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Six things I never imagined I would do in my empty nest

Published on by alliehajian

“Empty nest” was the dream — kids successfully launched and living their best lives, while I, responsible for only myself (very low maintenance), would have plenty of free time to live my own best life. I would spend all my time and energy towards my own goals, knowing the kids I’d spent 20 years nurturing (and worrying about) were ok on their own.

But just two months after my youngest had officially left for college, I realize my nest is not quite empty and this job is most definitely not over. Here are six random “mom” things I have done after my kids had flown the coop. Turns out each one was as rewarding as it was unexpected.

1. Take a four year old to the emergency room

I spent the last Friday of summer at the emergency vet with a very sick four year old… gecko.

Marvin is my daughter’s lizard, and we both adore him. After she left for college, I moved Marvin down to the living room so I could watch him all the time. He’s amazingly cute — rivaling any human four-year old, IMHO. He climbs around, looking about curiously, cocking his head and smiling his gecko smile. He was a ball of reptile energy and I loved it.

Then one day he started acting like a sick kid gecko, not even glancing at the tasty crickets hopping by. I knew — just like every mother who spends large parts of her day observing her four-year old in the wild knows — that there was something wrong. He was not the perky reptile I’d gotten used to eating dinner with and it wasn’t normal.

I sprung into action (my mom-reflexes are still sharp), Googled “reptile emergency vet near me” and made the call. The doctor on the phone urged me to bring him immediately, because it geckos can go downhill really fast if they don’t eat. I took a half day off work to bring him in.

Note: I know that it is a tremendous privilege to be able to take half a day off work for a six-inch reptile. No matter how cute he is, he’s “just” a lizard. But he’s super cute, and loves crawling up my shoulder. And I do not want my daughter’s gecko to die on my watch.

Waiting for six hours in a waiting room while the doctor did her stuff — x-rays, body exam — felt eerily familiar. Going home with a sick and limp four-year-old, a bag of medicine, and two sheets of instructions did, too. Ah, the joys of motherhood!

I had a lot of work-work to catch up on when I got home. But, on the plus side, I kind of felt like the time was well-spent. I feel really lucky to get to be a reptile mom since my daughter left for college. It’s satisfying to help a sick creature in need. I like taking care of him, and it felt good to take him to the doctor’s and to make sure he gets better. The way he looks up at me is adorable. So is his cute gecko smile and the way his body moves. I’m also “mom” to a beautiful ball python named Patrick. Not all empty-nesters get that opportunity.

Love is love. Maybe since I have all the pets, I don’t actually qualify as an empty-nester?

2. Coax a gecko to eat from a plastic syringe

The bag of medication I came home with included two antibiotics, to be administered once a day for fourteen days. I thought I was done with this dance. Back when my kids were young, I thought that getting liquid medicine into a toddler was hard, but I soon realized that was actually a walk in the park compared to this.

I soon found that — much like with a toddler — if a gecko doesn’t want to open its mouth, you probably can’t make him. Geckos are as wriggly as newborns, plus way smaller. I worried about breaking him — crushing or dropping him — in my efforts to make him better. That first night, I spent at least an hour trying to get the medicine into his mouth and not all over my shirt. I was a miserable failure.

But being an empty-nester, I felt a little less urgency, and a little more patience than I had when my own kids were four. I gave it an hour (went back to do some work) and the second try worked a lot better. Yeah, being a new reptile mom is just like being a new human mom.

I soon discovered the winning technique of holding him on my chest and dispensing the medicine drop by drop onto his chin so he would instinctively lick it off. It took almost half an hour to get him to eat all of it. When he did, I was so proud!

Later I Googled “how to get a gecko to take medication” and found several videos on a really good technique that made the process way, way easier. Gotta love YouTube and Google. Truly there’s nothing you can’t learn online!

3. Miss a music event because of a sick kid

As a mom, I missed out on plenty of things when someone in the family came down with a cold. There was the New Year’s Eve I cried when we had to cancel a fun evening we’d planned with another family because my daughter came down with strep throat (thank goodness no one else got it!). Or the holiday we couldn’t visit the grandparents because one of the kids came down with a fever after going to a friend’s birthday party. Or the season we didn’t ski because the six-year old broke an arm on the jungle gym at school the week before February break.

Since I never get sick, I figured these missed opportunities were now a thing of the past.
But a Saturday caring for Marvin — running out to get a new heat lamp to keep him just the right temperature, taking time to feed him his medicine, checking the temperature in his enclosure every half and hour— and catching up on work from the missed afternoon before meant I completely forgot about the all-day outside porch festival in the town next door.

After a year and a half of no performances because of Covid, I was really looking forward to it, but with Marvin on my mind, it slipped my mind until I found an open tab in my browser with the schedule. The weather was gorgeous, too.

On the plus side, Marvin is looking a lot more lively tonight. He even seemed to smile, which makes me think it was worth it.

4. Love cats

I am not a cat person. Actually, I‘m not so fond of any pets with fur. So I was almost dreading being “stuck” with two middle-aged felines while my daughter was living in a dorm.

Although I “thought” I was a cat person when I was young, I have realized that I am not, for so many reasons: I don’t think cats aren’t very interesting company; they don’t have much to talk about over dinner like the newest Netflix series they just found or their weird dreams; they are messy, and will never learn to pick up after or take care of themselves. In other words, cats are the exact opposite of empty-nester freedom.

I’d always seen the cats as annoying – collateral damage that I put up with because I love my kids and my kids love the cats.

But with both kids gone, I have come to appreciate how nice it can be to have a warm, purring cat on my lap when I curl up to watch the Kominsky Method. They’ve stopped peeing outside the litter box long ago, and they don’t meow outside my bedroom door (it’s open, they still meowed) late at night, so that helps. And since I’m the only human around, they have kind of warmed to me, too. It’s not the same as having my interesting kids around to talk to, but it’s not bad either.

5. Send a ramen care package

I mailed said package the day after my daughter called me with her first college cold. It (her cold, not the package) was a bad one. Even if not Covid (she had two negative tests), it knocked her out for almost a week. There was so much delightful communication in the few days she was sick! Way more than in the entire month previous. It energized me, spurred me into action.

She doesn’t eat chicken soup or really any soup. I figured a care package was the best I could do to help her from 1,000 miles away. And yes, the package had a few other things in it, too: an L.L. Bean mug, a get-better card, some granola bars. But the primary ingredient was ramen — lots of ramen.

She got better, so it must have worked. I now know to never doubt the power of ramen to cure. Pulling together a true care package — filled with little surprises and ramen (ramen!) — felt nice, too. And an unprovoked phone call from her on a Sunday afternoon was… magical.

6. Consider staying in Boston long term

We moved to the greater Boston area from Toronto seven years ago because of the “great” public schools. But a month in, I wasn’t so sure it was a great move, after all. The schools, the parents, the other students, they’re all too intense, there’s too much pressure, too much competition, too much privilege. In my heart of heart, I knew I wanted Maine, not Massachusetts. But we didn’t want to move the kids to another state and another school, so we/I stuck it out.

I’ve always felt like Boston was a holding place until my kids graduated from high school and I could move up to Maine.

I never found a strong friend group, and I never warmed to the area. After five years, I am still definitely not in the “I love Boston” camp. But since I’m on my own in my empty nest, I find myself reconsidering. I love my job (which I couldn’t have found anywhere else), and even though I am mostly working remote, it’s nice to be able to pop into the office (which is super nice) once or twice a week.

It’s a great location in many ways. I’m only a few hours from my parents in Maine and twenty minutes from Logan airport. I still have a lot of Boston yet to explore. I can walk to two Starbucks, and New York City is only a three hour train ride.

I’m renovating the kitchen and bathrooms in our condo and my contractor says I will not want to leave once it’s done/. He may be right. Who knew?

Is it ironic (or just human nature) that with less to force me to stay in the area, I feel less inclined to leave?

I’m looking forward to seeing what my empty nest has in store for me next!

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The beauty (and fairness) of random

Published on by alliehajian
Having been through the process (from the parent’s end) twice, I question how college admissions works. My daughter has applied to a dozen colleges, as have many (most) of her friends. You know why? They know that getting in is a crap shoot and they don’t want to be left stranded. They’ve heard the stories of people with 4.2 GPAs from magnet STEM schools who won the Westinghouse Science Fair and agonize over applications. After months of worry, they get into Harvard, only to be rejected by Yale.
It must seem pretty much random, and that’s a heck of a lot of stress and self-doubt. So why not go full random. Elite schools haven’t really found a magic number that predicts how someone will do at college. Please, let’s dispense with the pretense of meritocracy.

Here’s how random would work

Every kid gets to apply to a set number of colleges, like six. If they want to increase their odds, they can use their six spots for the same school. Every school goes through all the applicants and divides them into two groups – those that would be likely to succeed and those that wouldn’t. For some colleges, everyone who applies would be in the “succeed” group and that’s OK.
The freshman class is picked using a lottery from the pool of applicants likely to succeed. I am going to posit that schools won’t find their students any less worthy than the ones they pick now with a combination of academic hoops and some nepotism (and niche sports ability) thrown in for good measure. A longitudinal study comparing this class to other years(I love longitudinal studies!) would be awesome…

Advantages

Truly random is a beautiful thing, not to mention the right thing. There are many gems out there that get tossed aside with the system we use now. That’s not great. What’s even worse is the systemic disadvantages of entire groups of people. With this approach, all sorts of traditionally disadvantaged people would be on truly equal footing with every other applicant.
High School seniors could spend their senior year learning instead of stressing so much to impress the admissions committee of their dream college. My daughter is “done” with school – so done that she apparently has no time or energy to run marathons or practice parallel parking so she can get her driver’s license. I think if she hadn’t been working all summer and all fall on college applications, she might still have some energy left.
Everyone could get their acceptances on exactly the same day. Kind of a national celebration. In fact, maybe give seniors and their parents the day off. To celebrate or mourn.

Caveats

Of course there would need to be some tweaks. Ways to make sure that everyone who applied to college got in somewhere, for example. I am confident we’d figure out the details if we (society) put our minds to it. It’s kind of like how people graduating from med school get residencies… So, we could look at that model for a starter.
Check it out! Look more closely...
TAKE a closer look!
The NYT had this article on an experiment with a similar theme… and it turned out (shocker) pretty well!
https://www.nytimes.com/2021/02/18/us/politics/college-admissions-poor-students.html

Thoughts?

How I became a Covid vaccine guinea pig – and why’d I’d do it again

Published on by alliehajian
I’m never one to shirk a new experience. So when I saw on a work slack channel the opportunity to sign up for phase III clinical trials for another Covid vaccine, I jumped. I didn’t pause to Google the particular vaccine I was signing up for. I didn’t consider how to use the trial to “game” the vaccination system to get my shot sooner. I didn’t send the decision to my forebrain to consider the options. I sent out my resume in a heartbeat.
OK, I didn’t send a resume. Just an email. And it didn’t even include my LinkedIn profile. But I did send it out that fast.
I was as anxious as a teen applying to an Ivy League college – wanting, hoping, (almost praying) I’d get in. Was I old enough? Was I exposed enough? Was I too white, Northern European/privileged? They were signing up 30,000 people STAT and I had no red flags. Two days and two hour-long screening calls later I found myself at Beth Israel Deconness hospital getting myself weighed and indoctrinated.
Upon arrival I swapped out my personal mask for a BI-issued mask in cheery yellow. I made my way to the sixth floor research clinic and where I checked in and got a second mask – this one a familiar blue. Things moved quickly, and I waited in an exam room to meet the first of about ten researchers/nurses and staff after donning my last-but-not-least, pale red (red for research) surgical mask.
I’ve been involved with science research of some form or another for many, many decades, but a clinical trial is a special kind of special indeed. I didn’t have to take time off work, but I would have gladly traded in a half day of vacation for even just the experience of getting set up for the trial. I was so impressed with everything; the attention to every detail (all 30,000+ participants had the same thermometer for measuring our temperature each night); the thoroughness of keeping it double-blind: not even the person who gave me my shot knew if I had the vaccine or the placebo.
Anyone who thinks the people developing vaccines are in it for the money should have the chance to be in a phase III clinical trial. Every person I met was so thoughtful, so passionate about helping people. Everyone told me again and again how I was helping, how important people like me were. Everyone I met reminded me of the idealistic twenty-year-old college student I was. Every. Single. One.

Details, details

The trial I’m in is for a Novavax vaccine (see below). It’s an older vaccine technology, the sort that doesn’t need special handling and will be manufactured and distributed in countries in Africa and South America. So I feel like I am doing my little bit for the rest of the world.
The trial runs for two years or until 100 people in either the control or the placebo group come down with Covid (that’s the amount that’s needed in a trial this size to prove efficacy). If I’m given the opportunity to have one of the approved vaccines, I plan on waiting until the trial is over. Gotta love big data. So it really is kind of a selfless act.
Since my religious bent is Humanist, this is almost a spiritual act. Every night I fulfill my ritual – taking my temperature, reporting any symptoms in the app on my phone. Stay tuned for the results of the study – I’ll share as soon as I know.
You can bet if I’m offered the chance to be a vaccine guinea pig again, I will jump.

Vaccines are not the boogeyman

Published on by alliehajian

I straddle two worlds – the world of science and the world of yoga and organic food. The voices in the first are steadfast in their support for vaccines in general – and the recently developed Covid vaccines in particular. The yoga and organic food crowd, sometimes not so much. I’ve heard a lot of criticism of Big Pharma since the pandemic began. Here’s the thing, these are not the droids you’re looking for.

Vaccines are like exercise for your t-cells

When you want to grow your muscles, you lift weights. To build the most and best muscles in the least amount of time without hurting yourself in the process, you might hire personal trainer to guide you through the exercises. You would never say that exercising like this is an “artificial” way to build muscles! You would never say “well, if you want to lift something heavy, you shouldn’t build up your muscles. Just get an electric-powered lift.”

That’s crazy talk.

A vaccine is like a personal trainer for your immune system. The vaccine helps your immune system prepare to fight off a virus. It’s pretty much as natural a way of fighting illness as you can get. Yes, you could just “fight off the virus naturally” – except that viruses are very good at what they do, and too often “fighting them off naturally” doesn’t end well. Just ask relatives of the 200,000 people who died of measles in 2020 because they weren’t vaccinated.

The dangers of letting nature take its course

Viruses have evolved to trick the body’s immune system into ignoring them. Vaccines teach those T cells and red blood cells to see through those tricks and do their job anyway. In a way that might make you sick, but is vastly less likely to kill you.

Vaccines have been carefully crafted by very dedicated, very smart people to keep people from being hurt, from dying, from suffering. A vaccine is enough like the virus so your body learns to fight when a real one shows up, but not enough like the virus that it kills you. You might get a fever, or feel crappy for a few days, but that’s a pretty small price to pay.

P.S. If you want to learn more about vaccines and vaccine development, see this blog post (in Main Entrees).

Vaccines are not like that electrical lift

I understand if you’re up in arms about Big Pharma for being elite money corporate colluding to make big money off the backs of  sick people. But vaccines are not the boogyman. They’re not cheating and they’re not dangerous.

You know what is that boogeyman? For-profit insurance companies with zero incentive to lower costs, and lots of incentives to promote expensive treatments (i.e. medications) whether or not they’re effective.  Expensive drugs for chronic conditions, and a medical/healthcare system that’s set up to slap a bandaid on what ails you instead of figuring out what’s gone wrong to cause your high blood pressure/high cholesterol/name-your-favorite-ailment here.

Drugs have their place. So do lifestyle changes.

Not everything can be cured with better nutrition, more exercise, less stress. But a lot of things can. So if you’re going to beat up on Big Pharma, take a hard look at where there are other, better options. Advocate for universal health care. And doctors who have time to listen to your history and figure out what is going wrong and how to fix it. And food regulations designed to make sure what you eat is good and good for you. Get involved in and work to improve those things, for sure.

Please, don’t spend your finite energy bashing one of the most amazing miracles of modern medicine. Go get your Covid vaccine, so you can stay healthy to fight the good fight against real evils.

 

 

 

Greeting the New Year

Published on by alliehajian

What’s luck got to do, got to do with it?

I think a lot these days about luck. And randomness. When they are the same thing. When they are different. And then I happened upon this article…
Check it out! Look more closely...

The Race for the Covid Vaccine was more about Luck than Tech
This article is referring to the idea that the reason the vaccines in the US trials moved so quickly is because the rate of infection was/is so high here. That seems a bit more like irony than luck to me… Or maybe it’s another example of necessity being the foundation of invention. You be the judge.

It’s an interesting read. Side note: now do you consider yourself “lucky” to be in America in the time of Covid?

white-space

When I think about “luck” these days, I’m thinking random chance only appears to be random. My daughter is applying to a dozen colleges (literally) because she wants to be sure she’ll get in to one of the elite colleges she’s applying to. Since they all accept around or less than 10%, she’s probably applying to the right number. Getting into college today is sort of like a throw of the die. Getting accepted doesn’t mean it’s the right fit. Getting rejected doesn’t mean you wouldn’t succeed.

Getting into college is not really random

But it does seem a bit out of one’s control. And maybe that’s what we mean when we say something is “random.”

Racism isn’t random either

It occurs to me that systemic racism, which seems out of our control (now) is the opposite of random. It’s intentional. And maybe, just maybe, that means it’s within our control. Something to think about. But do read the article first.


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Tunneling to the cure

Published on by alliehajian

Science research might not seem much like digging a tunnel or building a railroad, but hear me out.

The continental railroad versus the chunnel – Did you know?

It took seven years to build the transcontinental railroad. and join the east and west coast of the USA, separated by more than 3,000 miles

The Chunnel that connects England to the continent of Europe was a six year endeavor that cost 12 billion pounds

Multiple routes to a final goal

You know the saying “many hands make light work.” It’s not exactly news that tackling a job from many angles can multiply individual efforts. The longer or harder the job, the more it helps to have all hands on deck. In the case of the railroads or the chunnel, they likely completed the task in half the time it would have taken if they’d worked on it linearly.

Science discovery often works much the same way, with different groups of scientists tackling the same complex problem from two very different directions.

For example, at the Broad Institute of MIT/Harvard, where I currently work, researchers are trying to combat antibiotic-resistance by asking genome-related questions, like “what is different about the DNA of the resistant bacteria?” Meanwhile, at Draper (where I previously worked), engineers are developing a clever device that uses engineering tricks to solve the same problem by reducing antibiotic overuse. Pairing the device with a throat swab can tell your doctor in a few hours exactly what antibiotic will be effective at treating your ills, eliminating the overuse of ineffective antibiotics that leads to resistant strains of bacteria.

Each company leverages their particular strengths in the quest for a solution.

All options on the table as a means of getting to the best option

Maybe, like me, you’re thinking: that’s obvious! When you’ve got a super tough problem, it only makes sense to try lots of different possible solutions, to not put all your eggs in one basket. That’s nothing new. It’s why the NIH gives out multiple grants for the same sorts of research.

Optimizing evolution – Communication makes things better

Here’s where the train analogy comes in. There was a lot of effort that went into making sure the two groups building the Transcontinental Railroad and the Chunnel met in the middle. Because if not, the efforts of both sides would be wasted.

How often do you think groups of scientists, working in different directions, miss each other completely – maybe because they don’t even know that someone else is working on the same problem? Instead of breaking through to match the the group working on the other side, each group just keeps on tunneling, working, studying, their own path, without ever reaching the end. That’s sad.

What would make it more likely that two groups of researchers coming at a problem from different directions would find a solution? I recently came across someone who digs into publications, collecting and categorizing similar work. Could this be a clue about a low-cost, high-impact way to improve the random-walk of science discovery??

Free communication makes things even better

There’s a lot of talk about Open Science and Open Science principles (do a Google search and start down the rabbit hole!). In order to be truly useful, science must be aware (of other efforts) as well as open.

Scammed!

Published on by alliehajian

The science of deception… and gratitude

A few weeks ago, I was scammed by two guys I met in a parking lot on my way to physical therapy. They were doing mobile repairs on another car in the lot – it seemed like a great idea to let them fix up my midlife crisis Tesla 3. We didn’t decide a price before I went to my appointment, but I saw a lot of pictures of really nicely-finished cars. When I came out and they weren’t done, I let them follow me home to finish the job at my condo. 

While there, of course, I mentioned my elderly Honda – the one with the front bumper falling off, the dents and scratches in the sides, the gigantic stains on all three seats. The one I am hoping to sell soon. Rocky and Jeff had lots of suggestions for how they could help get her sale-ready, all so convenient, so reasonable. We would settle on a fair price when I saw how much I liked their work. We chatted about the election. We chatted about forming connections in a Covid world, and in Newton (so stereotypical New England cold). We chatted about the inherent goodness of people.

Nyiri, seeing two strange guys in a truck with Texas plates in the driveway, warned me that the whole deal seemed very sketchy. I thought she was being teen-chic cynical and bought everyone Starbucks drinks. Jeff’s son, who had been sitting in their truck, walked to get them with me, and the two of us had a nice conversation, too. 

When the water-based blue paint I gave them to match the Tesla didn’t sit right and Rayleigh looked like a hack had done her bodywork, they assured me it wasn’t their usual level of quality and told me they’d fix it. The paint had been sitting in my coat closet for months, after I tried repainting a scratch myself, and besides, it was just something I bought online. Not really bodyshop quality. They gushed about how they could do a professional job if they could get their own paint. I trusted they would come back to finish the job properly, and they did. Hadn’t we talked about the importance of a strong work ethic and doing a job right? I’m not sure why I didn’t push harder when coming back to fix their mess almost doubled the price we had “agreed upon”, since they had done “hours of extra work”. It struck me as wrong to have to pay for their mistakes, but I wanted to help my new friends, and they were struggling, too, in this Covid world. 

My inner alarm bells were pretty quiet in general, even when we were “negotiating” prices and Rocky kept asking me “how much can you afford?” saying “I don’t want to make this a hardship… I just want it to be fair for both of us.” That’s a weird question for someone who’s doing bodywork on your car, right? Looking back I certainly think so! 

My alarms were quiet when they kept asking for cash payment, when they couldn’t cash a check, and when it took a full ten minutes to come back to me with a PayPal account to process. After all, I thought, they had just moved from Texas… I even joked about how hard it is for recreational marijuana businesses to set up when they’re not able to take part in the regular banking system. 

And… my Tesla looked great. All the dents and dings gone. And if it had been “good enough” as it was, I felt ok spending money I hadn’t planned on because it was an investment. I wouldn’t have to worry about rust, and I would get thousands more for the Honda because it looked so spiffy. 

I gave Rocky the benefit of the doubt when he was late coming the next warm day to finish all the Honda detailing we’d talked about that would get the car sale-ready. I knew in my heart they were good people, would finish, It was just the weather that was getting in the way. Stupid New England. 

And then we had such a nice conversation when Rocky texted me that the PayPal payment hadn’t gone through and I needed to go into my account and click the “process payment” button, then he’d be all set and would come back and finish up. 

I didn’t look up the PayPal account, or Google their names, or look up how much it would cost to have the work they did done at the dealership, or even a high-end bodyshop. I pushed the PayPal button to confirm receipt. 

You know the story ending. I never heard from Rocky or his sidekick again. 

It took a week of radio silence before I realized I’d been scammed. I Googled them and found a rap sheet for petty crimes in Texas. I looked into the cost of the work they had done and figured it was about $3,000 worth, much, much less than I had paid. I sent heart-wrenching texts (to phone numbers that probably no longer existed), expecting they would have a change of heart and give me my money back. Oh, I thought I was so clever sending $1 on Venmo so I could include a note that way. 

When I tried sending a small amount of money with a note on PayPal and got the message “this seller is not accepting payments”, my inner alarm bells did finally start ringing. Right away, I filed a claim on PayPal explaining that the “Seller” hadn’t completed the work and I was unable to get in touch with them.

It did seem so obvious, in retrospect. I’ll bet you’re thinking the same. But this post isn’t about the hollow feeling I got when I thought about how gullible I was. It isn’t about suggesting you Google people you don’t know before sending $4,500 on Venmo or $5,000 to a PayPal account that didn’t, in the end, exist for longer than it takes for them to take the money and run. This post isn’t about being scammed or how I’ll know better next time at all.

What I want to write about, what this whole event makes me think about, is human nature. After getting used to the fact that I had lost that money, the feeling I had when I woke up and got an email from PayPal that they had closed the case in my favor and I would see $5,000 returned to my credit card in 5-7 business days was joy. Relief. Calmness. Gratitude. 

Joy as if I had just won the lottery, instead of gotten back half of what I’d been tricked out of a few weeks before. 

Relief that my stupidity cost me only a few thousand dollars – and I did enjoy the conversations with Rocky. 

Calmness looking back and seeing (role playing) where I could have slowed things down and made better decisions. Where I’ll do better next time. 

Gratitude for the controls PayPal has in place to protect people like me (like everyone?) from fraud. And for Elon Musk – not only for my Tesla, but for setting up a system where justice and righteousness prevailed (at least in my case). 

And all that probably makes some sense to you, especially if you’ve been listening to podcasts about gratitude and the human mind to fill up pandemic time. But I will add that I also feel gratitude for Rocky and Jeff, the scammers. I have given up on ever getting a response to my text messages or notes on Venmo. They scammed me (which has pretty much never happened before). But they taught me something about myself. That it’s possible to be compassionate and skeptical at the same time. I’d like to think I’m a little less likely to be scammed again. 

And even though I haven’t tried to sell the Honda, I think I’ll be happy with the price I’ll get for it when I do.


Let’s blast off! the science of deception
Here’s a super cool Radiolab podcast about deception: why we do it and unusual ways to detect it: https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/radiolab/id152249110?i=1000499513408

 


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The Gratitude edition

Published on by alliehajian

Happy Thanksgiving, dear friend,

For the second time in half a century, I did not have rutabega for Thanksgiving this year. That kind of sums up 2020, right? It’s a gray, drizzly day – the kind of day that’s perfect for hanging out in coffeeshops and that I usually love so much – which only seems appropriate. Like everyone this year, I feel loss. It’s under the surface, most of the times, because, well, I have a job, my entire family is in good health, I’m white and privileged and what, really do I have to complain about?

Covid loss

But I do have pain and loss, and it comes bubbling up, as it must. For me, Covid loss is the hollow emptiness of opportunity slipping away, like the grains in a Covid 2020 hourglass. While my colleagues with young kids struggle to do the impossible – balance full-time work and full-time child care/tutoring – they also – every one – speak eloquently about how much they appreciate the extra time with family and kids. Because their kids are young enough to adore them! Enforced quarantine with Nyiri hasn’t seemed to made us any closer, or even made dinner conversations any less awkward.

2020 (lack of) accomplishments

I haven’t gotten beefed up working out to my free premium version of Nike training club. I haven’t managed to bake up any magnificent culinary delights, or “catch up” on any amazing new Netflix offerings. The stack of unread books on my bedside table is just as high as it was in January.

The gratitude parts

All the same, I am awash with joy today, as I am every Thanksgiving. I have so so much I am grateful for! I have been blessed with so many wonderful friends and family. For me, Covid has meant more connection, not less, with friends far and wide that I don’t get enough (any) chance to see in person. If you’re on this mailing list, you know who you are. You keep me going.

Mum and dad… and Maine

I am immensely grateful for my and my family’s continued good health. I’ve been able to visit my parents – despite being in that scary over-70 risk group – they’ve been in de facto quarantine up on their home island in Maine. I figured that driving there and staying put at home with them wasn’t breaking the spirit of any travel restrictions, so when they felt safe inviting me up, I went as often as I could. We’ve walked in the woods, baked, even chased a bat out of the living room together two evenings in a row. It’s been lovely. I call them much more often than I have in years. It reminds me of how much I genuinely love them. If it weren’t for the cats and the teen daughter, I would have moved up there in March. Ah well.

Kids… being kids

Speaking of health and good fortune, Krikor, living in Tennessee, is a classic case of the difference in how the states are handling Covid. I worried about him catching it and tried to get him to come back to the “safe” Northeast to work on his online school. Luckily, he managed to get Covid in a way that reaffirms his back-of-his mind belief that it’s not a big deal and definitely not worth ruining the economy over. That is to say he’s fine. I kind of wish he’d lost his taste and smell for a few months, just to learn his lesson. But I digress. He was able to come for a quiet Thanksgiving. Logan was, in fact, dead as a doorknob on the busiest travel day of the year. He cooked dinner last night AND cleaned up the kitchen after I had a momentary meltdown over ice cream (nor for the reason you might think) and disappeared for an hour on a walk. I can’t tell you how awesome it was to come back from a well-needed cry to see the kitchen clean and tidy!

The joy of a job done well

I have a job that I love, that keeps me super busy and satisfied and on time with the mortgage payments. I am grateful to be working at the Broad Institute because my boss gave me a chance despite my theory- and academic-focused non-genomics education. I can’t name a single colleague I don’t enjoy working with, and I’m doing my small part to help the world. Those are all really great feelings.

More in the joy category

The good news… I’ve got friends and family and WiFi to keep me connected even though none of you live close enough for me to see much (if ever)  in person IRL. And of course I have Starbucks chais every once in a while to make me feel like life is a little normal.

 


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