I got nominated for my first Liebster Award.  I’ve seen this on a bunch of blogs, but I’ve never been picked. (Unless you count the times someone says, “I don’t know who to tag.  If you’re reading this, you’re tagged.”)  But this week, Em-i-lis picked me.  ME!

So thank you, Em-i-lis!

And I apologize if you did pick me, and I have completely blanked on that experience.

These are her questions and my answers:

What is your favorite nickname, bestowed by another or self-inflicted?

I was called Mickey back in middle school/high school.  And I really loved that nickname because the cutest boy in Hebrew school gave it to me.  That really cute boy didn’t age very well.  I am basing that on a Google search I just did.  I’m now highly disappointed.  But he was really cute when we were twelve.

With whom would you most like to have dinner (that you’ve not yet)?

I have a long lost family member that I connected with due to the family tree I’m making, and I would love to fly out to the West Coast and meet her.

Why do you blog?

Mostly because Josh would like other people to help carry the burden of listening to my thoughts.  Since I started blogging, I have mostly stopped bringing up huge topics at midnight when he’s trying to fall asleep.

What’s your favorite way to spend an afternoon?

Reading on the sofa next to Truman’s cage.  With hot chocolate.  And fuzzy socks.

What have you learned about yourself and/or your interests via blogging/writing?

I learned what it feels like to belong.  To fit somewhere.  For so much of my life, I didn’t have a place I fit.  And then I found writing and it was like slipping into an almost finished puzzle.  Then I would forget how I fit in writing and struggle in other places.  But every time I returned to writing, I would think, “oh yes!  I belong here.”

Let’s break for an easy one: Sweet or salty?

Sweet.  All the way.

Off the top of your mind, what are your favorite three books that aren’t your own (for you pubbed authors)?

• Harry Potter heptalogy (I know it is cheating to put 7 books but I need to break the rules)
• The Phantom Tollbooth
• Handmaid’s Tale

What’s some of the best advice you’ve ever received?

Always shit before making a big decision.  Or… maybe less disgustingly, make decisions on a relaxed body.  Before you hit send, before you make up your mind, before you take any steps that are no-going-back points, make sure that nothing physical is goading you to make up your mind faster than you wish.  Also, Carla Cohen’s advice to “just wing it.”

If you love to cook, what’s your favorite utensil? If you hate to cook, what’s your favorite dish prepared by others?

A solid spatula.  Like a pancake turner?  I use it for stirring, all the time.

What’s one of your favorite destinations (you could have gone once or many times)?

We go to Chincoteague a lot, so that’s up there as a favourite destination.  But I equally have a lot of love for the Book Mill in Montague, MA.

Who am I tagging?

• Loribeth from The Road Less Traveled
• Luna from Life from Here
• Justine from A Half Baked Life
• Lori from Lavender Luz
• Karen from River Run Dry

Consider yourself lucky that you were the first five people who popped into my brain!

Your questions:

1. Longest you’ve ever gone without a shower.
2. Tell us about a recent disappointment.
3. Tell us the person you’d most like in the car with you for a road trip.
4. Which do you like better: goats or sheep?
5. Do you like to watch scary movies?
6. What do you call yourself when you’re talking to yourself inside your head?
7. Name someone from your kindergarten class that you wonder about to this day.
8. What is the best song for picking up your mood?
9. How do you organize your socks?
10. When no one is home, do you close the bathroom door?

Everyone else, feel free to answer these too.  By the way, Josh contributed #9 and #10.

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Thank you for weighing in about the Creme de la Creme.  Sounds like there is a critical mass of people so… onward!  The list will open for submissions on the 15th next week.

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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:

• “I Didn’t Make it Into the Newspaper” (Little Chicken Nuggets)
• “I Took a Walk” (Too Many Fish to Fry)

Okay, now my choices this week.

Wordgirl’s “Self Contained” is a post that I read a bit late, but I’m including it this week because it blew my mind.  You will cry reading it.  You will probably recognize something of yourself within it.  It was simply the most beautiful thing I’ve read in a while.

Misfit Mrs. also had a post about an anniversary that I was late to read that really belonged in last week’s roundup.  Can you tell that I’m behind on my reader?  Read it for that ending: “I feel like the patron saint of improbable, though. Or at least I owe a small corner of my home to building an alter to that currently undetermined saint. The savior of lost causes, the champion of losers, or the queens of epic failures are all in my court.”  But really, the entire thing is just lovely.

And the Vial Makes Three has a post about which one will carry the child that made me laugh.  It was, by far, amongst some actual heartfelt content, the best use of hashtags ever: “I am delighted to celebrate vicariously with these wonderful women, but (in all honesty) it makes me jealous. I know when it does happen for us it’s gonna be swell… it’ll be great… we’re gonna have the whole world on a plate.  #musicaltheaterref #merman #gaybies.”

Lastly, Andmom has a post about the word “just” — a word I’m guilty of using in a post this week.  It’s about needing more than and less than, and trying to fit into a system that is clearly not designed with her child in mind.  The frustration comes through every word of the post, and I hope that they find a solution that works.

The roundup to the Roundup: Get to know me… and I’d like to get to know you.  Eighth Creme de la Creme is starting next week.  And lots of great posts to read.  So what did you find this week?  Please use a permalink to the blog post (written between October 4th and October 11th) 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.

There was a post recently on BlogHer about the concept of peanut-free spaces such as schools declaring themselves peanut-free and asking kids not to bring peanuts into the school in order to protect those with allergies.  There were those who either had a child with a peanut allergy or had a peanut allergy themselves, and they were grateful to spaces that ban peanuts.  There were those who said that peanut butter was all they would eat and that these rules unfairly impacted them.

And there were those who voiced a much more rational reason NOT to ban peanuts, which is that doing so creates a false sense of security.  That schools can’t perfectly police children’s lunches, but the policy may make some people lower their guard.  The reality is that vigilance is always needed in the face of a life-threatening allergy, even when rules are put into place.

And then there were the vast majority of us in the middle who said that while we don’t have a peanut allergy in our family, if that’s the rule in the school, that’s the rule we’ll follow.  Since it is a matter of life-or-death for another person, and for us, it’s just lunch.  Really, it’s just lunch.  We can eat all the peanut butter we want with breakfast or dinner.

Image: Martin L via Flickr

No one wants to be told what they can or can’t eat; as a picky eater, believe me, I understand that.  But the same people* who say that they don’t want anyone else’s peanut allergy impacting their lunch choices are the very same people who support a smoking ban in public spaces, pointing out how another person’s choices affect their health.  In other words, don’t smoke around me because you could make me sick, but I can eat peanuts around you, even if it makes you sick.

The fact is that we have no problem inconveniencing smokers (for good reason) from smoking inside even during a frigid winter day.  A person could make an argument that second-hand smoke harms everyone as opposed to peanuts that harm only those who are severely allergic, but the end result whether only a few people are affected or all people are affected is… death.  Maybe that’s why I’m not bothered by the idea of not eating peanuts if I’m asked not to eat peanuts.  I mean… death is pretty damn serious.  And because we’re talking about serious consequences — you know, like death — I don’t really get why people get up in arms over the idea of being told not to eat peanuts in certain places.

And I write this as a picky, peanut butter loving eater who is the parent of picky, peanut butter loving eaters.  I get how much a person can love a peanut butter and jam sandwich and how difficult it can be to find vegetarian protein sources for a picky eater.  But I still think that possible death trumps my love of peanut butter.  No matter how much I love peanut butter.

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I think what stuns me is the anger people bring to the conversation of making peanut-free spaces.

If the smoking analogy doesn’t do it for you, look at it this way: no one gets up in arms about wearing a seat belt.  At least I’ve never seen a blogger get slammed for asking people to wear a seat belt in order to protect themselves and protect others on the road in the event of a car crash.  There are certainly people who don’t wear seat belts, but I’ve yet to find a non-seat belt wearer who tried to convince others that it was a fantastic idea.  Most people I know who don’t wear seat belts are sheepish about the fact.

We wear seat belts because it makes sense.  Because while it’s an inconvenience, we know the alternative is so damn awful that it’s worth taking the time to strap an uncomfortable seat belt around our body for the duration of the ride in order to not risk going through the windshield.  Sure, we do this for ourselves, but we also do it for everyone else on the road, lest our body becomes projectile.

It’s a small safety precaution we can take to lessen the risk of inadvertently killing another person.

I imagine that navigating the world with a peanut allergy (or any other life-threatening allergy, since peanuts are not the only food that causes anaphylaxis) is akin to driving on the highway where everyone is swerving about, driving recklessly, and you can see through their windows that not one person is wearing a seat belt.  They are oblivious to the fact that you are hunched over your steering wheel, seat belt firmly in place, nervously watching them text-and-drive or eat a messy hamburger while going 70 miles per hour.  You are decent at avoiding their cars, but what you can’t do is help someone crashing into you OR two people crashing into one another and their flying bodies landing on your car hood, causing a catastrophic accident.

I think of all the times I’ve obliviously waved around my peanut butter and jam sandwich while I talk to a friend, not considering how that sandwich is potentially affecting anyone else around me.  I don’t even really think about how I could always develop an allergy to peanuts in adulthood.

But I always wear a seat belt, even without being reminded.  It’s just something I’ve always done.

The reality is that some people — like me — need to see a sign in place reminding us to keep a space peanut-free because it isn’t on our radar; not due to cruelty but because we’ve never had a problem before and therefore we’re not seeing the potential problems our behaviour could cause for others.  So for all the nut allergy sufferers out there (or anyone who has an allergy that can easily be triggered by another human being’s behaviour), I am really sorry.  I am trying to be more mindful when I’m in public.

We go to two different schools: one is nut-free (the entire building) and one has a peanut-free table.  For the nut-free school, I religiously check all wrappers when packing food, but they also make it easy for people by selling nut-free snacks in the lobby that kids can purchase.  For the non-nut-free school, I’m admittedly less careful.  I pack nuts all the time since my child doesn’t sit at the peanut-free table.

The BlogHer post has reminded me that I don’t need to wait for a rule to be passed before I do the behaviour.  There are so many things that we know make sense — not using a cell phone in a car while driving, not texting and driving, putting on a seat belt in a car — we don’t have to wait until there are laws made restricting the behaviour before we engage in that commonsense practice of doing things that keep all of us (not just ourselves) safe.  And we don’t have to wait until a space goes peanut-free or a table sign goes up declaring part of the lunch room off-limits to peanut butter and jam before we start thinking about how the food we eat could also affect the people around us.

The post really made me think about my food choices, and how I’m consuming that food in public.  It’s made me a much neater eater, which is always a good thing.
What is your experience with peanut-free spaces, and do you think one day they’ll be a given in the same way that we’ve banned smoking in public spaces?

* Well, I can’t prove they are all exactly the same people, so it’s an assumption, but I’m going to guess that it’s a fairly accurate assumption.

Image: John Murphy via Flickr

A few weeks ago, I admitted that I didn’t trust the company that made 23andMe due to the terms and conditions attached to their product.  It was a gut decision that I revisited this week when I read about the patent they applied for that they insist they have no plans to use.  Right… because often companies go through lengthy, expensive legal processes for intellectual property they have no desire to put into use.  They write on their site:

At the time 23andMe filed the patent, there was consideration that the technology could have potential applications for fertility clinics so language specific to the fertility treatment process was included in the patent. But much has evolved in that time, including 23andMe’s strategic focus. The company never pursued the concepts discussed in the patent beyond our Family Traits Inheritance Calculator, nor do we have any plans to do so.

I would totally believe them, that they have no plans to use the patent in the way they say they will use the patent, if they didn’t complete the patent process.  But according to the USPTO, a patent is granted after many steps have been completed, including the final step: a payment of the issue fee and publication fee.

• Step 11, USPTO – If objections and rejection of the examiner are overcome, USPTO sends Notice of Allowance and Fee(s) due
• Step 12, Applicant – Applicant pays the issue fee and the publication fee
  • USPTO Grants Patent

In other words, at the end of this long, expensive process, they just invested more money into something they have no intention of using as an asset to make money as a company beyond its current use?  Doesn’t ring true to me.

I actually would have been fine with 23andMe if they had been honest, saying that they have every intention of having fertility clinics use the technology to screen donors.  Then my post would be focusing on the fertility clinics and not the company itself.  But, sorry 23andMe, you now get the ethical weight on YOUR shoulders.

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The patent in question, being debated across a multitude of sites and making the sensitive people of the world crawl into the comment section to write about how all people who use fertility treatments want “designer babies,” gives potential parents (or in this case, donors) information on which physical traits or medical conditions they may pass along to a child.

What the hell do people mean when they throw out the term “designer baby”?  Designer clothing is called as such because it carries the name of a designer.  Who is the designer in the case of the designer baby since there is no person on earth who can fashion a human being from scratch?  And why is it said with such contempt?  A friend used PGD to ensure that her child wasn’t passed a fatal illness; how does that create an uber-baby, somehow different from all other babies who are born without said disease?

I guess I’m not really sure how being able to create more favourable odds for a certain trait to make an appearance or to keep a disease from being passed along to the next generation in a family makes a child “designer.”  I guess I’d like Lydia O’Connor from Huffington Post to explain exactly what she means by a “designer” baby since it isn’t clear from her article, yet she uses it for her opening: “We may be one step closer to designer babies.”

So, Ms. O’Connor, care to explain?

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As 23andMe points out, genetic selection is something that one can do on a small scale simply by using their eyes.  Two tall parents are likely going to produce a tall child.  It’s not a guarantee, but it’s likely.

So we come to our first ethical question: (1) is it okay for a tall woman to purposefully marry a tall man (sorry, a lot of these questions are going to be hetero-focused since we’re talking about unassisted conception) because she wants tall children?

Then we have to take the question a step further: (2) is it okay for a tall woman to purposefully use the sperm of a tall man in creating a donor-assisted child because she wants tall children?

Then we go further still: (3) is it okay for a reproductive endocrinologist to test embryos before transferring them, only putting in ones that have strong potential for height?

Set aside potential height (remember: not guaranteed height) for a moment.  Some people choose their perspective partner because of their family medical history or reject a person due to their family medical history.  While I think we’d like to believe that love conquers all, we also know that many people engage in genetic testing prior to or after marriage, even before they hit the genetic testing that takes place during a pregnancy.  So (4) is that ethical — choosing a partner because they don’t have a history of a genetic illness that runs in your family?

And taking that a step further: (5) is it okay for a couple to use a donor to possibly skirt the passing on of a genetic condition?

And then going further still: (6) is it okay for a reproductive endocrinologist to test embryos before transferring them, and only putting in ones that do not have the increased risk for a genetic illness?

Generally when we talk about this, people say that it’s totally fine to do it in the second case because it’s a matter of life-or-death, imagining the disease at hand to be deadly, such as Tay-Sachs.

But what about something else that has strong genetic ties but isn’t fatal?  Such as an increased cancer risk, when the cancer itself is treatable?  Or mental illnesss?  No one wants their child to suffer, especially if there are ways to circumvent the possibility.  But there’s a reason why this question is such great fodder for ethics classes.  There is no easy answer on where to draw the line.

It’s okay to have a different standard for genetic traits such as height as opposed to life-threatening illnesses, but what we do need to do is define why.  Why are we okay doing everything in our power to avoid an increased risk of cancer, but not doing everything in our power to help the odds of a child being a certain physical trait?  Especially when parents are not asking for the same physical trait; the desired trait is personal to the parent; vs. being imposed by a governmental plan.

Thoughtful family building usually isn’t a crap shoot.  We’ve subconsciously or consciously chosen a partner we believe will be good to procreate with, both for nature as well as nurture.  When we imagine a future child, we super-impose the traits we believe they may inherit, including the ones we’re fearful of them receiving.  So it’s interesting to see the strong reaction and the screams of “designer baby” when we take it a single step further and actually do testing to have stronger proof of the chances.

And I do think that feelings about fertility treatments — especially who the general public believes engages in assisted conception — comes into play in the larger discussion of 23andMe’s patent.

It’s an interesting topic to debate in a mindful manner. (Yes, that was a hint!)

So where are boundaries for you on the ethical questions above?

Everyone who reads this blog regularly knows how I feel about Candy Crush.  It is a passionate love affair that knows few limits.  I am not above calling friends and whispering into the telephone, “pretty please, I’ll cook dinner for you for the rest of the week.  Just give me a ticket to the next level.”  I have reset the clock on the phone to get more lives, paused the game on timed levels in order to think through my moves, and begged for advice.  But now, I am really and truly cheating on Candy Crush.

I’ve started seeing Dots.*

I love it so so much.

Dots is a game very similar to Candy Crush except there is only one level.  And you never need to ask anyone for anything.  And you never run out of lives.  And you can remove dots by connecting just two of them (instead of needing three to clear out the pieces).  The dots cascade down like the candy in Candy Crush, making a square clears all of that colour temporarily off the board, and the game makes a happy noise as you get rid of the dots.  Plus, it doesn’t have that creepy man who oversees Candyville who gives me nightmares.  And you can turn the sound off easily so no one knows that you are obsessively playing Dots.

See? It’s the perfect game.

The game is the electronic equivalent to consuming Doritos.  In the same way that you may look down at the bag and realize that you mindlessly ate 3000 calories worth of artificially-flavoured corn chips, you may end up playing Dots for several hours before you realize that you just missed the entire episode of Saturday Night Live because you were too busy trying to best your score of 206.

But I’m strangely okay with that.

So there are two ways you can play Dots.  You can set a personal goal and keep playing until you reach it, such as “I will best my score” or “I will get over 150 dots.”  You get cute badges for completing certain tasks on the screen, so I’m currently working my way through the badge system and will sometimes tell myself that I can continue playing until I earn a new badge.

Or you can challenge someone else in the room and pass-and-play the same board.  Meaning, you begin with the exact same dots in the exact same order, and from there, each move creates a different path. I am constantly challenging everyone in our house to games of Dots.  For instance, Josh and I played each other this weekend to see who would have to go downstairs and get dessert (I did… I lost big time).

Plus, because you can always play and you don’t need to wait for lives to regenerate, I tend to stay on it much longer than Candy Crush.  It works the exact same part of my brain, searching for moves that will cause the dot I need to cascade into place so I can wipe out a long row of dots or form a square.  It is so relaxing.  Like popping mental bubble wrap.

So I’m cheating on Candy Crush.  It’s not that the Crush is going anywhere; I’m now on Level 241. Believe me, I’m still going strong with the Crush.  But sometimes I need a game that is a little less complicated.  That doesn’t make me jump through hoops.  That keeps the same difficulty for every board, and it’s up to me to find the good moves.  Sometimes I just want a clean white screen, neat rows of dots, and a little less noise.  You know?

* It seems to be for iTunes, Kindle, or Android.  I haven’t seen a place you can play online.

 Image: Compudemano via Flickr

This post will be most amusing to those who have followed the Wolvog’s repulsion of the new operating system.  I wrote the post right before he upgraded.  He is coming around to the new Siri, though he sees her as a completely different electronic friend from the old Siri.  He’s learned that he’s not going to love everything his favourite company creates.  I’m glad he’s keeping his own taste.  It will serve him well when he starts his own electronics and software company.  Yes, he’s already picked out a name, designed his headquarters, and has given me a small amount of stock.

But until then…

I watched the livestream of the last Apple event while the kids were at school, jotting down the details on the new iPhone 5S and C just as much for the Wolvog as for the article I wrote on the new phones.  It was the first thing he asked when he got in the car at school pickup: what was the processing chip, did the new phones have the retina display, how many megapixels in the camera?  He wanted to know everything about iOS7, and he moaned when he found out he had to wait about two weeks before he’d be able to swing by a store and hold these devices in his sweaty little palm.  “Are we getting one?” he asked hopefully.

“Are you kidding me?  Our phones are a year old,” I answered.

“But… they’re not an iPhone 5S.”

He’s right.  Our phones, cutting edge only a year ago are now two generations behind.  Our iPad is pre-Siri.

And to that end, they haven’t just outgrown games; they’ve outgrown gaming systems.

There is always a newer, shinier gadget on the horizon, especially at this time of year when manufacturers want to get your Christmas dollars.  As an adult, it’s hard not to get swept up in believing that you need a new iPhone 5S (or even an iPhone 5C… in blue… since it’s pretty) when you hear all the cool things it can do that your current phone cannot.  As a kid, it’s impossible not to believe that life will be magically different, as wonderful as those adults at Apple make it sound.

For those with a replenishing money tree in their backyard, obtaining every new phone, tablet, computer, and gaming system isn’t a big deal.  For the rest of us, we need to pick and choose what will truly make our life easier and better and weigh that against cost and waste.  And then explain to our kids why we’re not getting a gadget that promises to make them smarter while simultaneously making life happier, brighter, and more fun.

We get new phones when our current phones are on their last legs.  When the battery no longer holds a charge for a whole day.  When the operating system can no longer accept new updates.  When it’s missing more than a few of the time-saving tasks that each new generation of phone brings to its user.  The same goes for our computers: they’re replaced when our old computers cease to work effectively enough to perform the simple tasks we need them to do.  Our iPad will be around until it burns out and dies a painless, gadget death.  And that Wii is going to have to be good enough until it no longer allows us to jog around Wuhu Island.

This isn’t a new phenomenon; kids always wanting the next big thing.  But the next big thing when I was growing up was a new set of Garbage Pail Kids or a new She-Ra action figure.  The items we coveted the most were mostly reasonably priced (with the exception of those Cabbage Patch Kid dolls) and the technology moved at a snail’s pace.  The same gaming system could carry you for years and years without any itch to replace it.  Our telephones were just… telephones.  And while we had a computer growing up, I certainly didn’t know about each incarnation of Apple computer, which came about every few years. (The Apple II sold for 16 straight years with very few changes!)  Beyond that, even if I did know about a new piece of technology, I never expected us to get it.  My parents either brought it home, or they didn’t.  I certainly didn’t care what sort of technology they had.

I think the twins have accepted that we’re not getting the iPhone 5S, nor will we probably get the iPhone 6 whenever that is released.  We may even be able to stretch past the iPhone 7 if the models keep coming in quick succession.  I have relented and said we could go to the Apple store to gawk at the new devices.  I’m sure there will be a lot of coveting and even more hinting (and outright statements) of how much an iPhone 5S could enhance our lives.  And part of me believes the hype too.  Part of me believes that I would be a more organized, more creative, happier person with the latest tool in my hand.

Luckily the part of me that believes that doesn’t have access to my wallet.

Do you covet each new gadget?  How do you decide when to upgrade when the models come at you fast and furious?

cross-posted with GeekDad