1. We have finally seen a specialist about Edward’s anemia, and that specialist sent us to another specialist, and now Edward is going to have an endoscopy. I am somewhat worried, but not VERY worried. I am much less worried than I was about Elizabeth’s tonsillectomy, for several reasons: (a) I’ve been through a child-under-anesthesia experience once before, which helps take the edge off; (b) an endoscopy doesn’t involve any cutting/removal of anything; (c) the recovery is expected to be much, much, much easier than with a tonsillectomy (a day or two of resting and eating bland foods, as opposed to two weeks of crying and throwing up). I’m still anxious, though. And it didn’t help that the first specialist was in a part of the building called Cancer Care. (This is because pediatric hematologists are also pediatric oncologists, not because cancer is one of the leading theories at this point.)

 

2. Our 3-year-old male cat is or isn’t having a medical crisis. The vet thinks it’s a common liver issue, of the sort requiring lifelong treatment and medication. Or maybe he ate something that poisoned him, and he’ll be fine when it’s out of his system. Or maybe it’s something completely different. This is not our usual vet (our usual vet is on leave until later this month), and I hadn’t realized how much Trust Equity our usual vet has built with me until I tried to see another vet. I find myself suspicious and paranoid at every turn: “Does she know what she’s talking about? Is she making sensible decisions about treatment, or is she assuming we want the most expensive options unless we specifically ask? Why is she recommending a $350 test in that casual ‘We can do it or not, whatever’ manner, as if $350 is such a small amount of money we might want to spend it just for the heck of it? Why when I mentioned cost did she mention lines of credit, as if ‘ability to pay the bill’ is the only possible issue in deciding what to buy?”

And expensive animal care always makes me get uncomfortable flashes of charity ads mentioning that a child can be kept alive for $30/month. (It’s odd that, say, automotive care and large-appliance care don’t give me those same uncomfortable flashes. It must be the comparison of living thing to living thing.) So far we have spent on a cat in four days enough money to keep twenty children alive for a month. And yet, we’re going to continue spending money on this cat, and if we were not spending it on the cat we would not be sending it to children, so where does this leave us? With uncomfortable feelings, that’s where.

 

3. I am even more behind on Christmas preparations this year than usual. Usually I set up the dining room table with card-writing and gift-wrapping right after Thanksgiving before the dining-room-table clutter can re-assert itself, but this year I had to wait for the get-together at my house earlier this week. So yesterday I got everything out and got started, but I feel Late. I also realized we’re short on gifts for Henry.

I remember reading something from the post office awhile back that said that the greatest number of holiday cards are sent on December 14th, and the greatest number are delivered on December 17th. I like knowing that. But also, it makes me feel a little antsy on the 14th.

Do you remember that group of other women I’ve been getting together with about once a month for almost a year now? We get together at one house or another and eat appetizers and drink wine, that group? Well, I HOSTED one. It took me six weeks to think it through, but I did it.

I did it for several reasons. One is that we had gone through all the women who were eager to take a turn hosting, and in fact one of them had taken a second turn. I think there are people who like hosting and people who don’t, and although it makes sense for the former group to do more of it, it can start to feel unfair anyway.

Another reason is that I heard one woman saying she wasn’t going to host because her house was too messy. I thought about the houses where we’d met so far, and all were very, very clean, and uncluttered, and nicely decorated. It makes sense that “nicely-taken-care-of house” and “likes to host” would often go together; and I can identify with the feeling that my house isn’t nice enough to host. But…when the only people who host are the people with clean and nicely-decorated houses, that not only keeps a certain cycle going, it makes the cycle much worse over time. Meanwhile, when I go to a house that ISN’T clean and nicely-decorated, I feel RELIEF and INCREASED AFFECTION: I think, “Whew, I don’t have to worry about my house with her!” My mom, who keeps a clean and nicely-decorated house, confirms that she feels that same relief at the sight of someone else’s messy home.

So it seems to me that in a group, someone has to Go First: someone with a non-clean, non-nicely-decorated house needs to act like it is perfectly acceptable to host a get-together in such a house. WHICH IT IS. But this can’t be SAID (“Oh, don’t WORRY about it, we don’t care!”), it needs to be SHOWN. So I did.

It was a little difficult in the days before the get-together not to go into a crazy, fury-stressed, misplaced-anxiety-fueled cleaning frenzy, but I managed it by thinking of a messy house as a deliberate and philosophical act here. A service to humankind, really. (Also I re-wrote Sara Bareilles’s song to be about not-cleaning instead of about dancing alone in public.) Plus, my dining room was still reasonably clean from Thanksgiving, which means my messy house looked about ten times better than usual, which I guess actually means I was cheating from the get-go. But without that boost, philosophy would have been insufficient. (Perhaps I will take my hosting turn at this time EVERY year.)

My goal was to keep all (additional) cleaning at a reasonable “wiping counters and moving things out of the way of where we’ll want to put the appetizers” level, not at the “cleaning the crack between the stove and the counter” level. And I succeeded, except for cleaning the silverware caddy, so I thought that was pretty good. I also remembered to make ZERO REMARKS about the messiness of the house, since those draw attention to the messiness that would otherwise have gone unnoticed, and/or are annoyingly reassurance-seeking, and/or backfire by adding strength to the idea that only people with perfect clean houses should host.

My third reason (I don’t blame you if that lonnnnnnng second reason made you forget we were in a list of reasons why I decided to host) was that I’d noticed that after I’d been to someone’s house, I felt like I knew that person more than I did after seeing her at other people’s houses. I’m one of the quieter ones in the group, so I thought this was a good strategy for letting people feel like they knew me a little better, presuming they desire to feel that way, which is necessary to presume or else all is lost.

A fourth reason didn’t emerge until AFTER I’d issued the invitation and people had started to accept: I realized that taking a turn hosting made me feel like a more permanent, solid, committed part of the group. Like, if I’m HOSTING, then I’m for-sure a MEMBER. I realized I felt the same way about the other women who hosted: once they’d hosted, they definitely BELONGED to the group. I remember one woman hosted after attending only one get-together, and I thought something like, “Whoa, she’s really serious!” So there can be some symbolism there for both the host and the hosted, and it was symbolism I was glad to have accidentally acquired.

Time to choose next year’s calendar! Or rather “calendars”: I like one in the kitchen and one next to my computer, and then one for each of the three kid bedrooms. Plus I already bought this for next year because I loved it so much this year:

The Metropolitan Museum of Art page-a-day makes me feel like I am getting a little bit of culture every day. Also, I learned I’m not very interested in art that is a statue or a vase or a piece of cloth. I like the paintings.

 

Extraordinary Chickens. Every year I consider this calendar. Every year I conclude that I am something less than a year’s worth of interested in chickens.

Charley Harper. This is a strong contender this year. I had a Charley Harper calendar a few years ago and really liked it.

 

Dancers Among Us. This is going to be like the chickens, I think: I want to look at the pages, but not all year.

 

Minecraft calendar. I didn’t see this until YESTERDAY, and I immediately ordered it while children screamed excitedly in my ears, but it is temporarily out of stock and I am pre-disappointed because this seems likely to be like the fold-your-own-robots calendar of a couple of years ago, where it was out of stock and Amazon kept making me confirm I still wanted it for MONTHS until they finally emailed that it was completely unavailable. [Follow-up: after ordering the temporarily-unavailable Minecraft calendar from Amazon, I noticed another seller had it for a lower price and with the shipping it came to the same price as the Amazon one with free shipping. So I ordered THAT one and cancelled my other order. The shipping is way longer, but should still make it in time for Christmas.] [Follow-up to the follow-up: now the second one I’m linking to has changed to one that is more expensive and has Prime, so I guess the message is to compare sellers.]

 

Lego calendar. This is the one Henry wanted until he saw the Minecraft one.

 

Farmer’s Market calendar. This is the frontrunner for the kitchen this year. I came very close to ordering it last year (it went out of stock while I dithered).

 

Darth Vadar and Son calendar. Papa Darth reminds Luke to use the fork, threatens him with a time-out, etc.

 

Cow yoga calendar. Cow yoga. Cow. Yoga.

 

Dr. Who calendar. I was going through the check-out process with this calendar when I realized I had a logistics problem. William is the child who is most into Dr. Who (he belongs to a Dr. Who fan club, even), so he’d be the one who should get this calendar as a gift—but he shares a room with Henry, who finds Dr. Who too scary/confusing and is one of the children who was screaming in my ear about the Minecraft calendar. Well, I think I’ll order the Dr. Who one anyway and William can put it up on the wall in his bunk.

 

Why Grizzly Bears Should Wear Underpants calendar. The Oatmeal has a calendar this year!

 

Hello Kitty calendar. After years of wanting a Hello Kitty calendar, last year Elizabeth chose one that was photos of cute animals. She’s outgrowing Hello Kitty, which is upsetting. I could still buy one for next to my desk, though.

 

Taylor Swift calendar. I would not be surprised if this were the calendar Elizabeth wanted this year.

 

Legend of Zelda calendar. This is a good candidate for Rob and Edward’s room, because they both like this game. So maybe this one for them, the Minecraft one in William and Henry’s room, and the Dr. Who calendar for William’s bunk.

 

The Tutu Project calendar. Who DOESN’T appreciate a man in a tutu?

 

This is London calendar. This was a finalist last year, and I think the main reason I didn’t get it is that I couldn’t decide if I wanted London, New York, Paris, or San Francisco. I’m not sure I can decide this year, either.

 

Hot Guys and Baby Animals calendar. I bought Paul’s sister the book version of this for Christmas.

 

Mid-Century Modern Ads calendar. Oooo, strong contender.

 

Little Critters calendar. I had this calendar the year before last, and liked it so much I’m tempted to repeat it. The pictures are so cheerful, and I see one of them is a FOX this year. It would be a great calendar for a nursery, too. I mean if YOU have a nursery. I don’t have a nursery.

 

The Golden Age of Travel calendar. This was a finalist last year and might be again this year.

 

Valentina calendar. Some of the pictures on this calendar, I love enough to frame. But some pages have words, and I can’t tolerate an entire month of “Follow your heart” or “Forever friends.”

 

Wallpapers calendar. I ordered the 2013 version of this calendar impulsively last year after a particularly frustratingly dithering session, and I regretted the purchase almost immediately. It would probably be too boring. And what if it was like those dollar-section calendars we got one year from Target, where all the pages curled up? But it has turned out to be one of my favorite calendars of all time: I put it near my desk, and I greatly enjoyed it all year. None of the pages were boring, and it’s on good-quality, non-curling paper. I might have to order it again this year.

 

Bubble calendar. This one is not a candidate for me (I want one with spaces to write on), but I love the idea. Every day you can pop a bubble-wrap bubble! I am a little concerned that I would lose control and pop them all at once.

 

Papertoy Monsters calendar. This comes with a frame that has a little shelf on it, right between the top half of the calendar and the bottom half. So then you fold the little paper monster and put it on the little shelf, and the top half of the calendar is the backdrop/scene for it.

 

Paper Source art calendar. I really love this one—but it’s twice the price of the others, and I don’t think I like it twice as much.

 

The Mathematics calendar. Paul and Rob are BOTH getting this calendar for Christmas. Last year the author didn’t do a calendar, and there was weeping and wailing throughout the land. If you have a mathy/problem-solving sort of person in your life, they might love this: each day has a math problem to solve, and the answer is the number of the day (that is, the answer to December 10th’s problem is 10). How to GET to that answer, though, has Paul’s co-workers gathering in his office each day, arguing around a whiteboard.

 

I am also very interested to hear what calendar YOU are choosing this year.

Just a few days ago I wrote in the Swistmas Package Giveaway post that my favorite animals for decor were “foxes, squirrels, hedgehogs, and owls.” Then yesterday I was at Marshalls with my mom and look what I found:

THOSE FOUR EXACT ANIMALS. ON A SET OF FOUR LITTLE PLATES.

Furthermore, note the hedgehog’s feet: LITTLE STRIPEY TOE-SOCKIES.

I think it would be fun to do a Merry Swistmas package like we did a few years ago and then I forgot all about doing it ever again. Whoa, was that in 2008?? That is longer ago than I’d thought.

Anyway, I certainly wasn’t reminded of it as I was trying to stuff more things into the gift cupboard and being frustrated in that attempt. No. The actual inspiration is that I have a new favorite Christmas mug, and it was sold in a 2-pack so I have a spare.

It seems like there was something else as well, because I remember thinking, “Yes, but that’s two Christmas-themed things, which makes it a little disappointing if it’s someone who doesn’t Do Christmas”—oh, yes, I remember now: a copy of my favorite Christmas book, This Year It Will Be Different by Maeve Binchy. I didn’t love it the first time as much as I love it now that I re-read it every December. I can get happy-weepy just THINKING about reading it, which is PERFECT for making the Christmas lights look all diffused and pretty.

So anyway, that’s the backbone of the box, and then if I can get anything OUT of the gift cupboard I can see what the other options are. “Assorted” is the theme here. I’ll bet there’s some stationery in there, and maybe a Webkinz, and a pretty tote bag or coin purse or something. I don’t know, I don’t think I’ve been able to get in there since 2005.

The giveaway is only for U.S. mailing address (so if you don’t live in the U.S. but you have a friend/relative in the U.S., you can have the package shipped to them if you want—I can put in a little note saying it’s from you), which I realize is sad but there it is. You can, however, win it even if you don’t celebrate the same holiday as me: I’d just switch to a non-Christmas-tree/stories kind of theme, but the Assorted theme could still stand. You can enter by leaving a comment on this post before noon U.S. Pacific Time on Wednesday, December 11th, 2013. The comment can be anything, but if you’re like me and that kind of freedom makes you feel self-conscious and awkward, why don’t you tell me your favorite animal (I like cats for pets; foxes, squirrels, hedgehogs, and owls for decor), or tell me what you’d name a reindeer (I think Midge for a girl, Fisher for a boy).

 

 

Update: The winner is Caitlin of the December 4th, 12:56 p.m. comment! I’ll email you, Caitlin!

Two years in a row, I have made a pumpkin pie for Thanksgiving. Two years in a row, it has been a flop.

Part of the problem, perhaps the MAIN problem, is that I don’t like pumpkin pie. When I LIKE something, like for example brownies, I WORK AT IT. I make that recipe again and again and again, sacrificing my own figure to make sure the recipe is truly as good as it was the last time I made it.

My heart isn’t in pumpkin pie the same way. And because I don’t like it, I don’t think, “Hm, this is okay, but what it needs is more/less _______,” or “No, this recipe is no good because ______.” I just think, “For pumpkin pie, this isn’t too bad, or “Even _I_ know this pie is no good.”

I don’t remember what I did last year, because last year I had the flu and was doing things like forcing myself to go to the kitchen and do one single step in a recipe, and then going back to the recliner to spend 10 minutes gearing up to do the next step. Maybe I hallucinated the pie, now that I think of it. Either way, it was no good.

The year before, I got one of those refrigerated pie crusts that comes folded up in a box and you have to make sure it comes to room temperature before you try to unfold it or it’ll break. I got that because that’s what my mother-in-law used, and my mother-in-law was big on making things from scratch, and she said the pie crust in a box was better than the pie crust she could make. And I had had samples of several of her pies, and they were quite fine pies. I might not in general model myself after my mother-in-law, but since Making a Pie Crust From Scratch is not an option (no, not even if it’s really easy) (no, seriously, I’m not using a rolling pin ever again) (NO MEANS NO), it seemed like a good second-best.

Then I made the filling recipe from the can of pumpkin. I figured it would be likely to be pretty good, because they want to sell you the pumpkin.

Anyway, it was awful. The crust was not good, though it seemed more like an underbaking issue, not like the crust itself was no good. The spices in the pie tasted off, and it seemed kind of goopy. I usually eat a tiny slice for tradition’s sake, and I couldn’t get through it. Paul likes pumpkin pie, and he said cautiously that it was “not inedible.”

All of this sounds like I’m working up to asking for a recipe, and if you have a recipe that works with a pre-made crust I’d be glad to hear it. But what I’m ACTUALLY asking is for reports on the decency of pumpkin pies purchased pre-made from grocery store bakeries and grocery store freezers. I was buying ice cream the other day and I saw pumpkin pies just IN THE FREEZER. But are they good? And if so, which BRAND is good? If I liked pumpkin pie, I would buy one of each ahead of time and try them all, just out of pure scientific curiosity.

Or, our grocery store has a bakery. And they make pies. The pies are just sitting there on tables, ready to buy. But are they GOOD? And can I buy a pumpkin pie the day before Thanksgiving and have it be good the next day? And I see there’s a big sign up in the bakery asking people to PLEASE make sure they order their Thanksgiving pies before November 21st, so perhaps that option is for next year anyway.

So that is what I am asking: If you have purchased a pie from a grocery store freezer or from a grocery store bakery (especially from a freezer, since it may be too late for bakery), how did it turn out? Was it yummy?

Do you remember the awful woman I’m volunteering with? First I’d like to beg you not to feel sorry for her or worry that she’s just shy or whatever. My descriptions haven’t been very detailed because I’m nervous about that (I’m going to come back later and delete a couple of my examples below), but you will have to TRUST ME that I am familiar with social awkwardness and the range of comes-across-badly-but-is-from-a-good-place human behavior, and that armed with that information and experience I am not steering you amiss. She is not at all nervous. She is not at all awkward. She is utterly, relentlessly, inappropriately confident. Picture someone you know who is incredibly bossy and self-centered, who takes no one else’s thoughts or ideas into account, who thinks everyone else is stupider than her, who thinks she knows a better way to do everything, and who has to have everything her own way or else you’re way stupider than she thought you were. THIS IS NOT SOCIAL AWKWARDNESS. She is the OPPOSITE of bumbling or shy or awkward or blurting out something that comes out the wrong way. She is the OPPOSITE of wants to fit in. She is the OPPOSITE of going home and kicking herself for saying something dumb. I DEMAND YOU REFOCUS YOUR PITY. (Mine. I want it. Give it to me.)

Okay. So do you remember what I wished for, the last time we discussed this? I’ll just go ahead and quote myself, since I have a quote-indenting button right here in front of me:

I DO wish, however, for several other parents to make subtle remarks over the next few months that let me know (without it turning into back-biting, because that feels wonderful at the time but comes with a nauseating hangover) that they don’t like her either.

I will just say this: I got my wish. One of the other volunteers said (tactfully, delicately, and only when someone else brought it up) that the woman in question has been “stirring things up” all over the school. That she went to the principal and demanded a key card like the teachers have, so that she doesn’t have to be buzzed into the school building like other parents do. [Example snipped.] That she went to the cafeteria and demanded that they get their food from a different source, one that would more than triple the cost of school lunches. [Example snipped.] That she doesn’t like the assignments her child’s teacher was giving, and asked for them to be changed, and SENT IN COPIES OF HER VERSION OF AN ASSIGNMENT FOR THE WHOLE CLASS.

Immensely satisfying, as you can imagine, and I hope we can avoid the temptation to keep discussing her when she’s not there. I’m wondering how long she (the woman) is going to keep this up, considering that so far the answer to each of her demands has been “How kind of you to take an interest, and no way in hell”?

I just finished Fin & Lady, by Cathleen Schine. I don’t know if I’m recommending it to you, or if I’m just telling you about it.

I enjoyed reading it, but I was very conscious of Reading a Book. One main character (named, improbably, Lady) is a Perfectly Cool Girl; it was hard for me to accept her as real. She’s just sooooooo pretty and witty and always says the right thing and everyone loves her.

Lady is the guardian of her half-brother Fin, who has recently lost both parents. While reading about how this arrangement worked out, I thought:

1. Either this author does not have children, OR

2. She does have children, and her children are fundamentally different from my children, OR

3. She does have children and her children are of the same species as mine, but she is nevertheless as susceptible as any Hollywood screenwriter to the Cute ‘n’ Convenient Child Character: a child who fits into a single woman’s life like a witty, fulfilling, adorable handbag

 

Fin is the kind of child who would be played by an older version of that kid with glasses in Jerry Maguire: he’d come into a room, listen intelligently and appreciatively to an adult’s witticisms and wisdom, feel tremendously grateful for all that adult has done for him, make an adorable or thoughtful or wise-beyond-his-years remark, and then leave the room for seriously DAYS without needing anything from the adult.

I didn’t feel this way while reading the book, exactly: I too enjoy the fantasy of the Surprise Left-to-Me-in-a-Will Child Who Works Out GREAT Because I Am So Extremely Awesome. But I did keep realizing I was reading that kind of fantasy. It didn’t feel to me that this is how things would actually go. So I guess that’s what I’m saying: it’s a good fantasy, the way an romance novel that ends with the deliriously happy wedding is a good fantasy. I thought it was a good STORY, and I ENJOYED reading it, but I didn’t believe it. It would make a good movie.

 

Right before that, I read The Valley of Amazement, by Amy Tan.

Any complaints I have about this book are my own damn fault: if I don’t know perfectly well by now that Amy Tan books make me want to leap off a cliff and hope to fall as fast as possible, then I don’t know how to end this sentence. But I DID read it, and I DID end up feeling like there was no point in the continuation of the human species.

And, simultaneously, I thought, “What? This makes no sense.” For example, a woman has her child TAKEN from her. And then she thinks, “Welp, guess I’d better find a job.” She has powerful friends, but she doesn’t use them to help her get the child or anything. What is going ON? It’s a hundred years ago and in another country, but was there seriously NOTHING she could do about it? And if not, we’re back to opening our arms eagerly for the rapidly-approaching rocks below, so really there’s no right answer here. Either life really is that terrible, in which case it’s the cliff and/or no more reading Amy Tan books; or else it isn’t, in which case no more reading Amy Tan books.

It feels a little as if EVERYONE has a FitBit, so perhaps this post is unnecessary. But if you DON’T have one and you’re wondering what it’s LIKE, then I will tell you in time for you to add it to your wish list.

I have the clip-on FitBit (as opposed to the bracelet style). It’s the least expensive FitBit option and it looks like this:

I chose the green one. It was an agonizing decision.

You may notice it looks different in its two pictures: this is because it’s shown with and without its little protective case (the case has the clip on it). I think the case makes it look even prettier, because it’s a complementary shade of green that takes it from “is this green, or is this yellow?” to “green—a yellowish green, but it’s green.”

You can clip it to your bra strap, or you can clip to your pocket. I tried it both ways, and I much preferred the pocket; my mother prefers to clip hers to her bra, but this does make for an amusing sight if she’s trying to check her steps while we’re out in public. If you clip it to your pocket, you’re supposed to clip it to the INSIDE of your pocket: that way if it falls out of its little clip-case, it drops safely into your pocket. It also means that all you see from the outside is the little one-inch-by-1/4-inch stripe of clip, rather than the whole FitBit. This is something to take into account, though, before ordering one of the brighter colors: the green would be very noticeable against my jeans if I didn’t always wear long shirts.

I’ve had the FitBit for just over 2 months now. I wondered if I would even like it, but I DO. In fact, I really, REALLY like it. And you know I am not an Exercise Person.

Here is what I like: it uses the kind of methods that are effective on me to encourage me to do the exercise I feel like I ought to be doing. I like the feeling of having someone monitor my good behavior approvingly: if I walk to my parents’ house instead of driving, someone NOTICES and makes a little SMILEY FACE about it. It’s why I like the Wii Fit, too: I like that someone is KEEPING TRACK. I get CREDIT. And I don’t know why it would be motivating to have a computer keep track uncaringly of steps or minutes or whatever, BUT IT IS. The downside is the same as for most such situations: it increases the feeling that if the monitoring stops, there’s no point behaving. If the FitBit stopped working one day and I knew it wasn’t recording my steps, my motivation would PLUMMET. Buuuuuuuuut….”plummeted” is near my USUAL level of motivation, so not much lost, and lots gained.

Here is what the dashboard (on the computer) looks like:

When I first set it up, I changed the step goal to 2000 because I didn’t have any idea how many steps I might already be doing, and I didn’t want to get discouraged right off the bat. (The miles and active-minutes goals are also adjustable.) After awhile, I raised the step goal to 5,000, and then to 7,000, then to 10,000.

You get badges (little pictures on your dashboard) for meeting milestones: your first 5,000 steps in a single day; your first 5 miles; etc. They’d be more fun if there were more of them: after meeting all the early goals, the later goals feel so unlikely. Also, I don’t like the feeling it gives me that NOTHING IS EVER GOOD ENOUGH. “You went 30,000 steps in a single day? Great! NOW DO MORE.” Also-also, I want to see all my badges in little rows like on a Girl Scouts vest, not just the one they consider “top.”

I like that it differentiates among the intensities of different kinds of walking. Like, if I am strolling around Target, leaning on the cart handle indolently while sipping a coffee and barely lifting my feet, those steps are orange (“light”); but if I am out on a walk, those steps are yellow (“moderate”) and/or green (“very”). The colors can be a little tricky because each line’s color represents the steps done in that 15-minute period. So you can do 5 minutes of fast walking and 10 minutes of sitting down and end up with an orange or yellow line, no green showing—and yet the Very Active Minutes dial will still count those 5 minutes. (Someone who is Very Active Indeed may resent the level the FitBit considers Very Active: if I walk just over 2 miles/hour, it registers as Very Active.)

There was a calorie tile, too, but I took it out because I found it perplexing/upsetting/unhelpful, and because my latest attempt at improving overall health is trying not to get discouraged and give up when healthful moderate exercise doesn’t seem to result in being willowy and underweight, and trying to focus on exercise being good for overall health ANYway, especially now that I am in my Elder Years. But it’s interesting because it tracks ALL estimated calorie usage, including while you’re asleep, not just “exercise calories,” and so maybe I will use it later on.

You can see over to the right of the dashboard screen that you can be friends with people and see their steps, and it ranks you in order and declares a weekly winner. But I think I would find that kind of competition discouraging and/or upsetting and/or annoying. I MIGHT add Paul, if he were to get a FitBit—but I can picture getting annoyed and unfriending him.

I worried that it would be a pain to set up, but it was not. I wish I could remember how much personal information it asked for, because that’s the kind of thing I like to know before setting up something online. I notice that my weekly email from them is addressed to “Kristen Surname Initial,” so presumably it doesn’t make you put in a full/real name. I think it’s first and last name (though I used an initial) and user name and password; also I think height and weight. Then you plug a little nubbin into a USB port on your computer, and you hold up the FitBit, and it syncs up. Thereafter, it automatically syncs every time you get near your computer. (There are separate instructions for setting it up with a smartphone or tablet.) My mom almost never checks on her computer, and always looks at the FitBit itself; I almost never look at the FitBit itself, but I have the FitBit window always open in a tab on my computer.

The email level is nice. FitBit emails once a week to tell you your previous week’s summary: how many total steps, how many total miles, how many average steps/miles per day, highest/lowest daily steps/miles. It also nags you to set up the sleep tracker, but the type of device I have doesn’t DO sleep, I don’t think. FitBit also sends an email each time you earn a badge.

So! The FitBit is one of those devices that seemed very expensive to me for something I wasn’t even sure I would LIKE or USE—but now that I have it, if it broke I would buy a new one WITHIN THE HOUR and I would pay extra for overnight shipping. It’s made a significant difference in how I feel about exercise and how willing I am to do it. If I have to park far away, I think, “Yay, more steps!” If I JUST came upstairs and realize I need something else from downstairs, I think, “Well, I’ll get more steps.” If I’m at 8,000 steps for a day, I’ll think, “Hm, maybe I’ll go for a little walk!”

It takes me from “Very Unmotivated to Exercise” to “Just the Right Amount of Motivated.” That is, I feel a little uncomfortable if I don’t meet the step goal, but I don’t change my life in negative ways (finking out on other plans, staying up past bedtime, forcing myself to exercise even when I’m sick or hurt) in order to meet it. I’m not sure I would recommend it for anyone who feels they might get a little obsessive about it, or who finds themselves prone to “Nothing is ever enough” feelings.

This would also not be ideal for someone who gets a lot of physical activity in non-step-taking ways: I imagine it would be quite frustrating to lift weights all afternoon and then have a frowny-face on your FitBit as if you’d been eating Reese’s Peanut Butter Trees and reading People magazine.

Two things I had to discover by accident about jam, but maybe you have known all your life:

1. Grape JAM is completely different than grape JELLY. Grape jelly is the stuff that’s translucent and kind of like jell-o and doesn’t go on smoothly. Grape JAM is opaque and, after swishing the knife around in it, goes on smoothly. I didn’t learn this until my late twenties; I always just thought I hated grape jam because I was thinking of jelly and didn’t know there WAS a grape jam. But as anyone who has made jam or jelly knows, jelly is basically gelled fruit juice, while jam has the fruit in there.

2. Seedless strawberry jam could instead be called Big-mushy-strawberry-lump-less jam. The seeds don’t bother me so I never bought seedless. Then either Paul or I bought the seedless by mistake—and it was a revelation like the grape jam: it’s LOVELY. Because they have to strain out the seeds, you don’t get those unspreadable big mushy strawberry lumps either. (If those are your favorite part, then you’ll want to avoid the seedless.)

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I have a small diaper bag I bought long ago on clearance at Lands’ End, thinking it might be useful even though I didn’t like the color. It ended up being the Emergency Car Diaper Bag: it was just the right size for two to three diapers, some wipes, some hand sanitizer, and a fresh onesie. It saved my bacon many a time.

Tidying the car recently, I found it under the driver’s seat. The bag is still in good shape, but what to use it for, especially since I don’t like the color? THIS is what:

It is now an Emergency Car Bag for teenagers.

This idea started when I picked a child up from school for an orthodontist appointment, and as he got into the car I made the immediate and uncharacteristic decision to RISK BEING LATE: instead of driving directly to the appointment, we stopped at home to have him change his shirt and put on deodorant, because LORDY. A clean shirt won’t fit in the bag, but a travel pack of diaper wipes and a thing of deodorant would help considerably if we didn’t have time to stop at home.

Also a comb, hand sanitizer, and a snack, which are potentially useful for ANY of us (as are the wipes).