What if I told you that there was something simple you could do to extend your life by a few years?  You’d do it, right?  Like if I told you that gum chewing could extend your life by two years, you’d be chomping down on pack after pack of Trident.  Or if I told you that avoiding cucumbers would help you live an extra four years, I get a strong feeling that you’d be consuming your salads sans gourds.  (Did you know that a cucumber is a gourd?  Well, now you know.)

Things get a little more complicated when I ask you to take up something you don’t really love or give up something you enjoy.  Like if I told you that crawling around on your knees would extend your life by two years, you may crawl around for a while but then decide that the strain on your knees isn’t worth the extra time on earth.  Likewise, if I told you to give up chocolate, you may make a case for why losing a few precious moments of life is worth it for a good bar of Cadbury.

Well, guess what?  Worrying is going to make me live an extra thousand years.

Okay, maybe not one thousand years (I didn’t find an actual number in the article), but it is going to make me live longer.  Because I am an exceptional worrier.  So if worrying itself is life-extending, then my brand of worrying which amps up regular worrying to astronomical levels is going to net me decades if not centuries.

According to the article, “researchers found that higher scores on the worried-vulnerable questions were ‘associated with a significantly reduced risk of death from all causes’.”  Worried-vulnerable neurotics were “identified by their response to such questions as ‘Do you worry too long after an embarrassing experience?’ and ‘Are your feelings easily hurt’?”  Yes and yes.  And whatever the next question is, yes to that, too.

Worriers unite!

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

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If you are not doing anything for today’s eclipse, don’t despair.  You get another chance on April 8, 2024.  That’s only seven years away.

It’s traveling through places that I would go to even if there wasn’t an eclipse, such as Montreal or Newfoundland.  But it’s also going to be much closer to home, passing through sections of Pennsylvania and New York.

It helps me to feel okay with missing out on something knowing that it will happen again in the future and I’ll get a second chance to do it right.  I know that’s pretty optimistic believing the world will still be here seven years from now.  But crossing fingers, right?

Do second chances help you to feel okay about missing out on something the first 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 that are connected to businesses or are sponsored post.

There was a partial eclipse back in college that I somehow missed hearing about until it was happening.  I stepped out of the Humanities building and it was dark even though it was the middle of the day.  I knew enough not to look directly at the sun (okay, I probably didn’t know enough but I’m sure a smarter student shouted that out), and we sort of just walked home, not thinking too deeply that we were witnessing a moment in history.

We decided not to travel to the totality zone for tomorrow’s eclipse.  The closest spot is far enough away that we had to weigh out how much it meant to us to see it.  Instead we’ll remain in the partial zone, tossing on our eclipse glasses in the afternoon so we can stare directly at the sun.

Do I want to see a total eclipse?  Sure.  Do I want to see a total eclipse enough that I would be totally okay if we traveled to South Carolina and missed the eclipse because it was cloudy and raining but we got to spend time with other eclipse enthusiasts?  Nope.  Asking myself that helped me to put into perspective what I was willing to do to witness a total eclipse, and it wasn’t drive 8 hours.

Still social media (and, to be fair, the regular media) has a way of fomenting FOMO over these sorts of things.  It’s as if Twitter is collectively asking in the most incredulous tone, “What do you mean you gave up the chance to see the totality?”  And Facebook is rubbing it in your face: “Look at me!  I am loving on this eclipse so hard!”  And Instagram is like, “Look at these aspirational eclipse glasses that I made out of recycled pallets and mason jars.”

So I’m trying to be okay with it tomorrow.  I’ll see what I can see.

Are you doing anything for the eclipse?  Are you in the totality zone?

ChickieNob started a blog a few months ago, giving commentary on royal family news.

Any time I see something interesting about a royal family, I pass it her way.  (And she usually rolls her eyes and says, “I already knew that.”)  One morning this week, I saw a picture of Denmark’s Prince Vincent, clearly upset on his first day of school, and I sent it her way.  She had already written about the Danish royal twins going to school the day before, but I told her that it was worth writing a second post; a public letter to Prince Vincent.  Maybe he would read it.  I was sure she had some advice to pass his way as an elementary school graduate and fellow worrier about going to school.

When I read it, my heart exploded.  Not just because she told him about our necklace trick (we’ve since graduated to matching typewriter key necklaces), but because kids comforting kids makes my heart melt.  She knocked it out of the park with the post.

So if you know someone who is struggling with a new beginning, maybe her words would help.

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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:

• “Crystal Ball” (Andmom)
• “Long Winded Musings Around the Whole Infertility/Babyloss Journey” (It’s Inconceivable)

Okay, now my choices this week.

Jewish IVF has a post that moves like a roller coaster, ultimately moving through the heart dropping, is-the-world-going-to-hell moments to the soft hush of the ride coming to a stop.  Yes, it’s tied up in her next IVF cycle, but I love this ending: “I said I literally live a few houses down but thanked her for stopping. It was such a nice gesture. Maybe the world isn’t all complete garbage. Kindness goes a long way – she didn’t even do anything, just the offer was enough to cheer me up.”

Pages, Stages, and Rages said what I have been saying since news broke about Charlottesville: no one should be surprised.  This did not come out of nowhere.  As she writes: “Now look, I’m for blaming Trump for anything but people aren’t getting this. Trump is now in the Oval Office because of people like this.”  It is a wonderful post about not shutting people out or shutting down.  Just moving forward because it’s the only direction to go.

Lastly, Lavender Luz has a post about adoption called “Everybody Owns a Scar.”  She turned her blog over to a guest writer who told a story about her relationship with her children’s birthmother.  I’ll admit that I cried reading this.  But make your way all the way to the end.  You’ll be glad you did.

The roundup to the Roundup: ChickieNob wrote a great post.  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 11th and 18th) 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.

Some people are excellent with boundaries.  They take on only what they know they can do without making themselves miserable.  They don’t feel guilt when they can’t volunteer.  They say “yes” when they can, but they have no compunction about saying “no.”

I am not one of those people.

I am terrible at setting and enforcing boundaries.  People make assumptions about what I’m willing to do and rather than correct those assumptions, I go along with them.  I say “yes” even when I know that saying “yes” means that I will give up sleep.  I am the type of person who boldly declares that I’m about to start setting boundaries, and then doesn’t set them.

I want to say “no” but it comes out more like “nuuuuuuuuuuh” and then the other person assumes that guttural moan was a “yes.”  Not their fault; I need to learn how to enunciate and mean it.

Cheryl Strayed gave advice recently to someone who described themselves as a recovering “yes” addict who has found that people are cranky with her newfound “no” (which is probably my fear — that people will be miffed if I say “no.”):

I know many men struggle to say no, but there’s another layer of complexity for women. We’re culturally conditioned to be the nurturing ones, and there’s also a smaller field we get to move in when it comes to what’s considered selfish. Women are accused of being selfish for acts and qualities we deem perfectly fine in men. I’d say that’s where at least some of your guilt comes from, Ghost. When I’m feeling guilty about saying no, it helps me enormously to ask myself, “What are my intentions?” Answering that is so clarifying and calming to me.

The problem, of course, is that if I’m honest about my intentions, it’s just to get back a little down time.  It’s to get in some book reading and video game playing.  I’m not saying “no” in order to make room in my schedule for saving ducklings.  I’m making room in my schedule to jump over virtual mud puddles as Pitfall Harry.  And this is my right: we are all entitled to down time, and we get to use that down time however we choose.  But it does complicate the “no” when I think about the instead.

Some people achieve that sweet spot between yes and no, and for whatever reason, they never deal with the ire that the woman in the article expressed once she started saying “no.”  I’m not talking about the guilt — I think there are many people who feel zero seconds of guilt over saying “no.”  What I’m talking about is the people who don’t attract any ire over their “no.”  They say “no” and everyone accepts it without a second thought.

That is what I want to understand more than the lack of guilt over saying “no” in the first place.