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

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Back when we were little, my grandparents would take us to the A&P and buy us Dynamints and Fruit Stripe gum.  Dynamints were suppository-sized Tic Tacs that came in a three-flavour pack: grape (which was the best flavour), orange, and cherry.  Not only were they a delicious candy, but it was fun to shake the box and annoy everyone around you.

I really miss Dynamints.  I don’t think they make them anymore.

I’m also missing root beer flavoured and Stick-o-Pep Lifesavers.

What candy or former food product do you miss?

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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 posts.

So I’m cleaning out my bookmarks and dumping them on you, one by one, probably on Sundays.  If you’re playing along on your own blog, leave a comment with a link to your post in the comment section below.  I’ll scoop those up and post them as a “second helping” at the bottom of my post next week so that your post gets another round of eyes.

The 1500’s version of Facebook was called alba amicorum.  They were books that people passed around when they were hanging out with other people, and they would jot down thoughts in the pages.  Mental Floss writes,

They would draw in each other’s books, share secrets, scribble inside jokes, and gossip about their romantic prospects. As a result of being passed around from friend to friend, these books tend to be a little more cluttered and a little less photogenic than the neatly organized recommendation books men created.

Oh, the men got to fill their books with recommendations from people they met on their travels, sort of like LinkedIn.  Women were left to giggle about song lyrics.

On one hand, there’s no delete button when you’re writing in ink, and if you cut a chunk out of your book, everyone would know.  But on the other hand, you don’t have to worry about people continuously dredging up old pages of your book if you never bring it out again.  You really own it, whereas I don’t feel like I truly own the words I write on Facebook.  I just sort of set them there, and they sit there.  Like a lump.

I really love this idea.  Not the fact that people apparently used it as a measure of popularity, but the idea of women in the 1500’s lounging around, writing witty things in each other’s alba amicorums.  Or the idea of spending an afternoon looking back at your book.  Or really, just the act of schlepping this leather-bound book with you to a party so people could jot down things on the page.

If you gave me a choice between the offline or online version of social media, I’d take the offline one, hands down.  Sure, Facebook is easy, but it also leads to so many hurt feelings or confusion or frustration.  Most of the time, people write on their own wall, informing others of things.  This is very different from someone writing on your wall and giving you the enjoyment that comes with listening.

Plus it reminds me of things like playing MASH on the school bus when we were little.  Do you remember MASH where you learned whether you’d live in a mansion, apartment, shack, or house?  And whom you would marry?  And how many kids you’d have?  And your job?

What about you?  Would you rather have an offline or online version of social media?

I started logging my meals again.  Sigh.  I lost a decent amount of weight a few years ago and maintained it by writing down everything I ate.  I wasn’t precise about it; I didn’t keep track of every stray crumb.  But I measured out my portions and when I hit my caloric budget for the day, I put down the fork.  I’m a rules follower.

I got more and more lax about writing stuff down and measuring things out, and over the years, the weight has crept back on.  Not all of it but maybe half of it.  And I can feel it.  I remember how I felt when I wasn’t carrying this extra weight, and I know how I feel now.  So it’s back to writing everything down.

It is amazing how small amounts of food contain so many calories.

I don’t want to do anything unsustainable since weight creeps back on once you stop doing the unsustainable thing.  But I also don’t know any other way to hold myself accountable.  To set some limits.  To remind myself that I really don’t need that cookie.

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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. (Well, two weeks ago.)  In order to read the description before clicking over, please return to the open thread:

• “Grateful” (Searching for Our Silver Lining)
• “How to Limit Looking at Your Phone” (Stirrup Queens) — thanks, Ana!
• “7 New Year’s Resolutions for the Fertility Challenged” (Recombine)

Okay, now my choices this week.

Notes from the Ninth Circle has a post about trying to connect with other people and falling short.  She captures that mood so well, when you want to talk to someone and yet no one feels right.  She explains her lack of impulse to reach out comes from a belief that,  “I don’t have to risk bothering anyone, nor do I have to find other things to talk about to avoid bothering them with what’s really upsetting me.”  And it circles back to needing your blog.  It’s a great post.

Twangy Pearl the Elastic Girl has a post about waiting to hear the thoughts of a birth mother.  The words feel like pacing, like waiting, like double checking that everything is sort of in place in case the call comes.  Again, I think she captured a moment so well.

Anabegins has a totally fascinating post about frugality.  She writes: “The people spending $400/month to feed their family may have some mad skillz (and probably a lot of time to coupon/shop around), but they are not inherently better people than the ones spending $1200.”  I like her whole argument about the level in which we value things.  It’s not only an interesting post, but there is a good conversation taking place in the comment section.

Lastly, Persnickety Chickadee has a post about the habits of unhappy people.  I looked down the list and realized I did a few of these things, especially the one that she highlighted: waiting for the future.  It’s an interesting idea: that you could change your happiness level by remaining in the same situation but changing the way you view it.  Not sure, but it’s food for thought.

The roundup to the Roundup: Tracking what I eat.  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 8th and 15th) 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 was standing in my bedroom this morning when I read that Alan Rickman died.  My first thought was that it had been a good move to purchase digital copies of all the Harry Potter films even though we had DVD versions of the same movie because, yes, there are times when you need to access a Harry Potter film from your phone.

There are times when you need to rewatch the magnificent humanity Alan Rickman brought to a difficult character.  There are times when you need to remind yourself how lucky you are that the casting agent got this role so right.  There are times when you need to sit down and watch three minutes of a film and feel whatever you’re going to feel knowing that someone — even someone you didn’t know at all — is gone.

Thank you, Mr. Rickman, for filling up the role of Severus Snape so completely that you spilled over the top and got under all of our skin.  You will be missed.

Image: Marie-Lan Nguyen via Flickr

Sometimes I’m too stupid to exist.

A month or two ago, I pulled up into a carpool line and turned off the car to read a book.  Oh, I should probably mention that I was near the front of the line, just to let you know how annoying I’m about to become in this story.  So the moment comes for the kids to be released, and I go to turn on the car and the battery is dead.  I was reading my book for twenty minutes with the car off but the headlights on.

Everyone’s favourite person.

There was a wonderful woman who ran over with a jumper cable power pack, and she got my car working again with only minimal honking behind me.  I drove around town for a while and then headed home feeling a little sheepish.

Fast forward to this week.

We get to the twins’ art school early, and we decide to sit in the car while I read them Hunger Games.  I am totally in character, doing a very passionate Katniss speech when I glance up and realized I HAVE LEFT MY LIGHTS ON AGAIN.

For the love.

After begging around the school for help and finding no one with jumper cables, I call AAA who comes to save my ass.  The man gives me a look as he walks up to my car as if he, too, agrees that I am too stupid to live.  I smile and say, “I may have left on my lights, BUT I also backed into the space which makes it really easy to get into the hood.”  This, apparently, does not redeem me.

You may be wondering when the squirrels are going to make an appearance in this story.  You know, those squirrels who have mad, passionate sex in my backyard?  Yes, those squirrels.

So we pop the hood and the man says, “What did you do here?”

Here?  Where?

I lean over to see what he is looking at and see that the SQUIRRELS HAVE EATEN MY CAR.  As in they have chewed a child’s fist-sized hole underneath the hood of the car.  The man can’t stop laughing, especially because the squirrels left behind a few acorns as payment.  He tells me to patch it up with putty.  I tell him that I’m actually going to close it with waterproof tape, and he promises me that waterproof tape doesn’t exist.

And here is where we need to pause for a second.  I own waterproof tape.  I use it to tape my silkscreens.  I have been using it since I started printmaking at 15.  I feel pretty secure in its existence.  Not just because I’ve used it before, but because I currently own an enormous roll of it.

When I went to buy it at Home Depot, every man I encountered (3 of them!) promised me that waterproof tape didn’t exist.  Yes, it does, I told them, and they gave me this patronizing smile and told me that it was cute that I thought tape could get wet.  When I finally got myself a roll of waterproof tape, I wanted to drive back to the store and shove it in all of their faces and scream, “I’M RIGHT, ASSHOLES!”

But I didn’t.  Because I’m a woman and I have better things to do than educate men.

So back to my squirrel-ravaged car: I start to explain to the man that, yes, waterproof tape exists and while it’s usually used to protect wood frames in printmaking, I’ve also used it many other times — even once on a sink where it got wet dozens of times a day and continued to work for years.  And he wanted to argue with me about this, so I just smiled and said, “Sure, I’ll use putty.  Thanks for the suggestion.”

Because I’m a woman and I have better things to do than educate men.

Like I have to go write myself a post-it note and leave it in the car so I remember to turn off my lights.  And then I have to go talk to a few squirrels.