Not sure what #MicroblogMondays is? Read the inaugural post which explains the idea and how you can participate too.

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Last month, I bookmarked or jotted down notes from open tabs in my phone’s browser. I wanted to bring it down to 100 tabs, though I only succeeded in bringing the open tab count closer to 150. It is currently back up at 236.

Scrolling back through open tabs is like an archaeological dig through my brain. There are the sneakers I saw a woman wearing when we picked up takeaway. (I made ChickieNob casually walk back and forth, trying to read the tag on the back.) And the bio for an artist who had a painting I liked in a gallery. And a list of plant-based fake meat products. And a recipe for Cornish pudding. If you go back far enough, you will find tabs for things I was thinking about at least 10 years ago. Things that were important enough to leave open all this time later.

I love scrolling back and seeing what was important years ago. They are snapshots of a moment in time, an hour of wondering.

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Are you also doing #MicroblogMondays? Add your link below. The list will be open until Tuesday morning. Link to the post itself, not your blog URL. (Don’t know what that means? Please read the three rules on this post to understand the difference between a permalink to a post and a blog’s main URL.) Only personal blogs can be added to the list. I will remove any posts connected to businesses or sponsored posts.

When the tree fell in the backyard, it destroyed the fence, patio, and plant. The fence is the easiest decision — get it standing again. The patio is a little harder. We will need to pay for part of the work, though we don’t know what our part will be. It’s money we didn’t intend to spend because we had a perfectly functional patio.

The plant is the biggest issue. We will need to remove the plant — it’s enormous — and it’s unclear if the cost of putting in a new plant will be covered. So if we’re paying for the new plant, we can either go with the same plant, or we have the chance to do something new with the space.

I cannot stress the size of the plant. It literally took up like an eighth of the yard.

I’ve thought about putting in a soak tub. And berry plants. And rows of tomatoes. And an apple tree. Each idea sounds good in my head until I start thinking about drawbacks, and then I return to just sticking the same plant (albeit new) in its place.

It’s sometimes overwhelming to have a blank slate to play with.

Back in 2023, I read One Puzzling Afternoon by Emily Critchley. The character eats parma violets throughout the book, which we don’t have here. Right after I read the book, I looked for them in the UK, but I never found them. I forgot about them and didn’t look for them this year.

This past weekend, we went into an expat store, and there was a display of parma violets. I convinced everyone except the Wolvog to try them the moment we left the store. The ChickieNob decided that they tasted like sugary soap and was out after a single disc. But Josh liked them, and I loved them. I sent him back into the store for a second roll.

It was such an expected happy find, all due to a story.

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Stop procrastinating. Go make your backups. Don’t have regrets.

Seriously. Stop what you’re doing for a moment. It will take you fifteen minutes, tops. But you will have peace of mind for days and days. It’s the gift to yourself that keeps on giving.

As always, add any new thoughts to the Friday Backup post and peruse new comments to find out about methods, plug-ins, and devices that help you quickly back up your data and accounts.

And now the blogs…

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But first, second, helpings of the posts that appeared in the open comment thread last week. To read the description before clicking over, please return to the open thread:

• None… sniff.

Okay, now my choices this week.

Both are about Bamberlamb, who died this month, and they’re both beautiful tributes.

I learned that Bamberlamb died from No Kidding in NZ. She writes about her friend, “She was always so eloquent, she always found the right words for the right occasion. It was a skill I often envied. But rather than envy, I tried to learn from her. To know what to say that might help, and most importantly, what not to say. I fall short, I am sure. But I will keep trying, for her.” It’s a beautiful way to not only remember someone but keep them in this world.

Lastly, The Road Less Travelled also has a tribute to Bamberlamb. (Though very strangely, she mentions Lemmondrops, and for some reason, I ended up on Lemmondrops’ blog a few weeks ago when I was Googling something and spent some time reading through old posts.). I think the part I loved the most was the ending: “There’s a saying in the Jewish community, when someone passes away: ‘May their memory be a blessing.’ In response to Bamberlamb’s death, I saw someone posting simply, ‘Her memory is a blessing’.” Perfectly said.

The roundup to the Roundup: Parma violets. Your weekly backup nudge. And lots of great posts to read. So what did you find this week? Please use a permalink to the blog post (written between Feb 21 – Feb 28) 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.

Xochitl Gonzalez got me with the dek: “Yes, New York is an exciting place, but it’s routine that weaves you into the city.”

I loved the idea of being woven into a city. You’re not just skating the surface; you’re part of the fabric. You could make an equally good case for trying new things, but as a creature of habit, I liked reading this article and having my behaviour celebrated.

Josh is an explorer. I am a stayer. He compromises by deeply exploring new things on our regular restaurant menu or trying new products in our regularly shopped-in stores. I compromise by straying from the known every once in a while (though the places found generally just become a new regular space).

The first place that works well becomes my place, even knowing there may be a better place out there. It’s because all other choices are pretty much a lateral move because I’m only going to pause and become a regular if I have a good experience, which means all other experiences are likely to be different by equal experiences. Is it possible that there is an even better choice out there? Sure. But it’s also possible that there is an even worse choice out there, and I would rather be happy in a consistently good space than ride the ups and downs of unknown spaces.

I loved this point from the article:

“From restaurants to, yes, even manicures, these transactions are now less about patronage and relationships than they are about participating in trends and getting a good pic for the’ gram.”

It does come down to patronage and relationships. I want to count on the places I love, and in turn, I want them to count on me. I will be the customer who keeps showing up, who remembers the small changes over the years, the stories we’ve told each other, or the information exchanged in passing. We’re in this together.

I read an amazing book recently, The Proof of My Innocence by Jonathan Coe, that I’ll highlight in my best books post next month. Like many Jonathan Coe books, it explores the conservative movement in the UK and the US (within a murder mystery frame), and how people are drawn to or repulsed by certain political ideologies.

But the best part of the book comes on page 168. The character is retelling a lecture he went to while at college where the lecturer makes a point about how famous pairings often stand in for society as a whole:

Here, in the comic interplay between a Laurel and a Hardy, or an Abbott and Costello, you had a microcosm of how all people interacted with one another: frustration, misunderstanding, getting in each other’s way, but also total interdependence and – in the case of the greatest double acts – real and unwavering love. Look at Vladimir and Estragon, he said – look at Laurel and Hardy; even look at Morecambe and Wise – and you see a pared-down image of a more-or-less functioning society. Human beings doing their best to get along together; unable to hide their impatience, sometimes, with the recalcitrant behaviour of their fellow earth-dwellers, but each one unable to do without the other.

The character — and by extension, Coe — continues to talk about how community has changed from that time after the Second World War to the rise of the first mobile phone:

I think people used to believe in a different kind of society. We had a model for it, back then: more or less organized, more or less functioning, held together by the belief that things should not be shared out too unequally. It was imperfect, of course, full of injustices and disagreements and bumps in the road, but above all it was cohesive: just like one of the great double acts.

Even if we didn’t always achieve it, we had a goal of moving together as a society vs. focusing on the individual and uniqueness, our personal needs, and our personal success. He traces the change back to the 1980s.

I’ve been thinking about this a lot since reading the book; it’s hard not to as you watch the dismantling of pieces of society that were in place to keep us moving forward together with equity and what happens when society becomes so fractured that we can’t find each other again?