I received a Google Home at a conference.  It currently lives — unplugged — in a closet.  I am aware that it can only do its job, providing me with billions of facts in seconds, if I attach it to an outlet.  That is not going to happen.

I have no problem with my current level of convenience.  I have a machine that will wash my dishes if I place them inside.  A machine that washes and dries my clothes.  I even have a tiny machine that can boil a cup of water in a minute or so, helping me make tea.  All of these machines require a human present for at least one step.  I see zero reason to gain something new to manage just to have the ability to set something to run from afar.

Part of it is privacy concerns.  Part of it is just not wanting one more thing to think about.  Articles like that highlight the fact that home-based machines are still a far-cry from Jetson levels of convenience.  Though it’s interesting that George Jetson never wondered aloud to Jane about the vast quantities of data their futuristic home was sending along to massive corporations…

I don’t want a smart home.  Though I feel like I keep getting nudged in that direction whenever we need to replace an object.  Why won’t the companies allow me to live a simple life?  And why won’t the damn kids stop playing on my lawn?

Do you have smart products in your home?

I am gently easing myself back into my schedule, by which I mean that I am kicking and screaming about returning to normal life.  I don’t do well with breaks.  I love them, but re-entry is hard.  My skull feels like it has been stuffed with cotton balls.  I am distracted.  I want to crawl back into bed and read my vampire book.  (Discovery of Witches… it feels a little bit like Twilight.)

The one thing I do love is my new 15 minute ritual.  I’ve been using it to read Solve for Happy by Mo Gawdat.  I bought this book a year ago, and I’ve read the first 20 pages or so several times.  But this time I’m going to plow my way through to the end.  I’m going to emerge out the other side a calmer, focused person.  I think.  If not, it’s on to the next book.

How are you doing with re-entry?

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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:

• “Becoming a Chester” (video)

Okay, now my choices this week.

The Road Less Travelled has a year-end review post.  A few people created one this week, and I love these look-backs on the year.  She pulled out her favourite/noteworthy posts and put them together in a roundup.  Everyone who writes a blog has a few best posts from the year.  What are yours?  P.S. I wish we still did the Creme.

Searching for Our Silver Lining has a post about tafoni.  First and foremost, I love this line: “I found myself becoming more of an observant of life instead of a participant.”  It’s a post about looking for signs from the universe and thinking ahead on the upcoming year.

Lastly, Too Many Fish to Fry has a post about the dangers of authenticity.  She explains, “But, getting validation simply for expressing hardships can be a bad thing. This post sums up an interesting technique the author has noticed certain writers use — it’s called the ‘failure formula’.”  She’s making a distinction where authenticity is tied to complaining or expressing something negative (though you can be completely authentic and expressing the positive if you happen to be an optimistic person).  It’s an interesting take on venting.

The roundup to the Roundup: Back to the daily grind.  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 December 21st and January 4th) 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.

We’re back from Disney, and I’m here to report that Disney with teens is veeeeeeery different from Disney with little kids, and it is like 1000 times better.

We made the choice to go to Disney for Christmas without really thinking about the crowds at Disney for Christmas.  It was similar to last year when we made plans to go to Montreal in winter, and after the plane landed and was taxiing on the runway that I exclaimed, “Oh my G-d, I’ve never been to Montreal in winter.  Isn’t it going to be super cold?”  Yes, it was super cold.

But in both cases, it was also a really good time and we’re back and feeling pretty down that we’re not going to go on Soarin’ or It’s a Small World today.

Unlike the first time we went when they thought they were meeting the real Snow White, and the second time we went when they wanted to believe they were meeting the real Snow White, this time we were able to trim out the long wait times to see Snow White.  They happily called out hello when they spotted a character, but felt zero need to wait 50 minutes in a line with crying children to snap a picture.  I offered them a character breakfast before we went, and the Wolvog smiled wistfully at me and said gently, “Um… mum… you do know that we know that it’s just a person in a costume… right?”  Yes, smart ass.

We did five days in the parks — 14 hours to 17 hours every day.  Tack on an hour to get ready and get there in the morning and another hour to get back and get to bed in the evening, and we kept going for 16 hours to 19 hours EVERY SINGLE DAY.  We were delirious by the last day.  We came home and slept 14 straight hours the first day home.  That’s what you can do when you go to Disney with teens.  No meltdowns.  No crying fits.  No begging for stuffed animals or another snack.  Yes, we all whined that our feet and back hurt, but Josh and I whined just as much as the kids.  What it came down to is that all four of us were on the same team, and this team was solely focused on getting on rides.  One goal.  All of us with the same goal.  We were like an amusement park machine.

We brought breakfast and lunch with us so we wouldn’t have to slow down.  (If you haven’t picked up on the fact that we do amusement parks like it is our job, you’ve missed the point.)  We made reservations for dinner so we could time walking off a ride a second before we needed to be seated.  We filled our water bottles whenever possible.  We snacked on nuts while we stood in line so we had extra protein.  We were glorious!  We were victorious!

So here are the stories:

Wistfulness

I loved going to Disney when they were little because they were so wrapped up in the magic, but I didn’t realize that the place would make them miss their babyhoods, too.  They asked to begin and end with It’s a Small World since that is the ride we began and ended with the last two trips.

It’s not that the magic wasn’t still there — I made a new wish on It’s a Small World because all the wishes I’ve made at Disney so far have come true.  I love Disney because of its sameness; because it made me remember my own childhood as much as it made me remember the twins’ childhood.  There’s a smell to the park; the mix of sweetness and rain (it always smells like summer rain in the parks).  And as we breathed it in, we kept retelling stories from old trips.

We talked about our childhood as much as we talked about their childhood.  I told them about the best mints I ever ate.  They came from a candy store on Main Street — no longer sold, we checked — that my parents bought me at the beginning of the day as I entered the park.  They were tiny pink, white, and green balls; impossibly small French mints that came in a tiny circular tin.  (Like these, but tiny tiny tiny.)  I told them about how Winnie the Pooh was once-upon-a-time Mr. Toad’s Wild Ride.  If You Had Wings became Buzz Lightyear and 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea became Under the Sea – Journey of the Little Mermaid.  Haunted Mansion is my favourite ride, but I told them about how my parents had to bribe me to ride it the first time (because I was too scared) by buying me fake fangs.  I loved those fangs, and I used to lie in bed and read a book with those fangs in my mouth.

Disney is both easy and hard because you are always around babies.  On one hand, there is a gleefulness to the ease in which we now move, unencumbered by diaper bags and nap times.  We looked at people schlepping around babies and felt thankful that we had it so easy.  Disney is a lot more enjoyable when you don’t have to worry about timing meals or bedtimes.  But every time you step to the front of the queue, they ask you how many in your party so they can seat you together.  Sometimes I was happy to say four.  Other times, I was sad that I couldn’t say five.

Leave Without Regrets

We told them our only goal was to leave each park with zero regrets.  So, yes, I did have to bribe a child to go on one ride (because I could tell they were struggling with their fears and needed a reason to push themselves.  They were so glad they did), and I had to push MYSELF to go on the Frozen ride the first time.  I knew there were drops, but I didn’t know when the drops happened.  I was so anxious while waiting in line that I heard a little girl ask her dad, “Should I be scared, too?”  I had to bend down and explain to the girl that I am a very nervous adult and that there was nothing wrong with the ride.  Extra embarrassing moment was when the dad pointed out that a service dog went on the ride without trouble.  But I pushed myself to get on and was so proud of myself afterward.  I threw up my hands and sang along (and, admittedly, burst into tears because it was such a release) when Elsa sang, “Let it Go” and you’re dropping backwards.  We went on two more times after that.

After we went on our last ride of the vacation, the kids looked like they were struggling with the sadness, so I asked if we should just go on again.  They were so relieved that their last ride turned out to not be their last ride, and they ended up feeling like they could walk out of the park feeling completely full.

Broken Rides

There were a lot of broken rides.  Like A LOT of broken rides.  The only ride that broke while we were on it was Figment at Epcot.  It was trippy to get walked off the broken ride — such a cool experience.  But we noticed that two or three rides broke in each park each day.

We started taking our breaks at broken rides.  We found that most went back up within an hour, and if we read our books where the queue would start, we’d be the first in line when it reopened.  We did this with Spaceship Earth (45 minute wait) and Under the Sea (half hour wait).  In the case of Ariel, we were able to ride it two times in a row because the line was so short.  After that, the wait time was back up to 70 minutes.  So we rode it twice, with what amounted to a 15 minute wait each time.

I’m sure it doesn’t always work out for people, but we found taking our breaks at broken rides to be a great way to make the waits shorter.

Best and Worst

The parks have always held the best and worst of humanity.  There are the great conversations with strangers in line, and you also have people who push or snarl or skip the lines.  We saw people jump into the Fast Pass queue after they passed the Fast Pass checkpoint.  We saw parents smacking their kids, ignoring their kids, yelling at their kids.

But for the first time, we encountered the best and worst of employees.  We had one amazing experience — big shoutout to Ben from Greenville, South Carolina.  It was so amazing that we called guest services afterward to tell them about Ben and say thank you again.  My glasses broke at the Animal Kingdom.  I had prescription sunglasses with me, but I was going to be without regular glasses once it got dark.  We had to leave the park and go back to the hotel to get my backup glasses, which meant giving up our Fast Pass to Festival of the Lion King AND missing out on the safari because the wait time was so long.  We were sad but realistic.  But when we told Ben from Greenville, South Carolina about our situation, he let us walk onto the safari ride so we could see the animals before it got dark.  We were able to leave the park after and come back to wait in the safari line (two hours) and do the safari a second time in the dark.  It changed our whole day.

But we also encountered the meanest woman when we were waiting for Spaceship Earth.  She hated that we were taking our break near the queue.  She kept coming back to us to repeat over and over again that we were wasting our day.  That the ride wouldn’t open up for four or more hours.  No matter how many times we calmly told her we were aware and we were going to take a break anyway, she would interrupt us and tell us that we were making a terrible decision.  Even after she knew the ride was opening, she was still telling people that it would be closed for hours.  She seemed so angry when she had to let us on and she refused to acknowledge us when we thanked her as we got onto the ride.  I have zero clue why it mattered to her.

Put Down the Damn Phone

There were smartphones the last time we were there, but they weren’t a huge problem.  This time, they were.  People would stare at their phone in line, not paying attention to the fact that the line was moving.  They would walk into you in the park because they were staring at their screen.  They filmed themselves on the ride, knocking into you in order to take the best shot.  They played on their phone DURING the ride, ruining the dark rides such as Haunted Mansion.  There were so many parents who stared at their phone during the waiting times while their children ran into other people.  We saw one parent lose her child who wandered away while she was reading Facebook.  We waited behind another parent who scrolled through recipes for 90 minutes while her child stood there, silently.  It was really sad.

Creepy

Disney is sometimes beyond creepy.  You know you’re being tracked at all times, but they also never let you forget that fact when they would do things like put up your name at the end of a ride (“Goodbye, Melissa!”).  Or I received a survey while we were at the park and one of the questions was whether they could add my answers to my file.  Um… why do they have a file on me?

Magical Moments

And then, just when you feel done, when you are beyond annoyed by the children who run straight into you or the long lines or the big crowds, something magical happens.

It starts snowing as you walk down Main Street.  Or “When You Wish Upon a Star” comes on at the right moment.  And you cry as you walk out of the park because regardless of the small bumps, it is all so good.  It so good and you shared it together and you never want it to end.

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

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I’ve already told you my resolutions.  It’s really simple and open, so I know I can stick to it: spend 15 minutes every week day doing something that will make me a better human or worker.  That comes out to 3,750 minutes per year, or about 62.5 hours.  It can be anything I want: reading a book, practicing a skill, decompressing.

Starting tomorrow, I’m going to do it (most of the time) first thing in the morning, before I begin work, so I can start the day feeling productive.  I’m adding a two-page monthly spread to my bullet journal so I can track what I do (for instance, read pages 34 – 53 in X book) and look back at it at the end of the year.  Simple.  Do-able.  And I’m finding the time to do this by trimming down on mindless scrolling that always leaves me feeling empty.  Win-win.

What is your resolution?  Or feel free to join mine.  There are a few of us on a listserv so we can share ideas.

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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.

I read something in Wangs vs. the World by Jade Chang that I’ve been turning over my mind ever since.  Towards the end, on page 336, she writes,

The people of the world could be divided into two groups: those who used all of their chances, and those who stood still through opportunity after opportunity, waiting for a moment that would never be perfect.

I hope that I am in the first category.  I know I sometimes become immobilized if I let myself go through too many what ifs, but, overall, I am a try-and-try-and-try-again kind of woman.  I am a sure-why-not kind of woman.  I am a you-need-to-ask-for-what-you-want sort of woman.  Go for it.  Just do it.  All the slogans.

So that’s how I feel, internally.

Externally, I think some people would place me in the first category — mostly because I took the chance they offered — and some people would place me in the second category because I rejected their chance.  Or some people would put me in the first category based on the chances they’ve seen me take, never knowing the ones I gave up, and other people would put me in the second category based on the times they took advantage of an opportunity and didn’t see me do the same.

I loved the words when I first read them, but the more I thought about it, the more it didn’t make sense to divide the world into chance takers or the non-chance takers unless the only measure was internal.

But to that end, not all chances are worth taking.  There are plenty of opportunities that come my way that don’t seem worth the bird in the hand even if the two unknown birds in the bush may never be caught.

There’s a difference between complete inaction — I can’t think of many people who fit that description — and reality: so much of life is about making choices without knowing what you’re giving up.  Something that seems like a great opportunity at the time may pale in retrospect when you see all the roads you now can’t take because you’re committed to the first one.  And once you learn that, you start making decisions carefully, knowing that saying yes to one thing means saying no to another.

In the end, the quote became words I underlined, words I transferred to my bullet journal, thinking they would goad me to action if I ever stopped being myself.  But upon deeper thought, didn’t make sense when I thought about them for too long.

What is your reaction?