At the end of February, Amazon removed the ability to backup your Kindle books to your computer. To be completely honest, I had never backed up my books. I don’t own many Kindle books, and the ones I do are tracked in a spreadsheet with the receipt date listed. That isn’t really a backup plan, but I felt like I had a good sense of what was there and would know if one disappeared.

But my cousin was backing up her book, so suddenly, I wanted to back up my books. I scrolled down the list, clicking each one to back up to the computer until I started hitting books that I didn’t really care about. I mean, it’s one thing for me to decide to get rid of a physical book. That’s my choice. So I didn’t want the choice taken away from me by Kindle, but I also would never have kept these books if they were made of paper. They were part of a moment of time.

It’s funny that I’ve never looked at my physical bookshelves in the same way. I’ve gotten rid of physical books before because I didn’t need them anymore and wanted the space, but if I had infinite space (or, at the very least, more space than I have), I wouldn’t get rid of any of my books.

And here I was, willing to let go of some digital books.

In the end, I reopened my laptop and backed them up, too. I will probably never look at them again. I’m not sure I even needed to do the backup. But… the idea of not being able to do the backup or the choice being made for me felt wrong, too. They’re mine not to look at if I choose.

I wasn’t sure how I felt about the advice Oliver Burkeman gave in his latest newsletter. On the surface, it’s solid: “Make sure your psychological centre of gravity is in your real and immediate world.”

In other words, when the world is falling apart outside, recognize that while you may be unhappy with what is happening outside, stabilize yourself by paying attention to what is happening inside (e.g., “The world of your family and friends and neighborhood, your work and your creative projects, as opposed to the world of presidencies and governments, social forces and global emergencies.”)

But… the people involved in the local and global emergencies depend on those not involved to educate themselves, support those impacted, and agitate for change when necessary.

I think he meant that getting pulled down by a person who is drowning creates two drowning people; it doesn’t save one. But while he recommends “visiting” what is happening in the world and then retreating to process, gain perspective, and be productive, it also comes from a place of extreme privilege. It assumes that your “real and immediate world” is not impacted by the events of situations deemed far away.

You can hit reply and tell him what you think, but you can’t see anyone else’s thoughts, which is a shame because I think it would be an interesting discussion.

What do you think?

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.