Awhile back I read and reviewed Eleanor Oliphant Is Completely Fine, because there were a lot of things about that book that made me not want to read it, but then I loved it. Many people did NOT love it. If you are one of the ones who loved it, may I recommend the remarkably similar book Lenny Marks Gets Away With Murder (Target link) (Amazon link), by Kerryn Mayne? (*Searches “Is ‘with’ capitalized in a title” for the thousandth time.*)

(image from Target.com)

Whimsical title! Collage-art cover, with a woman’s full name in a larger/different font than the rest of the title! Cover flap description that dials up the quirkiness while hinting that bad things happened to children! A main character with unthinkable suppressed childhood horror/trauma, who is therefore an unreliable narrator to herself and to us—but we start figuring it out a little before she does, making us feel smart! A main character who starts out hard-to-like, and has considerable difficulty navigating social situations, but gradually we warm to her and are glad to see her finding her way into a happier life!

It is not the exact same book, but it is close enough that I think you can accurately predict whether you’ll like one based on whether you liked the other. I liked both. I was more enchanted by the Eleanor Oliphant book, but it got an unfair advantage by being the first time I’d encountered the plot. I also think the Lenny Marks book spent more time flashing back to the childhood trauma, though I could be misremembering. If you were only going to read one of the two, I’d say Eleanor Oliphant; but if you liked Eleanor Oliphant and want more books like that, then I recommend Lenny Marks.

I ordered official Harris/Walz merch on September 12th, and it is still not here. I knew the friendship bracelets were a pre-order, but even those were going to be available September 24th, and the email confirmation said things might ship separately if anything was a pre-order. It is ONE MONTH until the election, and I would think the campaign would want me to be wearing my t-shirt and pins and so forth NOW!! And the friendship bracelets have updated to say they’re expected to be available October 15th!! I still want them, they’ll be a nice souvenir, but this is getting silly.

(image from store.KamalaHarris.com)

I was going to order some Harris/Walz yard signs (in our area, there has been a sudden depressing surge of Tr*mp signs), but I don’t have confidence they’ll arrive soon enough, so instead we ordered a 3’x5′ flag from Amazon, and it will be here Monday. I know, but on the other hand: Amazon also got me my Harris/Walz t-shirt within days. There are times when I avoid Amazon, for the greater good, and there are times I calculate the greater good differently.

(image from Amazon.com)

When last we spoke on the topic of exercise bikes, I mentioned that we have been very happy with this one, which I see we ordered four years ago this month.

(image from Amazon.com)

I like how quiet it is, how little space it takes up, and also that it was only $150 (it is now around $200-225, but I’ll bet the $150 was a sale price). My one issue is that the highest-resistance setting is not very resistant at all. Commenter Kelly mentioned that she has that same bike and so does her brother, and the highest-resistance setting is VERY RESISTANT INDEED. So I asked Paul to take a look at it, and without casting any blame or telling any unkind stories, I am going to skip ahead to the part where I ask for recommendations for an exercise bike, because mine now has no resistance on any setting. I tried to use it anyway last night and felt like a right fool, my legs flailing in fast silly circles. Some of the options:

1. Get the exact same bike again. We’ve been happy with it! It’s quiet and small! It’s only $200ish! Most likely the replacement would have a working resistance dial! I wouldn’t have to think any more about this rather boring purchase! I am leaning toward this option.

2. Get a recumbent bike instead. My friend P has one, and I am looking for the way to say “and she loves it” without implying she actually enjoys riding it, because whomst among us. But she has been satisfied with its performance, and she says it is comfier on the buns than a regular bike. Downsides: she got it from a physical store; a recumbent takes up more floor space. Upsides: a recumbent is what the physical therapist had William use before and after his knee surgery (an injury, not a knee replacement), so it feels PT-recommended/approved.

I would be very happy to hear your opinions and/or recommendations. Particularly if you have a one-click-order recommendation for a recumbent bike that I can lean against a wall or something and don’t have to find permanent floor space for.

Throughout this post, I have CONSISTENTLY spelled resistance “resistence” and recumbent “recumbant.” Every single time. “Resistence” doesn’t even look right to me when I type it, and it just now occurred to me that I’m getting it wrong because my name is Kristen and I am accustomed to typing “isten.” “Recumbant” DOES look right to me, while recumbent looks like cucumbers.

Two years ago I had my very first “Why don’t you come back so we can take another look?” mammogram call-back, and in that case it was some microcalcifications, and they had me come back a third time and did a needle biopsy and said everything seemed fine. That was on the left side.

This year, another call-back, this time for “an asymmetrical area of density” on the right side. They said I would probably just have another mammogram to get some more views of that spot, but that if that wasn’t enough for the radiologist, they had scheduled me for an ultrasound right afterward, just in case. First I had the mammogram, and the technician warned me it would be “pinchier” than usual, because she was going to insert a little extra piece (about the size of a retainer case) to let her “really get up in there.” It was, yes, pinchier. She said “Sorry, sorry, breathe, sorry, sorry, hold your breath….okay, done, breathe!” for two images using the little retainer-case-sized prop, and then we did one more overall sideways view with no little prop.

She sent me back to the waiting room, and said to give the radiologist about ten minutes to look at the scans and then I’d probably be free. After about ten minutes, instead the ultrasound technician came to get me. She had me lie on my back with my right arm behind my head, and then twist my body somewhat to the left; it was more comfortable than it sounds. She spent much longer gliding the little paddle around than I’d expected; I wish I’d actually looked at a clock, since Medical Time can feel different than it is; but I was expecting, like, two minutes of paddle-gliding, and it was more like…eight? Long enough to start seeming awkwardly quiet and weird in the room, and for me to wonder how long it was SUPPOSED to take.

Then she said she would be right back, and when she returned she had the doctor with her. You should imagine Elizabeth Warren as a radiologist: that was her vibe. “Hello! Sorry!,” she said cheerfully/intensely. “I needed to see for myself!” The doctor took a turn gliding the little paddle around. She explained that there were some lymph nodes in the breast tissue, where she wouldn’t expect to see them, and that they were the mass she’d seen on the mammogram. She further explained that normal lymph nodes have a thinner outer portion, while scary lymph nodes have a thicker outer portion, and MYSTERY lymph nodes have a medium outer portion; mine are medium. The ones in my armpit are normal, but the ones in the breast, where she would not expect to see them, are medium: “plump.”

This made her want to solve the mystery, which is a drive I like to see in a doctor. She got real pointed about it, looking at them from many angles and saying to them “What are you DOING here? What do you WANT?” She asked if I’d had any sort of ANYTHING recently on my right side/arm: eczema? poison ivy? a vaccination? No/no/no.

She asked to check the other breast, saying if she found symmetry she would feel better. She did not find symmetry.

She thought aloud for a few minutes. She said “We could poke them with a needle? Take a sample? Well, but it’s not…. Or we could keep an eye on you, maybe have you come back in six months? But if…?” The technician and I, both aware we were not needed for this internal conversation, abided. The doctor wrapped it up and returned to us. She said, “Well. I can tell you it is NOT breast cancer. And of course when you hear lymph nodes you think lymphoma, but it would be very unusual, VERY UNUSUAL, to have lymphoma show up for the first time as a few rogue lymph nodes in the breast tissue, with the ones in the armpit completely normal! So I don’t know what is going on. My instinct, my INSTINCT, is to have you come back in six weeks and see what those lymph nodes are up to. We can always poke them with a needle THEN!”

And that sounded good to me, so I will go back in six weeks. I will be on Team Poke Them with a Needle, if given the option.

My library does passport processing, and we had someone there the other day getting a passport, and I wanted so badly to ask her what perfume she was wearing because it was delightful and I would want to buy a bottle (or at least try a sample). But I could not think of one single good way to ask—PARTICULARLY since I was not the one waiting on her, which adds a layer of awkwardness, but also because the whole thing seems so fraught: someone’s scent feels personal and it feels odd/personal to comment on it; if I were her, I might worry that this meant my perfume was much too strong; maybe it would turn out not to be perfume but the scent of her shampoo or lotion or something and there would be confusion over my question; etc.

I tried to think how I would feel okay being asked. A coworker did actually ask, once, and she said something like “Who is wearing that gorgeous perfume??” and then asked me the name of it and wrote it down, and that worked pretty well, though I did then think my perfume must be too strong and I cut back on it. And also, that technique doesn’t work as well between two strangers, or when you KNOW who it is who smells great. If it were a stranger asking me, I guess I’d be good with something like: “I LOVE that perfume—would you be willing to tell me what it is? I collect them.” Or maybe just “I LOVE your perfume!”—but that again makes me feel as if it must be way too strong.

Well! Nothing like getting all worked up over nothing! I wish I had just brazened it out: how bad could it be, really, even if it was awkward? Now I will never get to know what that perfume was! This is how Lifelong Swistle Quests get started!

I have scheduled my knee replacement surgery for January. When I called, I was worried they would offer, like, next week, which is not enough time for me to get used to the idea, and not enough time for my workplace to make coverage plans; plus my ideal would be to have it done after the holidays. Their first offer was Christmas Eve, which feels like the worst possible day to do it! The scheduler seemed surprised when I turned it down. Save that date for emergency surgery, my good woman!

I am following commenter Kathy’s advice to use an exercise bicycle to develop the muscles around the knees. We already had an exercise bike in the house from the first year of Covid (it’s this one, and we’ve been really happy with how quiet it is and what a small amount of space it takes up). I started with 10 minutes as Kathy suggested, and that was two weeks ago, and now I am up to 30 minutes. I could go longer, I think, but my butt gets sore and also I get very bored of riding the bike, even if I am reading a book. I may want to buy a new exercise bike, only because the highest-resistance setting is not very resistant at all (I don’t know if it doesn’t work properly or if this is truly the highest setting it’s supposed to have; I have just now asked Paul to take a look at it and see if he sees anything obvious—but we’re both pretty sure he already went through this process when we first got the bike).

I read this book on the recommendation of a co-worker whose book choices overlap mine by only the very slimmest of crescent moons (she likes thrillers that don’t necessarily have to tie up the loose ends or make sense as long as they’re page-turners, and cute gimmick romances with cute titles and cute bright-pastel covers):

(image from Target.com)

Also, this co-worker tends to recommend a book and then summarize it by recounting THE ENTIRE PLOT, COMPLETE WITH HUGE IMPORTANT SPOILERS, so that I end up feeling there is no point at all in me reading the book for myself. I checked it out only because I was about to head out on an overnight trip to pick up a kid from college, and I needed a book to read, and I was having one of those slumps where it feels as if nothing in the library is interesting or worth reading. I figured even if it wasn’t my thing AT ALL, it would still be good enough for reading while eating lunch at rest stops.

And it turned out it was EXTREMELY MY THING, and now I have read all three of the author’s other books which were also extremely my thing, and I don’t understand why I have never heard of this author before when she is so extremely my thing.

I suggest putting yourself on the wait list for this book at your library, and in the meantime seeing if your library has any of her other books. I don’t say “OH BUY THIS BOOK RIGHT NOW!,” because who knows how much OUR book choices overlap?? And because each of the books has what I would consider Distressing Themes: like, if the book were described to me, I might very well opt out (but I was glad I had not opted out). And because I get anxious at the idea of you spending money based on something I liked, when it would be completely understandable if you didn’t like it.

Also because the longer I work at a library, the clearer it is to me that (1) having a library card and (2) using your library, are two of the neatest things you can do for your community and yourself. If you haven’t been using your library and you feel shy about it, don’t! We get people all the time who say “Um…..I’ve never been here before…..” and we are SO HAPPY to see them! I can literally get little tears in the corners of my eyes about it. GO GET A LIBRARY CARD. And then try a Rufi Thorpe book and see if we overlap.

I FINALLY saw a knee doctor—and in fact, let me pause to say what specifically I mean by “finally,” here. (TLDR: After roughly 10 years. You can skip to the next paragraph.) I don’t know exactly when my knee issues began, but I know it was more than seven years ago, because it was more than seven years ago that I was having enough trouble walking that I was willing to try the keto diet to help with inflammation, in case that was the issue and in case keto could help with that. I had already mentioned the problem to my doctor at AT LEAST one annual visit and had her brush it off (yes, yes, it has occurred to me to switch doctors, and I am working on it, for this as well as other reasons) (I do love her, which makes it difficult), and my assumption is it was more than one annual visit of mentioning, because I had gotten to the point that I was willing to take a fairly drastic experimental measure on my own. It was just over one year ago that she finally did an x-ray (and only after saying for the second year in a row “Well, we COULD do an x-ray, but I don’t think that’s necessary”—but that second time I was ready for her, and cut her off after the word x-ray and said “Yes, let’s do that! That sounds good! Yes!”), and she added that I could try turmeric, or maybe glucosamine & chondroitin, or a periodic regimen of ibuprofen. It was two months or so ago that she did a second x-ray and said it was time to see an orthopedic doctor. It was only today that I saw an orthopedic doctor. That is what I mean when I say finally. It has been some time. My guess is that it has been roughly a decade of knee issues.

I was stressed about the visit, in part because I thought there might be a long path ahead, or a lot of treatment options. That he might say, “Well, we could do THIS with THIS percent chance of success, or we could try physical therapy and then maybe cortisone shots, or I could give you a referral to this OTHER specialist, or we could…” etc. Or I thought he might say, “You are only 50! It is far too early to do anything about this. Come back in another decade.” Or I thought he might say “If only you had come in ten years ago, we could have done something, but unfortunately now….” Instead he said, “You have Very Bad arthritis in that knee: it’s bone-on-bone at this point. You’re like a car with a tire that’s riding on its rim. We COULD do cortisone shots, but those will fix nothing: they will add no ‘tire’ to your ‘rim,’ they will only give you some pain relief from the rim hitting the road. The only real option is knee replacement.”

Well. Well. Well. Well. Well. Okay. Okay. Yes, okay.

HERE ARE MY PRIMARY CONCERNS:

• I feel I should have a better primary concern, but actually the “no showering for two weeks” after surgery is pretty paramount. But, Edward once couldn’t shower for a few weeks after surgery, and we figured it out. We got some “body wipes”—bigger/clothier than diaper wipes. In Edward’s case, because of the surgical location, we couldn’t use dry shampoo, but I will be able to use dry shampoo. Maybe I can even wash my hair in the sink, once I can stand up long enough. This could be the incentive I need to cut my hair. (It is getting overlong, but as it gets longer and longer I get more and more reluctant to cut it. Plus, I’ve had recent success forming an artfully messy bun.)

• The set-up of our house. Beds and shower are all upstairs. Couch and recliner and TV and half-bath and kitchen (including nice big sink for hair-washing) are downstairs. Would I…somehow get myself up the stairs right after surgery, then not come down for a couple weeks? Or would I set up a sleeping location downstairs, since I can’t take a shower for two weeks (!!) anyway?

• “Someone coming to my house to do physical therapy for the first two weeks” also gives me considerable stress, but I think I will calm down about that as soon I’ve had time to adjust. In fact, I think I am already calming down. I know they don’t care what my house looks like. I know they travel from house to house on purpose, and that I am not inconveniencing them by needing them to come to my house. I am already feeling better, and like this shouldn’t go on the list of primary concerns. I am leaving it here because it was initially a big source of surprise and adrenaline.

• “Missing work for who knows how long” is stressful. I like my job and my co-workers; I know it’s pretty difficult when I’m out. I know they can figure this out, especially with advanced notice, AND that it’s not my job to figure it out—but it still makes me feel stressed. I asked the doctor how long I’d be out and he said it really varies, but certainly I’d be back…wait, what DID he say? Four weeks? Six weeks? Three months? My brain did not record the information. I know he said that after two weeks I would be able to leave the house and go to the physical therapy location, instead of having someone come to my house. But that doesn’t sound like I’d be anywhere NEAR back to work. He digressed into things I wouldn’t be able to do for awhile, such as kneeling, and said things that didn’t apply (like that I’d be able to sit at a desk), and I’m not sure we ever got to a time estimate. My lingering impression was that it would be around six weeks, but that it varies.

• The TIMING. He said it takes about three months to recover. When should I…schedule that? Certainly not over Thanksgiving/Christmas. January through March, maybe? Although then my parents mentioned it might be better to do it while the kids were home over winter break, to have more people to do my bidding. Also, Elizabeth is qualified to cover my library shifts, if she’s willing. I wonder if I would get a cortisone shot in the meantime? I have heard from more than one person that the cortisone shot was one of the most painful things they’d ever experienced (one friend said she was braced for the pain and still literally screamed, but that was in her shoulder), but maybe it wouldn’t be, or maybe it would be worth it? Or maybe I could just continue on as I have been.

• The timing with THE PRESIDENTIAL ELECTION AND INAUGURATION AND ALL THAT POTENTIAL CHAOS.

• I have never had physical therapy but William had it, so it doesn’t seem TOO scary to me—but I have had repeated trouble in the past following in-person verbal instructions for physical things. Like, if I KNOW what they’re going to ask me to do (“scoot down a bit, to the edge of the table”), I have no trouble; but if I don’t know ahead of time, it’s harder for me to understand/do it. I’m a little worried about this. But presumably I can SAY SO to them. Also, presumably they will get used to me, and I will get used to what they are going to ask me to do.

• Of course all the long-odds things. Infection. Blood clot. Repeat surgeries. Losing the leg. Unexpected death on the table. Etc.

Other thoughts:

He said I will need an assistive device at first, like a walker or a cane. This is interesting to consider, and something I have never shopped for before.

I wonder if this means that inflammation was/wasn’t an issue? I guess I don’t know how any of this works. It DID seem that when I was taking days off of keto, my knees (and other joints) hurt more—and not, like, I wondered if they would hurt more and I paid attention and it seemed that they did, but more like it happened repeatedly that I thought “JEEPERS, my KNEES today, and also my KNUCKLES and ANKLES, what is WITH this??”—and then remembered I’d had two days in a row off keto.

Does this mean the Osteo Bi-flex (glucosamine chondroitin) I’ve been taking for a couple months is USELESS? I guess, again, I don’t know how any of this works.

He said the fake knee will last 20-30 years. I am 50. My grandparents lived to be 80-87ish. Well, that is going to have to be a worry for another day.

He said that after the knee replacement, I should not plan on doing much running or jumping. He said if a bear is chasing me, sure, but otherwise, don’t start either of them as new hobbies. I wasn’t planning to, and yet I feel anxious about this. When I used to walk more vigorously for exercise (currently I have to limit it to shortish strolls), I used to do little 30-60 second intervals of jogging, just to increase the intensity/challenge; can I do that little amount of running, or no? Can I do 30 seconds of jumping jacks and 30 seconds of running-in-place as part of a strength-building/keeping routine? Is he maybe just saying, don’t get so excited about your new knee that you start training for marathons? I will need to ask more questions of the doctors and physical therapists, I guess.

He said I will have a little CLICK in my knee, always, after the replacement. This is interesting.

I hope it goes without saying that if you have any knee-replacement information, I am hanging on your every word.

I don’t know if you are aware, but there is a whole THING about “breathing correctly.” I have read one (1) book on the topic, so now I am ready to tell you. (Also, I can tell you that if you read such a book, you will feel the entire time as if you can’t quite catch your breath.)

1. Breathe ONLY through your nose. ONLY THE NOSE. NOT THE MOUTH. THE MOUTH IS THE POISON BREATH. YOU WILL DIE IF YOU BREATHE THROUGH YOUR MOUTH. EVEN WHILE VIGOROUSLY EXERCISING. HOW ARE YOU NOT ALREADY DEAD, WHEN I’VE TOLD YOU IT WAS POISON AND YET YOU HAVE BEEN DOING IT FOR DECADES.

2. Except if breathing out. You can breathe OUT through your mouth if you want. That’s fine.

3. Breathe slow and shallow, or possibly slow and deep, or maybe it was slow and shallow on inhale and slow and deep on exhale. There were some mixed messages. Approximately five in/out breath-sets per minute is pretty ideal, all the ancient religions say so.

4. You know how you think you breathe for oxygen? Actually what you want is the carbon dioxide, which you may remember is the stuff you think of yourself as breathing OUT. Or I guess you want both? I was a little unclear.

5. You breathe TOO MUCH. All Americans do!! It’s like how you EAT TOO MUCH. You just BINGE on that air. You FEAST on it. You OVERINDULGE. You’re DISGUSTING AND GREEDY, and it makes you FLABBY WITH AIR. Things that are vital to your existence are things you should be depriving yourself of. Depriving yourself will feel bad, which is how it is SUPPOSED to feel.

6. You can tape your mouth closed at night, so that you won’t accidentally breathe through your mouth. This is the best tape. Yes, I have ordered the tape. No, I have not yet tried it, because the idea of taping my mouth shut at night freaks me right out. Yes, yes, I did order it though. (Paul tried it last night, and said it worked perfectly with just a one-inch strip on the center of his mouth.)

7. I skipped the second half of the book, where he was like “These are the REAL good breathing methods, but also be careful because if you do them wrong you might accidentally give yourself brain damage and/or die.” Just, skipped right past all that.

Why did I take this book out of the library, you may be asking yourself/me. It’s because I am noticing that my heart is doing the weird thing it did last election, where it kind of flippers around, especially if I’ve had any caffeine. I’d thought a book on breathing might be helpful/soothing.

I think one of the reasons I was distressed by recent photos of myself is that the photos made it clear how silly I’m being with some of my little potions and rituals. Here I am, using a nice anti-aging face cleanser, and then carefully applying toner, and then the anti-aging daily moisturizer—and making sure with each product to put the extra onto the backs of my hands. Using a special acid formula once a week before bed. Making all these tiny, possibly imaginary differences, that from three feet away are utterly invisible, if they even exist at all. No one is going to even be able to TELL if my eye wrinkles have decreased by 5%. Meanwhile here I am fussing away, spending both the time and the money.

Well. I have soothed myself by realizing that Everyone Already Knows What I Look Like. These photos are surprising to ME, but not to ANYONE ELSE. Because EVERYONE ELSE can already SEE ME—and from more angles than I’d want to explore. To them I look absolutely normal and Like Myself, just as they all look absolutely normal and Exactly Like Themselves to me. Their dear faces and forms! I would not notice if their wrinkles or stomachs had decreased by 5%, nor would I care!

Noticing how we’re all aging during the menopause transition has caused me to notice What’s Next for us: it doesn’t stop at the wider tummy and the greying frizzing hair. My sister-in-law and I were discussing how we’ve both recently even found ourselves doing some distressing Age Math. Like: how many more years can we reasonably expect to live, even if all goes extremely well—that kind of math. And I wonder what we will lose on the way! Teeth, mobility, sight, hearing, breathing, THINKING. People who live to the “if all goes extremely well” point are not typically still living with all their original functions. I have also been having those sudden “I am actually going to die, and the only question is HOW WILL IT GO DOWN” thoughts. Not like I didn’t have them before, but now they feel realer/nearer. Several of my former friends/classmates have already died. I feel like we’re gradually filling in a dark little spreadsheet: this one got pneumonia and the hospital couldn’t stop it; this one had a heart attack; this one, cancer. There’s my little empty spreadsheet cell, waiting.

I WONDER IF WE COULD FIND A MORE CHEERFUL TOPIC. Oh, hey, have you bought any U.S. presidential election MERCH yet? I wanted to buy an official (i.e., sold by the campaign) t-shirt, but found all the choices boring—and almost entirely men’s cut, even the cat-lady ones. Inspired by local friends who are at this point curating little COLLECTIONS of campaign t-shirts, I finally chose this one as my first:

(image from Amazon.com)

It has the happy, cheerful vibe I was looking for. It looks black in the photo, but I ordered it in navy. (If you click through, it’ll revert to the men’s cut and the black color, which I find annoying.) I found one I liked even better, with daisies, but it said KAMALA/WALZ and I don’t like the mismatch. I don’t mind using first names, but we are not going to use first names for woman and surnames for men, not on my t-shirt.

An amusing number of the shirts on Amazon say Harris/Waltz. The one I bought has Walz on the shirt, but the listing title says Waltz: I was very alarmed when I got my purchase confirmation!

Also, I have filled out my calendar with the election countdown. I don’t want to be thinking about it constantly, but I do want to easily know how many days are left. I put a tiny number in the top corner of each day. Sixty-six days left, if I didn’t mess up the numbers. (Do say so if I’ve messed up the numbers.)

We are bringing the twins back to college, and I am not WORSE than I was their freshman year, but it’s close. For one thing, when we dropped them off freshman year, it’s not as if I didn’t already appreciate them as Beloved Household Members, but I didn’t appreciate them as much as I appreciated them after they were gone and then I had them back home again. And now they are leaving again, and I already know how much I will miss them. And also because I have seen how Rob, now age 25, was a member of our household and then he went to college and now he is gone and living elsewhere and we hear from him only very infrequently, and only when he feels like it and not when we feel like it, so I am thinking of that as well. It is difficult to avoid becoming a GRASPING sort of person, when they keep just SLIPPING AWAY like LITTLE FISH.

Then of course there is the additional layer of worry about Edward and that situation. My primary worry is not that the semester will result in another batch of D’s; that would be fine, and then we’d know, and then we could then figure out what the options were from there—and there are plenty of options left. I have mentioned that I am lucky enough to have had several friends and co-workers go through this situation with their kids before I had to go through it with my kid; and each time, with each kid, each friend/co-worker chose the “one more semester Just To Be Clear” plan and, each time, as the friend/co-worker of the parent in question, with no skin in the game, I felt that was Right, and Good, and I was glad they’d chosen that plan. And I feel right/good/glad about that plan for Edward, too, whether it ends in A’s or F’s or somewhere in between: the plan is to TRY THIS AND SEE WHAT HAPPENS AND THEN WE CAN GO FROM THERE, if you see what I mean, and I know from the comments section that many of you don’t, which likely means some of the people in my daily life also don’t. I am cringing already, imagining the semester not going well and how many people might think “SEE?? WE KNEW IT WOULDN’T WORK!!!,” without realizing what the plan was, or that it DID work.

But my REAL concern is that Edward will not see this plan the same way we do, and that Edward will see this as some sort of IF YOU FAIL, THAT WAS YOUR LAST CHANCE AT SUCCESS gladiatorial arena, and that Edward will see the D’s/F’s coming in and will resort to Acts of Despair—rather than seeing this semester as one more scientific input for our spreadsheet, helping us to see what the next plan should be. That is my real fear. Oh OF COURSE I have said so to Edward, EXPLICITLY, but do you remember being 19? Me neither, but I remember just enough about being 19 to be worried. I remember adults saying a lot of things that seemed oblivious/stupid/clueless. Hey, do you remember adults telling you to Be Yourself, and to not change who you were just to impress someone you wanted to date, because then even if you succeeded in your ruse, the person wouldn’t be dating The Real You? And back then I was like, “Um, yes, thank you, CRAZY CLUELESS WEIRDO, but THIS GUY doesn’t WANT to date The Real Me, so clearly?!?! this is my only chance at success!!!” And I would have looked them right in the eye and been absolutely confident that they were the stupid one.

Anyway. Last year I was buying the extra-long sheets and the mattress pads and the desk lamps and the towels and the shower caddies and the shower shoes; this year it’s more just replenishing the trail mix and the body wash and the deodorant and the floss picks and so forth. There is less to do but just as much to worry about.