I don’t know why adding a part-time job has SO DEPLETED my available time, well beyond what I would have expected based on the number of hours, but also it’s The Holidays and that is certainly contributing. I credit Elizabeth with getting me over the hurdle of decorating this year: she was like “Girl. We need to get out the Christmas dishes,” and I find her very persuasive, and also she will HELP with the tasks she suggests, and also she is the kind of persistent where you might as well just give in because you won’t stop hearing her calm, gentle, repeated suggestions until you do, and so we DID get out the Christmas dishes, and then we got out the Christmas bird and the Christmas llama and the Christmas mugs and the Christmas everything else, and all of those things are very happy to see.

And the Christmas lights are up. Christmas Light Time is my favorite time of year. I am trying not to pre-dread the dark winter days ahead when the Christmas lights come down and their absence is deeply felt. (I extremely relate to this comic about the two stages of winter.) Maybe this year I will leave the lights up until there are daffodils.

I am trying to Think! More! Positively! even though I hate that whole concept so I am not sure why I am attempting it, except that I am hoping not to plummet as far this winter as I did last winter. The new job helps: doing something active and productive each day feels good, and also I am nice and warm for those few hours at least. When I get home from work I do Preventative Warmth: I put on my wool socks and my warm slippers and several layers of warm tops, and I bring another warm top or a throw blanket to wherever I am going to be, since when I get to a certain level of Chilly and Sad I find it difficult to make myself do anything about it, and instead sit in despair noticing how the tip of the nose really does get distinctly cold.

Anyway, one of my exercises in Thinking! Positive! was to find something good to say about winter, particularly the post-Christmas part of winter, and what I came up with is that all winter long I can think happily about how spring is coming next. (The downfall of spring is that all spring I am dreading summer. But the nice thing about summer is that I can look forward to fall! Unfortunately all fall I am dreading winter.)

Let’s see, more positive things about winter. I love a lot of my cold-weather clothes. (I hate a lot of my hot-weather clothes.) I like flannel sheets and heavy warm bedding. The snow looks pretty when it is falling. I can’t think of anything else. I hate winter.

I hate dealing with snow. I hate driving on icy/snowy roads. I hate worrying that snow/ice will ruin plans. I hate slushy parking lots. I hate how snow/ice build up so that parking lots and driveways get smaller and smaller. I hate how early it gets dark, and I hate the combination of cold/dark, which is SO MUCH COLDER than cold/light. I hate trying to bring in multiple loads of groceries without tracking snow/slush into the house. I hate all the boot/shoe/slipper changes.

My big kids are home, and I have been baking and cooking while they sleep in until I wake them at 2:00 in the afternoon. This morning when Paul got up at 4:00 (he gets up early to avoid the dealbreaker traffic on his commute, but now can’t break the habit on days he doesn’t go to work), Rob was still awake, and didn’t go to bed until 6:00. I am trying not to be concerned, but that really doesn’t seem right. *forehead fret-lines deepen*

This morning Paul made cinnamon buns, which was delightful, and such a perfect smell to wake up to, and such a nice addition to breakfast before I start on another day of cooking. I want to say all that first, so you know I know what a lovely thing this was, because NEXT I want to tell you that he put raisins in them, which is not the weird thing: the weird thing is that he put raisins in them FOR ME.

Reader, it is tempting to exaggerate here and say that I HATE raisins, or to say “That man has never seen me eat a raisin,” or whatever, and neither of those would be exactly true, but they have the FEEL of truth when what I am trying to convey is how close I came to adding this to the “Evidence of early-onset Alzheimer’s?” list. I WILL eat a raisin, and in fact a couple of decades ago I used to add them deliberately to Grape-Nuts, and I did enjoy that combination; I also used to eat Raisin Bran, so the case against my claim of not liking raisins has weak points. Also, recently I had lunch at Panera and they had an oatmeal-raisin cookie concept to which they had added dried berries, and I chose that on purpose and paid money for it and ate it. But the idea that anyone would ADD RAISINS to something, on purpose, FOR ME, is…extremely odd. I would say my USUAL reaction to “things with raisins in them” is shudder/avoid. I appreciate that other people like/love raisins, and I understand it because there are similar things that I like that other people don’t like, but if you LOVE raisins in cinnamon rolls I do hope you understand that that information is relevant only if you are explaining why Paul added raisins for YOU.

When Paul first told me he had added raisins to the cinnamon buns had not yet revealed that he considered that An Act of Love, I reacted with an incredulous “WHY??” After he explained it was for me, I said “But we both hate raisins in things? Especially WARM raisins?” and he said that HE hated raisins in things but that I was always choosing food that had things in it that he hated. I’m not sure that explanation improved anything.

Well. I ate a cinnamon bun with raisins in it, because it is not possible to wake up to Cinnamon Bun Scent and then not consume cinnamon buns, and it was fine—especially because Paul does not normally cook with raisins (because we both dislike raisins, particularly warm raisins) so he doesn’t know you have to soak them first if you want them to retain moisture during baking, so they were small and shriveled rather than squishy and plump. Which, for someone who dislikes raisins, particularly warm raisins, is a good thing.

I just want to say again, because I think this kind of thing is difficult to explain without inviting misunderstanding, that I am not sharing (1) a story of how I don’t appreciate that I am married to someone who makes homemade cinnamon rolls, or (2) a story of how I don’t appreciate that I am married to someone who tries to do something he’ll think I like (especially nice when it’s something HE doesn’t like), but rather: (3) a story of how surreal it is when the partner of OVER HALF MY LIFE does something such as add raisins to something because he knows how much I love raisins, when I do not in fact even LIKE raisins, and he never sees me eat raisins, and he and I have discussed on multiple occasions how much we dislike raisins (particularly warm raisins).

I have been so tired and sad recently, and small tasks feel overwhelming, and medium tasks feel impossible. Paul bought me a HappyLight, and set it up right at my desk, and helpfully switched it on, and I am too listless and Novembery to take any of it personally.

I made a bunch of purchases recently that all coincidentally need to be returned, and I am not confident it’s going to happen. It is especially discouraging because each thing was purchased to accomplish something on my overwhelming to-do list, so getting those things done was so satisfying—but now not only do I have to do the returns (I HATE returning things, even when it is easy and uneventful), I have to uncheck all those boxes. Present for impossible-to-buy-for eldest son? Unchecked. Warm cozy vest to help me not be cold every single second? Unchecked. New winter coat in my current size? Unchecked. Second attempt at a new winter coat in my current size? Unchecked. Some cute things for fundraiser care packages? Unchecked. New shoes for Henry? Unchecked.

Also, we scheduled a fall clean-up for today. They were supposed to be here first thing this morning. They have not arrived. They have not responded to texts or calls.

I would like to talk a little bit about my library job, because I am still feeling happy about that. I’ve been there three months. It is definitely getting more boring/repetitive now, but not in a way I mind yet. When I sign up to cover someone else’s shift, I find as the shift approaches I think “Oh, good, I’m going into work tomorrow!” instead of “Ug, why did I agree to cover that shift??”

Guess what? We’re allowed to take any library discards we want! Isn’t THAT a dangerous option to have! And the discards aren’t just old copies of books no one reads anymore, they’re also the half-dozen extra copies of a new popular book we had while the book still had a huge waiting list. So far I have taken home only one discard (the Jincy Willett book The Writing Class, which I talked about here), because (1) I only just found out it was okay to take discards and (2) I am being VERY CAREFUL NOT TO OVERDO IT. (IT WOULD BE SO EASY TO OVERDO IT.)

One of my favorite tasks is going around collecting all the books/DVDs/etc. people requested online. I especially like it when I go to look for an item, and it isn’t there, and then I look somewhere else and don’t find it, and then I look somewhere else and don’t find it, and then I look somewhere else and I FIND IT. I also enjoy sorting out shelf tangles, where something was misshelved and then other things were misshelved because of the misleading misshelved item. Sometimes these two things are combined: for example, today I went looking for a fiction book by Melissa De La Cruz, and it was not with the two other Melissa De La Cruz books, and while looking for it I discovered a shelf tangle (books by Dean had been filed in the midst of the Da_ section, starting a little mini De_ section where it should not be). And then, after I’d looked through all the D’s and hadn’t found the book I was looking for, my eyes fell upon it sitting at the end of a shelf of C’s! …I realize this story loses something in the retelling, so you will have to trust me that the whole thing was exhilarating and fun and satisfying.

Here is a small happy thing: when I am looking for where a book belongs, and I find there is still a gap on the shelf where the book was taken out. It is so pleasing to put the book right back where its gap is waiting for it.

Something else I like about this job is that I’m almost completely unmonitored. It surprised me at first, especially when I was new and it seemed like maybe they should do a little more monitoring. But now it feels like they let me manage my own time, and since I CAN manage my own time, I like this a lot. I can disappear for an hour and no one asks where I’ve been (and if they DID ask, I know I have an answer they’d like). If I’m shelving, and I find a big shelf tangle and it takes me half an hour to sort it out, I don’t have to worry that they’ll think I’m off slacking. They seem to just ASSUME that I will figure out the best way to spend my time—or, at least, that I will figure out an acceptably good way to spend my time. This is in SHARP CONTRAST to most other entry-level jobs I’ve had.

This is the third post in a row about my Halloween costume, which is weird because I do not usually do any posts at all about my Halloween costumes, because I do not usually wear a Halloween costume, because I do not usually want to. This job has already changed me.

First of all, I would like to say that wearing a costume to work was 100% the right decision for this particular workplace. I’ve been at this job just over two months and mostly I am flitting briskly back and forth across the library, so I am not getting to know my co-workers very quickly; it felt to me that when I wore the costume, everyone warmed to me another degree. They were all wearing costumes, and I had shown up in a costume, and this bonded us a little. I think I got Participant Points. Also, I was cute: one of my sterner co-workers looked at me with shining eyes and said “Awwww, a little BEE!!”

Secondly, a BEE costume in particular was absolutely the right choice for a Public/Community Setting. I got LOTS of pleased glances from patrons: a bee is easy to recognize and widely considered to be cute and appealing. Little children attending a cute library Halloween event knew what I was supposed to be and were not scared of me. Also, because my job involves the aforementioned flitting back and forth across the library, the bee felt appropriate for my activity type. AND it was comfortable enough, although the wings kept shifting and bapping into my head when I had to lean over.

Those of you who follow me on Twitter may have seen that there was A TERRIBLE CATASTROPHE involving my bee antenna: the delivery person put them in our mailbox, which they were not allowed to do because the delivery person was not USPS; the USPS driver then apparently picked up the package, either mistaking it for outgoing mail or else deliberately removing a package that should not have been there. Well, or maybe the package was coincidentally stolen, who knows, doesn’t matter, it was gone. Amazon gave me a refund, but it was too late to get replacements. LUCKILY, I have the headband I keep to prevent me from buying further headbands, and I had pipe-cleaners, so the day was saved, though I was still disappointed: we had no black pipe-cleaners, so I had to use yellow, and they were a very different yellow from my shirt and shoes. BUT IT WAS FINE.

Also: the wings I wore were from a literal toddler costume, and they fit fine—in case you are thinking of putting together a bee costume of your own. They were the kind with two elastic loops to go around your shoulders. If anything, the small size of the wings created an even more whimsical effect.

For next year, if I am still at the library, I plan to acquire black leggings and a yellow-and-black tutu and better antennae.

Thanks to Auntie G reminding me on the Costumette post that it is BEE SEASON, I now have a very simple (and satisfyingly political-but-not-political) mini-costume:

(image from Amazon.com)

Bee pom boppers headband.

(image from Amazon.com)

Yellow-and-black striped shirt. I was not planning to spend so much on this costume (the shirt alone was $18), but was swayed by the way the shirt description specifically mentioned that the stripes line up at the seams; also, I wondered if this shirt might work as a Voting shirt and an Expressing Anger After Something Else Happens shirt, and I’m willing to pay more for a versatile item.

You may well wonder why I would buy three pairs of pom boppers when I have only the one head, and it is because the single pair of pom boppers wouldn’t ship/arrive in time. I may save the remaining pairs of pom boppers for future years (the reviews indicate a certain level of cheapness), or I may include them in a couple of fundraiser care packages. You are correct if you think I am taking nearly every opportunity to say “pom boppers.”

I also have a small pair of white wings from our family costume box that I will wear if they look right. They’re the kind with elastic loops around each shoulder and I’m worried they’ll pull the shirt too snugly across the front and feel Indecent.

Mtbakergirl made the valid point that TUTUS should always be part of any costumette discussion, so I considered this one in yellow, black, or yellow/black:

(image from Amazon.com)

But in the end decided to go simple this year and maybe fluff it up next year. I am getting more genuinely Into this costume thing now, and am picturing also acquiring a pair of yellow Converse sneakers and some black leggings.

I am working at the library on Halloween, and I would like to wear a small amount of costume. I don’t want to be fully dressed in a costume, and I probably don’t want anything wig/hat-like, because I walk around very briskly for several hours and I get hot even in short sleeves; but I would like some little marker of the holiday to show, however incorrectly, that I am Game. I have pumpkin earrings I can wear, but I want more than that. I want a costumette.

I first considered something that immediately breaks my exact stated preference to avoid a wig/hat, but that is because I HAVE this wig (in pink and in blue) and it is SURPRISINGLY CUTE FOR THE PRICE and it looks pretty cute on me and I have so few occasions to wear it:

(image from Amazon.com)

With a festive pumpkin headband, perhaps.

Or a book-themed Halloween t-shirt? But that is not really a costume; that’s more like the pumpkin earrings.

(image from Amazon.com)

I always wear glasses and I usually wear my hair up; adding an RBG dissent collar is all it would take for an RBG costumette. But we are not supposed to do anything religious or political at work.

(image from Amazon.com)

I like the idea of an entire costume in a headband:

(image from Amazon.com)

This is like, “Yes, I am costumed, I am a deer”—but with three seconds of effort.

Oh, wow, what is THIS?

(image from Amazon.com)

I don’t think that’s really a costume, though, or even a costumette.

I think a butterfly costumette would be perfect: wings on my back, plus antennae headband. But I’m having trouble finding wings that just go on my back, rather than the kind that also attach to my hands for graceful butterfly flapping. I see the only-on-the-back kind for little kids, but I’m not sure how that would look on an adult, or if it would fit at all.

I have a simple cheap cape I bought on clearance last year just in case anyone needed one for a costume this year. I could just wear the cape.

I love this video so much:

Come On To Me, by Paul McCartney.

So much. So extremely much. I had like three and a half stressful things happen yesterday, none of which are long-term important or long-term consequential but I had that queasy/burny adrenaline feeling anyway, so I watched that video a couple of times and felt much better.

I wasn’t going to talk about the boring stressful inconsequential things, but it turns out I am. One was that the school nurse has twice in the last two months asked me for Henry’s vaccination record, and the first time she asked for it I mailed it to her, and the second time I had the medical records office fax it (and I stayed on the phone with them until they got a confirmation that it went through), and she’s claiming that not only did she receive neither, but she has NOTHING FOR HIM SINCE 2012. I just have one question, and that is “??????????????????????” In fact, I don’t even want to discuss it, it’s too infuriating on too many levels, and needless to say this is not the first issue I’ve had with this nurse and the kids’ paperwork. From now on I will email all documents so that I can email them again and again and again as necessary, and so that I can start cc’ing administration.

Another of the things was that I took Edward to the dentist, and as we were checking in, the receptionist said the visit wouldn’t be covered because he’d already been twice this year. I blinked at her, and she reminded me that we’d been coming more often because of his braces, and I said “Oh, yeah!” and sat down. Then, after I sat down, I remembered he got his braces off a year ago and it’s Elizabeth who comes more often because of braces. I went back up to the counter, and she said that after getting his braces off last fall, he came for cleanings in January and April. I checked my calendar at home, and those facts check out. But then…why did I do that? Did I lose my mind? Did they just say “Okay let’s schedule the next appointment” and I let them do it for three months instead of six? What HAPPENED? That was a very expensive mistake, and not a pleasant thing to be surprised by.

The third thing was that Henry’s allergist does shots on Tuesdays and Thursdays, and I failed to notice that this week we have something scheduled both days and I can’t take him, and Henry brought this to my attention right after I’d read the email from the nurse saying she had no records for him since 2012 (when he STARTED KINDERGARTEN) and that I was required by state law to call her and tell her when Henry’s vaccination appointment was, for a vaccination he has already had, for which I have already sent in the proof, not only twice this year but also last year when it was required for him to enter sixth grade, so if she really didn’t receive it why is she only tracking it down NOW??? But we won’t discuss it further, we will just simmer with choking, impotent rage. (Also I sent her an email saying it was not possible that all the forms sent by me and by the pediatrician since 2012 had coincidentally not arrived, and that if they HAD failed to arrive, we needed to find out why I was only finding out about it now, and I cc’d administration.)

The half-of-a-thing was that I forgot to allow for construction on the way to Edward’s appointment, construction I KNEW about and KNEW to plan for, and so I didn’t allow extra time. We still got there three minutes early so it was fine. But the adrenaline lingered, and the incident supported the “Am I LOSING MY MIND?” feeling of taking Edward to the dentist too often.

*pant pant* Let’s watch the video again.

The first paragraph of this post was originally a description of a dream I had last night. Then the second paragraph was an earnest apology for telling you about my dream. So then I thought it would be more efficient to delete both paragraphs and start over.

I have received my first Papergang subscription box. I was already very close to signing up when @RubyTheBee mentioned it on Twitter, and then Kirsty mentioned it again on the Mrs. Grossman’s Sticker Club post, and I signed up for three months.

I got my first box yesterday, and I am going to tell you about it, but first you need to know that they gave me a referral link, and if you sign up for a subscription using that link (or more precisely only if TWO of you do it), then I get a free box added to my own subscription, which means you should consider me a FULLY COMPROMISED AGENT. (Let’s dilute that by saying this: if you have a Papergang referral code of your own, please leave it in the comments so that people have a choice. I was going to add RubyTheBee’s code here, since that’s what I used when I signed up, but Twitter mangles it when I click on it, so that it turns into a Twitter link and does not look at all like the Papergang code I have. Ruby, you should put your code again in the comments. Kirsty, you too.)

The subscription comes from ENGLAND, so if you are in the United States, as I am, you can feel the thrill of seeing a customs declaration on the box. Also, everything from England is automatically more charming. Here’s what the other side of the box looked like:

And here is what was in the box, shown against a backdrop of the tissue paper it was all wrapped up in:

There was (left to right and top to bottom):

1. a little pamphlet I haven’t read yet, because I opened it twice to read it and both times it looked kind of dull

2. a pack of six scratch-and-reveal postcards, which I want to use this month for the people who signed up for a postcard subscription in the fundraiser, but on the other hand I also want to scratch/reveal each one for myself, because what if I send them off to other people and the part underneath is, like, a rude thing to say??

3. a folded-up poster I can color and then enter to win a contest, plus four markers to color it with

4. a single-page calendar card, I don’t know why

5. a Happiness Planner

I thought you might want to know more about the Happiness Planner. I personally was bracing myself for SEVERE disappointment. Like, I was expecting the Nicholas Sparks of planners. But instead I had an “Oh! That’s not so bad! Actually that’s kind of fun! Actually I kind of like this!” reaction.

You know how there are certain stages of parenting that, when you get to them, it is such a pleasant relief, and it’s the kind of pleasant relief that just lasts and lasts, sometimes for YEARS of appreciation? Like, when everyone can wipe themselves in the bathroom: I STILL think of that sometimes with happy appreciation, even though it’s been years and YEARS. Or when everyone can buckle themselves in: it’s SO NICE to just get MYSELF into the car, and I STILL notice it. Or when you can say, “Hey, go take a shower, okay?” and the child just GOES AND TAKES A SHOWER, 100% all on their own, and returns a little while later in fresh clothes with combed and almost-clean wet hair??? Or when you can say, “Dad and I are going out for dinner, so you guys should make your own dinners tonight.” !!!!!! It is amazing, it’s all amazing.

(Which. I mean. Doesn’t this lead the rational person to conclude that it would be even more amazing to NEVER HAVE CHILDREN, so you NEVER have to do ANY of those things that are such a relief to be able to stop doing??)

I would like to add another one to that list of lovely reliefs, and it is the stage when kids are old enough to make their own plans without ME having to communicate with the other kids’ parents. My poor children did not have very many playdates when they were younger, because I can BARELY STAND to communicate with other parents about plans. But now I only have one kid left where I still need to discuss things with someone else’s parents; everyone else is at the stage where my child says to me, “Is it okay if I go to Ella’s house Saturday afternoon?,” and I say “Will a parent be there?,” and they say “Yes,” and I say “Sure.” Or I’ll get a text: “Can Aidan walk home with me after school?” and I’ll text back “Sure, if it’s okay with his parents.” AND THAT’S ALL I HAVE TO DO! I only have to communicate with my OWN CHILDREN, and sometimes I can do it by text!

This information this post is based on is several years old, more than several, but I was thinking about it today. When Edward was newly diagnosed with Crohn’s disease and was about to start on immune-system-suppressing medication, he had some bloodwork done, and also a TB test. I don’t remember why things happened in the order that they happened, but the upshot is that one of the things the bloodwork showed us was that Edward’s chicken pox vaccines had NOT been effective—but we found that out AFTER he was on the immunosuppressing medication, so it was too late to get the vaccinations redone. So he’s just not immune to chicken pox, despite being vaccinated on the recommended schedule.

I was AWARE, statistically-speaking, that a certain percentage of vaccinations don’t take. But somehow I didn’t expect MY PERSONAL CHILD to be affected. He had BOTH doses of the chicken pox vaccine, and right on schedule! How can they just…NOT HAVE WORKED? And why couldn’t it have been, say, Elizabeth, or Henry, or Rob, or William, who got the vaccinations and they didn’t work? Why EDWARD, who is now on immunosuppressants and CAN’T get any live vaccines and also now ABSOLUTELY CAN’T be exposed to chicken pox, on top of everything else he has to deal with? If Elizabeth (or Henry, or Rob, or William) got chicken pox, it would likely be similar to when I got it as a child: irritating and itchy and fully survivable. If EDWARD gets it, he has to go immediately for medical treatment, and he’s likely to end up hospitalized while it plays out, and that’s the HAPPY outcome.

Luckily for us, and for Edward, MOST kids in our area get the chicken pox vaccine, despite chicken pox not being a big deal for most people. So even though it would be very dangerous if he were exposed to a case of chicken pox, that’s not likely to happen. I don’t know the last time I even HEARD of anyone around here having chicken pox. I still worry about it, of course I worry about it—but what a treat, what a relief, that it’s not something I need to worry about MUCH. People who would probably not be in danger from chicken pox are nevertheless getting the chicken pox vaccine, so the population at large is less likely overall to have chicken pox, and so the population at large is less likely to expose Edward in particular to chicken pox.

It is not a good feeling, to go through life having something dearly treasured and so completely irreplaceable be so vulnerable to common dangers. My other kids will probably go to therapy later and complain that I loved Edward best because I was so fretful and protective, and I DON’T love Edward more than I love them, but I do worry about Edward more. He is no more treasured, and no more irreplaceable—but he is so additionally vulnerable to common danger.

I got the flu once when the twins were toddlers. The nurse who gave me the flu shot that year bragged about how quickly and painlessly she gave shots—and, as she pulled the needle out of my arm (so fast! so painless!), I saw the little arc of fluid, presumably my flu shot, vaccinating the air. I remember how sick and how exhausted I was. I would put the twins into their high chairs and then collapse into the recliner to close my eyes for 30 seconds. I would put some dry cereal onto their trays, and then weep a little while lying with my cheek on the cool kitchen floor. It went on for weeks. I was so tired. It lasted so long.

But I was in my thirties, and healthy and well-nourished, and not compromised in any way other than being the already-exhausted mother of toddler twins. I could be ill for awhile, and weep a little and collapse a little and lose a few pounds, and then recover.

Edward is not in that situation. He can’t just be ill and then rest and then recover. When he got a sinus infection, he ended up in the hospital twice, surgery twice, antibiotics for seven weeks. Things that are no big deal for other people are a big deal for him. This is true too of preemies, and of babies in general, and of elderly people, and of people already ill with something else, and of people whose flu shots didn’t work, and of lots of other people in lots of other circumstances.

I think of this every year when I get my flu shot. I have Edward to think of, but also my nephew, who is particularly susceptible to respiratory things, and my mother, who is also particularly susceptible to respiratory things. Of course I don’t want to get the flu again: I HATED having the flu! But it’s not about ME, because I can get the flu normally, and recover normally; it’s about Edward, and about my nephew, and my mother, and about making sure I don’t get the flu so I don’t pass it on to them. And in a broader sense, it’s so I don’t pass it on to any of the many, many other people I might not personally/individually care about in the same way, and yet of course I don’t want to hand an elderly woman a library book and have her die of my flu germs or whatever.

The trouble is that all of us are so IRREPLACEABLE. We can’t SPARE us. And so I would go so far as to say that all of us who are ABLE to do things to protect the more vulnerable among us have an actual ETHICAL DUTY to do so: a small thing for each of us to do, but something that collectively makes a HUGE difference in the protective barriers around others—like how I don’t have to worry so much about Edward getting exposed to chicken pox, the way I would have had to a generation ago. Even Paul, who hates needles and is the babiest of all babies about shots (“That STUNG so much more than LAST year!,” he complained TWICE when we got our flu shots today), gets his flu shot, to protect Edward and to protect our nephew and to protect everyone else’s Edwards/nephews/grandmothers/babies/irreplaceables.