The Boiling Frog

I recently read an NPR article about emerging diseases. I’ve shared the link, but I suggest that you not read it unless you’re in the mood for something scary and/or depressing. The thing that interested me particularly, though, and which provided a welcome distraction from the scary/depressing part, was a comment that one of the scientists in the article made. He said something about “boiling the frog.” It seemed such an odd choice of words to me, and it stuck with me.

The next day I mentioned it to my husband, who thought the phrase sounded sort of familiar. He looked it up, and then shared what he found with me. According to Wikipedia, the idea of the Boiling Frog is that if you throw a frog into boiling water it will jump out, but if you slowly raise the temperature you can boil it to death before it realizes the danger. It’s not a happy thought or even true, but it does make a pretty good metaphor!

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Worth Every Penny

Every January I get a memo from my employer telling me that the cost of my long-term disability insurance has gone up. I hate this memo. I don’t want to be reminded of how much I’m already paying, let alone be told that I have to pay more. The insurance was very cheap when I first started on it. Buying it seemed like a no-brainer then. Twenty years later, it’s not cheap anymore. So every January I think that maybe I should drop the insurance.

I haven’t dropped it, though, and I probably never will. I know how this world works. Having kept the insurance for so long, to drop it now would almost certainly bring catastrophe my way. I’d become disabled faster than I could say “Murphy’s Law.” So I figure this insurance is the only thing standing between me and disability. When I look at the cost from this point of view, it’s worth every penny!

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Sleep

I have been deliberately getting more sleep every night. It seems to be paying off. I feel a little less anxious and irritated. Not a ton, thanks to the Internet and its constant reminders of our impending doom. Just a little. But I’ll take what I can get these days, and it will have to be enough.

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A Birthday Celebration

Dear Children,

Livia had a birthday this month. She is now six years old! It’s hard to believe, because I can still remember her as a baby. Baby Livia would tackle every obstacle head-on, wearing a big smile, and with a gleam in her eye. In many ways she’s still like that, only she’s bigger now and doesn’t drool so much.

Livia’s birthday provided us with a good reason to use the Friendly’s gift card that we had received for Christmas. You had been to restaurants before, but you had never been to one that catered to children. Here they gave you crowns to wear, and your own special menu that had only things that kids like, such as hot dogs and hamburgers. And every meal came with an ice cream. The staff sang a birthday song to Livia when they brought out her ice-cream sundae. You both loved the place, and Marshall wants to go there for his birthday.

You especially enjoyed your ice cream. Livia finished her sundae, then kept scraping her cup with her spoon, trying to get every last bit of ice cream. That girl really likes her sweets! Marshall got a build-your-own sundae, which came with little cups of fudge sauce, M&M’s, and gummy bears on the side. He poured on the “tar” and then carefully stuck the candies into it. But he saved a few candies for us, because he’s nice like that.

Afterward we went to the store to buy Livia some Pokemon cards, because that’s what she wanted more than anything else. Marshall also got a set of cards, but he had to pay for part of it, because it wasn’t his birthday. He felt his money was well spent, though, because he got an awesome card, which he brought to school the next day for show-and-tell. We worried all day that he might lose the card at school (or that someone might take it from him), but he came home with a big smile on his face. The other kids had been impressed. It was great to see him so excited.

Livia is thrilled with her cards, too. I think she likes them as much for cuteness as for their battle strengths. That might give Marshall the advantage when they play against each other. But, since Livia often wins at other games, perhaps it’s for the best. Everybody deserves to be a winner, and everyone should know what it feels like to lose from time to time. Win or lose, I hope you will both continue to enjoy your cards for years to come.

I don’t know if dinner at Friendly’s followed by a trip to the toy store will become a new birthday tradition, but it sure was fun this time.

Love,

Mom

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Can You Gibe Jive While Gybing in Gyves? Does that Jibe?

There are many groups of words that have similar spellings and/or pronunciations, and some of them can be tricky, but this one is the absolute worst!

gibe:

  • n. insulting remark or taunt
  • v. to deride
  • v. to jeer at

gybe:

  • v. shift from one side of a ship to the other
  • v. to change course using a fore-and-at sail

jibe:

  • variant spelling of “gibe”
  • variant spelling of “gybe.”
  • v. to be in accord or match

gyve:

  • v. (archaic) to fetter or shackle
  • n. shackle (usually used in plural)

jive:

  • n. style of jazz
  • n. slang talk of jazz musicians
  • n. a deceptive or worthless thing
  • v. to dance to jive music
  • v. to chitchat
  • v. to speak to someone in a misleading or teasing way
  • adj. misleading or meaningless
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Bah Humbug, Microsoft!

I bought a new computer a while back. It came with Windows 10, so that’s what I’ve been using for the last year or more. Windows 10 is very tablet-oriented, which I guess makes sense, since the computer has a touch screen and can be used tablet-style. And because of that, programs are no longer “programs.” They’re “apps.”

I don’t use most of the apps. I’m a simple person. I do simple things. I use a word processor, a spreadsheet occasionally, a web browser, and a photo editor. That’s pretty much all I need or care about.

For photo editing, I was perfectly happy using the app that came with the computer. It was actually pretty darned good. With it you could adjust light, shadows, saturation, color (even the color of particular objects), and all sorts of other things. It was a powerful little app.

And then one day Microsoft updated the operating system, and as part of that update they removed most of the photo editor’s functionality. Now it’s all about the filters. Whoopee. I totally get that filters are hot right now, but Microsoft could have simply added to the existing filter collection without removing everything that was good about the app.

The timing could not have been worse. They did it right before I had to finish my photo album for the year, and I couldn’t edit my photos the way I wanted to. I was so indignant that I attempted to complain by phone, by e-mail, by any means possible, only to find that their customer service is designed to completely stymie all efforts to lodge a complaint. Basically, if you’re unhappy then they don’t want to know about it. That’s not OK.

Microsoft, you almost spoiled my Christmas with your meddling. Leave my apps alone unless you intend to improve them. And until you get some decent customer service, bah humbug to you!

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Five Years

Dear Kids,

I recently wrote about Christmas 2016. I also reposted about Christmas 2011. This got me to thinking about how much you’ve changed over the past five years.

Marshall didn’t talk much when he was a toddler. He used mostly single words and short phrases. We had thought that preschool would get him talking more, but it didn’t. He would come home from school, and I’d ask him about his day, but he almost never had anything to say.

He’s still not the chattiest boy, unless you get him on a topic he’s really interested in, such as “Sky Kids,” gadgets from “Odd Squad,” TNT, or Pokemon. Then he’ll talk and talk. For example, he had a special pass that gave him permission to bring something to school for show-and-tell. He kept that pass for months with no interest in using it. Then one day he got a rare Pokemon card, and suddenly he insisted on using the pass the very next day. He couldn’t wait to tell everyone about his new treasure.

But though he is relatively quiet, he has already demonstrated a love of wordplay and a desire to tell stories. He even wrote a story one night when he was supposed to be sleeping. I found the pages on his bed in the morning. The story went like this:

“One day Marshall and his friends were playing on a playground. Then pine cones were falling and they grew fast. The worst part is someone was jumping on a trampoline to get a drink from the clouds. It was so bad. Then 100 blobs fell from the sky. Then 100 purple blobs fell from then sky. Then 100 pink blobs fell from the sky. Marshall caught all of them. Then a helicopter dropped TNT and bombs on the playground. Then the playground blew up and no one was hurt. The End.”

Livia in 2011 was less than a year old. At Christmas she was running around grabbing snowflake ornaments in her “moist little hands.” Now in 2016, her hands are bigger and not so moist anymore. They are, however, almost always covered with marker, glitter, and/or glue. She loves making art. She colors every day. We had a family art contest earlier this year, and she liked it so much that she has organized another one for January. There will be five prizes: one each for the snowmanniest, the snowiest, the sleddiest, the iglooiest, and the treeiest pieces of art. That should be fun!

But as I sit here thinking about how Livia has changed, the thing that strikes me is how she hasn’t changed in one regard. She’s eager and has always been that way. She came into this world in a hurry, and she doesn’t like to wait. She wants everything now, now, now. For example, she was only allowed one piece of Halloween candy per day, but after a couple of weeks we found a large, hidden stash of candy wrappers from the extra candy she’d been sneaking on the side. Her dad is always telling her to slow down and savor things, but that’s not her style. She wants to ball them up in her glittery, gluey, marker-streaked hands and gleefully run away with them. And there’s a lot to be said for that approach to life. Carpe diem!

And that, my dears, is how you have changed (or not) over the past five years. They were wonderful years, and I love looking back on them. But I also love looking toward the future, and I can’t wait to see how you grow during the next five years and beyond.

Love,

Mom

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Catching a Fox

We saw a fox in the yard the other day. We ran outside with our cameras hoping to get a picture. The fox was moving fast, though, so I didn’t stop to put on shoes. I didn’t think I’d be outside for long, but I ended up following him all the way down the driveway. He was gone by the time I reached the end. What a bummer. And my feet were getting numb, so I high-tailed it up the driveway. When my husband came back in later, he said, “I caught the fox on video.” I didn’t know how he’d managed it, but I couldn’t wait to see it. Then he showed it to me. It was a video of me running up the driveway. ๐Ÿ˜‰

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State of Mind

I have been so distracted lately. I can’t seem to stay focused long enough to finish anythi

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Livia in 2016

Dear Livia,

Here are a few stories about you from 2016.

Fifth Disease: earlier this year you came home sick with something that the school nurse believed was Fifth disease. Neither your dad nor I had ever heard of it, so we looked it up on the Internet. Apparently it’s common, and a lot of people have had it, often without knowing that they’ve had it. I’m pretty sure that the diagnosis was correct (the facial rash is very distinctive). Anyway, you loved having Fifth disease. You told anyone who would listen that you had it, even after your symptoms were long gone. You took your condition so seriously that one night, dissatisfied with the available selection of nightclothes, you demanded “pajamas appropriate for Fifth disease.”

Picky, Picky: in kindergarten you started getting school lunches, and you did not like most of the meals. Hot dogs and chicken nuggets were fine. Everything else was not. But we encouraged you to try other things from the menu. We thought that the constant exposure to other foods would be good for you and that eventually you’d learn to like more of them.

A few weeks into the school year I got an e-mail from your teacher. She said that the kitchen staff had been doing their best to accommodate your wishes, but since you had no known food allergies, and since they had hundreds of lunches to serve, could we please explain to you that you could not get items customized? I laughed and laughed when I read that. It was so like you to get everyone around you invested in your happiness!

But, while the e-mail was funny, I was disappointed that you’d managed to wrap the lunch ladies around your little finger. They should know better. So I asked your teacher to tell them NOT to cater to you. And I asked you not to pester them, but rather to get SunButter and jelly sandwiches on the days when nothing else appealed. Everyone seemed satisfied with these instructions, and I thought I had solved the problem.

Uh-uh. We recently found out that the lunch ladies have been serving you jelly-only sandwiches. Apparently you had a “big talk” with them. You told them that you didn’t like SunButter, and they caved to your demands. So I think it’s safe to say now that school lunches are not going to help you get over your pickiness. On the bright side, we have made some progress at home. You will eat your salad if it means getting dessert. You’ve also started to like steak.

Singing to Mommy: one night you came over to me, sat in my lap, and sang me an impromptu song about how much you loved me. You started with skin and blood. Blood, blood, blood. Then you sang that you loved me “past my bones” and into my brain, and that you loved my heart. It was one of those rare moments during which I wished I had a video camera trained on us. You had the most adorable smile with the tiniest, most beautiful teeth, and you were being so sweet and innocent and inadvertently gory. It was a perfect moment.

Everyone’s Annoying: one day you hit your brother, and you said you’d done it because he was annoying you. I explained that you can’t hit people just because they’re annoying. I said, “Even Mommy is annoying sometimes, right?” I don’t know what response I was expecting. Maybe a nod? But you looked straight at me and a great weight seemed to slide off your shoulders as you confessed, “Yes. Yes you are. You really are annoying.” I couldn’t help but laugh. You didn’t understand why I was laughing, so you exclaimed, “No. I’m being serious. You really are!” I knew, and that’s why it was funny. Mothers are supposed to be annoying. We had a discussion later, though, to let you know that though you can tell Mommy absolutely anything (because Mommy loves you so much), you shouldn’t tell other people that they’re annoying, even when they really, really are.

Love,

Mom

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