Dear Kid,

I love re-reading books. I particularly like stories that I haven’t read in a while, so even though I don’t really remember the plot, they are like well-worn slippers that I slide into, comfortable in the surety that they will still fit.

I’m a fan of fiction. I have more than enough reality IRL and I (generally) choose to read fiction that is light and fun and will in no way whatsoever change the course of the world.

Right now I’m rereading the Divergent series. I remember that when I read it the series the first time, I liked it progressively less as I worked my way through the books. But I often find that with a series (do you?) and didn’t think much about it.

This time I’m reading with a slightly different eye.

Actually, I don’t know that it’s my eye that has changed so much as our national landscape has changed. It’s a scarier book this time.

I can’t help thinking about which Faction I would be in, or that you and Pi and Dad would be in different ones. I can’t help thinking that we’re living in a world where hatred within our country is running so high that the idea of a war against People Not Like Us is not as ridiculous as it should be. Nor is the idea that leaders inevitably become tyrannical out of fear and a lust for power.

On a more frivolous note, in a self-sufficient post-massive-war Chicago, they still have coffee. And guns.

Not all the factions have soda or cake. But they couldn’t get rid of the coffee.

Or guns.

Maybe it’s not really a frivolous note….

Love, Mom

Dear Kid,

Today is Old Rock Day.

I don’t know why, but it is.

I’m fascinated by the idea that there might be rocks that aren’t old. Who’s ever heard of a new rock?

For that matter, who determines what “old” is when it comes to rocks?

Q: What happens when you look up geology jokes? A: You know you’ve hit rock bottom! (I didn’t make that up.)

The oldest rock on earth is 4.4 billion years old. They know this because of birth certificate records. Can you imagine the bonfire when that rock has birthday cake?

According to My Friend the Internet, the youngest rocks are on earth are whatever is being spewed out of an active volcano.

The biggest rock on the planet is the one that was in my shoe last night. It’s amazing how our perception of size correlates directly to the length of time a pebble stone boulder is in one’s shoe.

There are probably other interesting facts about rocks, but I couldn’t dig my way through the various sites to find any that I found entertaining. You can consider this a do-it-yourself letter if you’re interested in learning more about rocks.

Love, Mom

Dear Kid,

I’ve been getting a lot of emails from my Fitbit.

Fitbit: Your Charge HR battery level is low. Charge your battery as soon as possible. To charge: 

1. Plug the power cable into a USB port. 
2. Plug the other end of the power cable into the back of your Charge HR. A progress bar should appear on the screen. 
3. A full charge can take between 1-2 hours depending on the remaining battery level.

Fitbit: Your weekly progress report from Fitbit! Great job! You’re close to meeting your step goals! Just a little more and you’ll be there!

Fitbit: You spent 45 minutes on the Elliptical today! Congrats!

Fitbit: Your Charge HR battery level is low. Charge your battery as soon as possible. 

Fitbit: Your weekly progress report from Fitbit! You went to the gym four days this week. Fantastic!

Fitbit: You’re doing an excellent job sleeping. You’re hitting your goals!

Fitbit: Your weekly progress report from Fitbit! You walked a lot this week, but not as much as last week.

Fitbit: Seriously, Your Charge HR battery is really low. PLUG IT IN!

Fitbit: You’re starting to slack off a little. What’s going on?

Fitbit:  It’s great that you decided to go to the gym today! Next time you go, let’s do more than sit in the sauna!

Fitbit:  Sleeping is great, but it’s generally better if you work out at the gym.

Fitbit: PLUG. ME. IN!

Fitbit: I have no idea what you did yesterday, because you keep forgetting to charge me. But based on recent experience, I’m guessing I didn’t miss much…

Fitbit: Your weekly progress report from Fitbit! Are you really a slug or are you just too lazy to actually charge your Fitbit?

Fitbit: I know you like wearing me because I’m purple, but I can be much more than a fashion accessory. Let’s go walk somewhere!

Fitbit: Just so we’re clear, getting up from the couch to get ice cream is not considered a workout.

Fitbit: And no, typing is not an aerobic activity. Ever.

Love, Mom

Dear Kid,

Part I

As you probably have heard by now, The Rodent (aka Punxsutawney Phil) saw his shadow and – according to the Laws of Physics and Popular Culture – thereby determined winter will never end.

If one believes in the predictive power of groundhogs (as one should), don’t put away your mittens.

Part II

You may also have heard that Our Beloved Fiona the Hippo predicted that the Eagles would win the Super Bowl.

1Q: Eagles 9; Patriots 3

2Q: Eagles 22: Patriots 12

No one predicted the crazy straddle tackle.

No one predicted all the missed kicks. Or that given all the missed kicks we’d have a rookie FG record set.

No one predicted QBs as receivers.

Everyone predicted halftime. But perhaps not quite that many set changes.

3Q: Eagles 29; Patriots 26. Wait, what?

Yep. Stay tuned.

Final:

THE EAGLES WON!!!

Eagles 41; Patriots 33.

Fiona is RIGHT!

No one predicted that we’d have so many combined points. Or so many combined offensive yards (1,152 yards – the most in any post season game ever). Or so few punts. Or that the game would come down to the last play.

Fabulous Super Bowl.

Everyone predicted that Dad would coach and ref from the couch. And talk during the commercials.

I (correctly) predicted the commercials would win.

Part III

The Puppy has accurately predicted meal time for…well, every day of his life. No surprise there.

Happy Predictions!

Love, Mom

Dear Kid,

Today is Groundhog Day! You’d think I’d be talking about that furry little rodent (or more likely, threatening him). Been there, done that, so I’m moving on.

(Mr. Groundhog, please, please don’t see your shadow!)

Tomorrow is International Eat Ice Cream for Breakfast Day.

How cool (or frozen) is that?

So instead of stressing about whether Punxsutawney Phil sees his shadow, I’m thinking about breakfast ice cream.

Coffee ice cream? Absolutely.

Chai tea ice cream? Sounds fabulous.

Peanut butter? A bit of protein is a great idea.

Scrambled egg ice cream? No, and no.

Left over Chinese food ice cream? Er, not really getting Mu Shoo ice cream.

Vanilla? Chocolate? Strawberry? Yes, yes, yes. Pistachio? Sure. Rocky Road? Why not. Moose tracks? Go for it.

In fact, I’m having a hard time coming up with ice cream flavors that would be good at some time but not good at breakfast.

Do you think Phil can be bribed with ice cream?

Love, Mom

Dear Kid,

We don’t have any figs in the house. I know this because I spent 5 minutes staring into the pantry willing them to appear. It didn’t work. We are fig-less.

Fig trees don’t have blossoms. Technically speaking, there are a zillion tiny flowers inside each fruit (you and I call them “seeds”). Regardless, they are yummy.

Or they would be if we had any.

Figs are loaded with calcium, B vitamins, and fiber, which means they are not only yummy, they are quite healthy.

The health benefits are more effective if you eat them. Which I can’t do because we don’t have any.

The early Olympic athletes ate figs as part of their training regimen. Which meant when they looked in the pantry, they found figs.

According to Pliny (he lived a long time ago), figs are not only healthful, they prevent wrinkles.

We still don’t have any figs. Not even a Newton.

I am doomed to an evening of calcium-deficient wrinkles.

Love, Mom

Dear Kid,

The subject is woodpeckers because, well, no reason really except that we were talking about woodpeckers yesterday.

There are a lot of woodpeckers in the world. About 200 species, to be specific. And you can find them pretty much everywhere as long as everywhere doesn’t include Australia, New Zealand, or Madagascar.

Woodpeckers smash their beaks into trees and logs about a zillion times a minute in order to find lunch and/or carve out a place to live. You might think all this would cause headaches, but it doesn’t (as you know). You might also think it would cause tons of sawdust and flying woodchips which might be dangerous to the aforementioned avian driller. You’d be right about the sawdust but not so much about the danger, because woodpeckers have special bristles around their nostrils designed to keep out flying pieces of wood. They also have an extra eyelid (which they can see through—how cool is that!) that helps protect and clean their little eyeballs.

Most woodpeckers have zygodactyl feet which is a fancy way of saying that shopping for shoes is beyond difficult because they have two toes facing front and two toes facing back.

Woodpecker tongues are generally about 3 times the length of their bills. Some woodpeckers have barbed tongues to help yank bugs out of tricky hiding spots. When they aren’t using their tongues, woodpeckers store them between the back of their skull and the skin at the back of their heads. Because where else would you store your overlong tongue?

Woodpeckers are generally monogamous, because how easy is it to find a girlfriend when you have zygodactyl feet and a tongue you have to store behind your brain?

In the wild, woodpeckers live between 4 and 15 years, and up to 20-30 years under ideal conditions (and by “ideal conditions” I mean treat their wives like the queens they are.

Love, Mom