I am doing it. I am going to Panama, and I will be 17 days without a computer. I will be strong; my laptop will stay at home. I have a notebook, no silly, not the computer kind, the paper and pencil kind. Maybe I will turn the pages to landscape view so that I feel like I am writing across the computer screen.
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I love me some science facts. I follow ASAPScience after discovering their videos during the Olympics. Of course, there is also the IFLScience. And I wouldn't want to leave out ScienceDump. In fact it was an article and then video I found via ScienceDump that got me thinking. The article: The Size of our Solar System Submitted by Andreea on Wed, 06/11/2014 stated the following: The Solar System is really too big for us to imagine. To give an idea of how immense the number of miles from Sun to Pluto is, think of it this way: if you were going to start counting from 0 and count once every second it would take you 120 years to get to 3.7 billion. Or, if you would want to drive from Pluto to the Sun with a typical highway speed of 60mph it would take you 7000 years.
...if you were going to start counting from 0 and count once every second it would take you 120 years to get to 3.7 billion. Or, if you would want to drive from Pluto to the Sun with a typical highway speed of 60mph it would take you 7000 years. And then I started thinking about money and billionaires and wonder what I would do if I had so much money that it would take me over one hundred years to count it. Think about that next time we build in another tax loophole for the uber-wealthy. Just saying. Other thought that came to mind: must be nice...
When the winter started we immediately reinstated our bird feeder, lovingly patched with duct tape, to its strategic place outside of the kitchen window. Watching birds flit around in the winter has the same soothing effect of watching fish swim back and forth in a fish tank, and I don't have clean the tank. I can identify some of the birds by species but mostly I like seeing which niche each fills. Some eat the seeds that have made it to the ground, others come together, others wait until they have the feeder to themselves. The bird feeder came to its last day when the perfectly placed leap of a squirrel brought it to the ground and all the king's horses and all the king's men could not put it together again.
Not to be outdone, my husband went out and bought a "squirrel proof" bird feeder. I would like to say that I bit my tongue because we all know what happened next. Instead, I pointed out to him that squirrels will find a way into the feeder; that's what they do. Some day I will become a more sensitive spouse and find contentment with being right on the inside. As you already surmised, within twenty-four hours the squirrel was happily munching alongside the birds. This winter being what it was, a long one, we went through a lot of birdseed. About the same time that I was purchasing one of the final bags for the season, I was doing some research about food insecurity in central Virginia. On the one hand, feeding birds is a rather inexpensive way to self sooth. On the other hand, I started wondering if my priorities were somehow misaligned. Birds in my front yard are plump with food, and we were coming to peace with the fact that the squirrels were as well. Meanwhile someone or several someones who live very close to me are not sure if they are getting to eat. Or if they are going to eat, maybe they can't pay the electric bill. I know how to keep the birds well fed even if a squirrel or two gets in on the action, I can't say I have figured out how I can solve the latter issue. Periodic donations to the food bank, while a good thing, are a bandaid. That brings me to my #firstworldproblems list from this week (a misnomer since many so called #thirdworldproblems exist in my corner of this first world.) 1. my favorite shoes fell apart, and Think! no longer makes that style 2. filling the car's gas tank cost over $50 3. forgot my checkbook and didn't get the discount 4. the book I wanted to read wasn't available on Overdrive; I hate waiting in line 5. some of the dishes were still dirty after running the dishwasher. That's all I'm admitting to for now. When my uncle ran away the first time, he packed seven pairs of clean underwear and his toothbrush. He was determined and ready. It would have all worked out, or should have. However, when he got to the corner he remembered that he was not allowed to cross the street by himself.
My daughter thought about running away and may have even gotten as far as packing her bag. She remembered that some of the neighbors had dogs that liked to run out to greet her. She didn't like that and decided to stay put. I never wanted to run away because I was waiting for my real parents to find me. It was not possible that my parents could be as mean as the impostors who had obviously kidnapped me out of some hospital maternity ward. Instead, I stared into the mirror, vainly looking for evidence that I did not look like anyone else in the family. And I waited for someone to notice I did not belong, but not once did anyone ask if I was adopted. It came as a surprise when the police picked me up that day thinking I was a run away. I can't imagine why they thought a dirty four year old with ratty hair walking along Main Street was unusual, but they did. I knew that I was in front of my grandmother's house and that my father, uncle, and other family friends were inside. I knew that I only put my toe into the street because I was pretending to go to the store to buy cottage cheese, a food I associated with my grandmother. They didn't know all this, and I am not sure what they would have made of my story had they asked. When the police came, they told me to get into the car, which I did. The big phone inside the car was pretty cool. I don't remember being very concerned until they took me into a strange building. (My mom told me later it was the doctor's office.) In the building I was told to undress and was then put up on the check out counter -- the examining table, I realize upon reflection -- and then to dress and then to say goodbye to some strangers and was taken home. I never did get the cottage cheese. |
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