heard while out and about, but a deeper dive told a different story about the lyrics. As she says, context is everything. Click over to read the story and hear the song.

It’s Inconceivable writes about the power in the word, “No.” Infertility made her feel different from the people around her, and it affected her flexibility. She writes, “I already felt like a square peg in a round hole because my life was so completely different to everyone else, so I pulled out all the stops to fit in with other peoples plans and I’d accommodate everyone else at the drop of a hat.” I love her lists.

Lastly, Inconceivable has a post about the recent PTSD miscarriage study but points out another facet of it that I didn’t notice the first time I read about the study: The sole focus is on peer support. She explains, “There’s very little about better helping women connect with mental health care or how the medical care of these conditions might change.” As she points out, there needs to be more done than just talking to one another.

The roundup to the Roundup: 20 years with Josh. 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 January 24 and January 31) 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.

The perfect first line: “History is full of people who just didn’t.”

And then, “I like no. It’s sidewise to a reverse mantra (om). It’s stealthy, portable, and unslouching.”

Before I read that line, I though of action as better than inaction, doing as better than not doing. But so much can be accomplished — a louder statement sometimes made — when people refuse to participate. When we take a look at all the things we’re not doing and celebrate that inaction. To examine the negative spaces of our day and cheer ourselves on for protecting those inverse, quiet moments.

There is a lot of power in not doing.

So what are you not doing today?

I read a fantastic quote from T.H. White’s Once and Future King, which is the King Arthur story. Arthur comes to Merlyn, disappointed, and Merlyn answers:

The best thing for being sad… is to learn something. That is the only thing that never fails … That is the only thing which the mind can never exhaust, never alienate, never be tortured by, never fear or distrust, and never dream of regretting.

I love that because it’s true. When I’m in a rut or feeling unanchored, overwhelmed, upset, then learning something, finding something new to be passionate about, pulls me out of the feeling.

I can’t think of a single time I’ve sought out information and then regretted learning something new. I mean, sure, I was never thrilled being told what I had to learn in school. But making projects for myself? Choosing my own books? Looking up things that I’m curious about? Zero regrets. 100% feeling at least slightly better.

I have a project for myself right now. And it’s kind of sort of awesome to be learning new things first thing every morning.