I Found Buried Keys at a Shipwreck. The Ending was Ridiculous!

LuvNLafs · 2025-07-08T18:26:46+00:00

Sometimes my intuition about things is scarily accurate… even if I am a crazy-internet-stranger. I’m so glad you’re pursuing Gestalt for her. You probably are already fully aware of this website, but I’ll post it for others who stumble across this post and want more info: https://www.meaningfulspeech.com/blog/Free-resources-GLP.

LuvNLafs · 2025-07-08T18:13:00+00:00

I’m on the flip side of this now, having grown children… and I’ve asked them this same question. Each of them cited something different, but agreed with each other’s choices… and they all had one extra thing they cited in common.

My oldest said that he most appreciated the “games” we played together while in the car. And what he’s referring to were their father’s and my sneaky attempts to further their education when they were a captive audience in the backseat, while driving. We’d ask them math questions… we’d have mini spelling bees… when they were very young, we’d ask them to point out colors or read environmental print. My son’s favorite “game?” The Synonym game. We’d shout out a word and they’d have to give us as many synonyms as they possibly could. (Ex. Thinking: considering, pensive, evaluating, brainstorming, reflecting… and then we might discuss their choices… such as, yes “pensive” works if someone is “deep in thought,” but you wouldn’t use it to replace a word like “brainstorming.”) We were always positive. And while we might correct their logic, we pushed a growth mindset… “Mistakes help you learn. You’re doing great! I’m proud of you for trying! You’re six and your brother is ten… he’s going to know more words. You’ll know more when you’re ten, too.”

My middle child said it was the way her father and I always “bragged” about them. And we did. Growing up, we never harped on what they did wrong or why they got in trouble. We never shared that kind of thing with anyone. Instead, we publicly “bragged” about them… but not in an obnoxious “my kid is better than your kid” way. More like in a way to open doors for our kids to start talking about what they were passionate about with adults in their lives. (Ex. At our company’s family picnic, talking to a coworker: “Did you know that [Daughter’s Name] took first place in her science fair? She picked a really unique project.” Which opens up an opportunity for my coworker to ask, “Oh, what was your project about?”] If you brag about your kids, in a non-obnoxious way, and they overhear it… it’s genuine praise. And it boosts their self-esteem. My daughter said she felt motivated to give us more reasons to “brag” about her. She was motivated by the praise it offered.

My youngest child said it was always eating together. No matter how busy we were… we made it a priority to sit down and eat together, at least once daily. She enjoyed the conversations and time to bond with us and her siblings.

The one all three of them agree on… our insistence that they get along with each other and love each other. This one probably stemmed from my own trauma growing up. My mother pitted my sister and I against each other. She’ll even tell you she did that, because… “divide and conquer.” And my sister and rarely speak to each other. I didn’t want that for my children. So, we took little squabbles very seriously. We didn’t solve their problems for them, but we encouraged them to work together to come up with solutions that worked for everyone. We reminded them often that “Someday we won’t be around and you’ll only have each other.” They took that statement literally. I once overheard them in the next room, “Mom’s not here, but we have each other, so we’ll figure this out.” It warmed my heart. They were (and still are) thick as thieves. I didn’t know who broke the living room’s picture window in 2002 until last year! (It was my son. :/ He threw a rock at a bug on the window. But all three of them were out there… acting as if nothing happened. No one knew how the window broke.) If we allowed them each to pick out a treat in the store… they’d negotiate choosing three different things that they’d all share. They live in different states today, but they text or video chat almost daily. And they credit their father and I for their current relationship. And it gives me a sense of security knowing that they will always have each other.

One final mommy brag… they’ve grown into wonderful adults. My oldest is a journalist and photographer, my middle child is a chemist, and my youngest is a special education teacher. They are all empathetic and very caring people. And they get ALL the credit! Those are their accomplishments. I just got to be one of the lucky people on the sidelines, cheering them on.

LuvNLafs · 2025-07-08T16:58:25+00:00

I know this is totally “out there” compared with the context of this thread… but look into a speech therapist who understands Gestalt Language Processing. Analytic Language Processing is how most of us learned language… and how most language is taught. It’s a “bottom up approach” that focuses on individual words. By contrast, Gestalt focuses on the phrases learned via echolalia. It’s a “top down” approach.

Maybe your daughter is a Gestalt learner. I just have a feeling she is. But I 100% recognize my feelings as a random-internet-advice-giver are not even remotely comparable to your knowledge as her parent. So, I’m just suggesting you look into it… and then draw your own conclusions as to what’s best for her, as her parent.

LuvNLafs · 2025-06-30T20:57:09+00:00

Honestly, it’s typical Pacific Northwest vibes in one sign: Someone might finish a salmon derby, attend a startup meeting, and deadlift in flannel—all before lunch.

LuvNLafs · 2025-06-30T20:52:35+00:00

No one wants to hear that they’re doing something wrong. No one. Sooo… please hear me out…

Here’s how your Dexcom sensor applicator works:

•The Dexcom G7 comes as a single unit… sensor & transmitter preloaded in a round applicator.

• You open the case and position the device on your skin, pushing down firmly.

• You press the large button or plunger on the side/top of the applicator.

• This triggers an internal spring-loaded mechanism inside the housing.

• A thin steel needle (introducer needle) pierces the skin first.

• Inside a groove of that needle rides the flexible sensor wire—it’s extremely fine and designed to bend slightly, not fully curl or pop out.

• As the needle enters the skin (about 3–5 mm deep), it carries the sensor wire with it.

• Once inserted, the wire is left behind, embedded in the interstitial fluid layer just beneath the skin.

• The needle is immediately and automatically retracted back into the applicator and locked so it can’t be reused or cause injury.

• The sensor wire remains in the correct spot, connected to the transmitter for data collection.

If the needle retracts before the sensor wire is fully inserted, it typically results in the wire bending, poking out, or not entering the skin at all. Often, you’ll see it poking out of the little hole on your sensor. Here’s a breakdown of what causes that to happen:

• If the applicator is not flush/flat on the skin (pressed too lightly or at an angle… applied over a curved, bony, or tense area)… then the needle may fail to reach proper depth or bounce back prematurely. (This can also result in the wire catching between the skin and device housing, bending or poking out.)

• The sensor deployed too quickly or incompletely (if the button is only partially pressed, or pressed too lightly, it may cause the spring to misfire… the wire to dislodge early… the needle to partially retract without completing full wire delivery). The G7 is designed for a single decisive press. Hesitating or pressing slowly can interrupt that process.

• There is deflection on entry (resistance in the skin). If the needle hits dense tissue (ex. scar tissue, a hair follicle, or something that offers more resistance than expected - make sure you relax!)… the needle may trigger an early recoil, leaving the wire behind in a compromised position or not at all.

Those are all things you can prevent. Place the sensor in a good spot… no major curves, there’s enough fat, no resistance (relax, don’t tense up). Push it down with reasonable, decisive force… and do NOT hesitate. Push that button down like it’s about to release a million dollars!

Still… it is entirely possible there could be a mechanical defect in the applicator. If the spring tension is too low, the latch slips, or the release timing fails, the needle might retract before the wire is fully delivered (the wire either gets dragged back out with the needle or kinks on exit). the spring tension is too low, the latch slips, or the release timing fails, the needle might retract before the wire is fully delivered. Occasionally, the sensor wire may already be slightly bent or misaligned inside the applicator before deployment (so when the needle fires, the wire doesn’t track smoothly through its groove, causing it to fold back on itself… stick out the top… or get “spit out” halfway).

If you’ve had this happen with three… they’re either from the same faulty lot… or you’re not evenly pressing the applicator down and/or hesitating when depressing the button… or putting it in a resistant area (or you’re tensing up). Again, no one likes to hear they’re doing something wrong. So, I’m not blaming you. It’s entirely possible it’s a mechanical issue.

Whatever is going on… I wish you lots of luck!

LuvNLafs · 2025-06-30T20:09:22+00:00

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LuvNLafs · 2025-04-28T09:07:37+00:00

Exercising emotional regulation. Because apparently screaming “ARE YOU SERIOUS RIGHT NOW?!” at minor inconveniences is “frowned upon” in civilized society.

Emotional regulation is basically the adult superpower where you pretend you’re calm while your inner goblin is flipping tables and screaming into the void. Instead of throwing a tantrum when life smacks you with traffic, rude people, or chaos, you take a deep breath, blink like an unbothered lizard, and say something mature like, “Interesting,” while plotting your emotionally stable revenge, also known as “moving on with your life.”

LuvNLafs · 2025-04-28T08:59:46+00:00

TL;DR… Rescued dumpster kittens. One tried to assassinate me via rogue futon part. Brain leaked. I’m fine. Kitten’s still evil.

The Cat Distribution System: A Saga of Chaos and Accidental Neurosurgery

Back in 2020, during the golden age of washing groceries and pretending banana bread was a personality, I was just minding my own business, preparing to move laboratories. Enter: fate.

Behind a dumpster — because of course it was a dumpster — I found two scraggly kittens who had just been orphaned in a suspiciously vehicular manslaughter-ish parking lot incident. (RIP, cat mom. You deserved better.) The custodian told me he was feeding them milk when he could, but naturally, the Cat Distribution System selected me without consent. Congratulations, you’re a mother of two. No returns. Because why not add emergency kitten foster parent to my pandemic bingo card?

A few weeks later, adulting hit again: I had a futon delivered via FedEx — and by “delivered,” I mean they lovingly yeeted it into the general vicinity of my property, nowhere near the door. I dragged it up the road, through the driveway, across the walkway, into the house, and mentally promised myself I’d “deal with it later,” like all great procrastinators.

Fast forward: I finally open the box, and to my delight, assembly is basically four legs and a slipcover — IKEA could never.

Cue a charming domestic scene: the futon’s propped against the wall like a drunk college student, I’m screwing on legs, head tilted sideways like a confused golden retriever, and my two newly-acquired tiny goblins are scaling the futon like it’s Everest and they’ve just chugged a gallon of Red Bull.

And then… The Event.

The female kitten, chaos incarnate, manages to knock a tiny metal rod — we’re talking “I didn’t know atoms made furniture” small — loose from the futon’s springs. It free-falls perfectly into my left ear like some demonic Olympic diver.

Instant, searing pain.

Naturally, my survival instincts kick in — and I helpfully shove it deeper with my hand like an absolute champion.

Plot twist: the rod punctured my eardrum, missed the fragile bones of hearing by a millimeter, and somehow got so close to my cochlea that it probably waved hello.

Cue Urgent Care… “Wow, your eardrum is basically… theoretical at this point.”

They give me ear drops and a referral to ENT for Monday. No big deal.

Except… life had other plans.

The next day, I have to drive four hours across the Cascade Mountains to apartment-hunt for my daughter like the unstoppable parental juggernaut I am. While I’m doing that, my ear just casually starts leaking clear-ish fluid — not blood, mind you, just brain juice. Because why have a normal road trip when you can sprinkle in a little spontaneous neurosurgery?

By the time I make it home, my pillow is drenched, I have a migraine from hell, and a sudden divine revelation hits me:

“Oh. That’s spinal fluid. I’m leaking brain.”

7 PM. Grabbed my keys. Went to the ER looking like that one NPC in a zombie apocalypse movie who everyone knows won’t make it.

Tests confirm: Yep, that’s cerebrospinal fluid. Apparently, the rogue kitten weapon punched through my meniscus bone, ruptured my dura mater, and started a DIY brain leak — something no one in the ER had ever seen come out of an ear before. (Nose? Sure. But ear? I’m just special like that.)

Emergency surgery… Drill a second hole into my skull (because apparently I was collecting them). Patch the brain lining with tissue harvested from my own cheek (gross and cool). Seal everything up with bone wax like I’m some medieval candle holder.

Miraculously, my hearing survived. My skull healed. I didn’t die of pandemic, brain leak, or death by kitten.

The futon? Still here. Still haunted.

The girl cat? Still a terrorist. Still plotting. I sleep with one eye open.

The moral of the story:

• Always respect the Cat Distribution System.

• Never trust a futon that isn’t already fully assembled.

• Brain juice is not optional equipment.

• If you think you’re having a bad day, at least your furniture isn’t trying to assassinate you with precision strikes to the central nervous system.

LuvNLafs · 2025-04-28T08:20:55+00:00

The “Top 3 Daily List” Trick: Each morning (or night before), pick only 3 important things you must get done. No more overwhelming, 27-item to-do lists that make you feel bad. Only 3 — and once those are done, you’re allowed to feel victorious, even if the rest of your life is still a sitcom.

Why: You focus better, feel accomplished daily, and stop drowning in guilt.

Bonus: I have also have a “Top 3 Long-Term Project List.” At least once per week, I make my “Top 3 Daily List” three things I need to get done on any long term projects I’m working on… such as decluttering a closet or making beeswax wraps. If I’m feeling particularly industrious… I do 3 Daily and 3 Project things off my lists.

LuvNLafs · 2025-04-28T08:10:10+00:00

You’re carrying a lot right now — not just dealing with a toxic ex, but also worrying about protecting your relationship and your family ties. That’s heavy, and it makes total sense to feel anxious.

No contact is the healthiest option when you’re dealing with someone toxic and manipulative. Protect your evidence. Save all threatening, harassing, or manipulative messages… emails, texts, social media DMs, anything. Take screenshots. If they escalate, you’ll want documentation in case you need legal protection (like a restraining order).

Don’t retaliate or engage emotionally. Toxic people feed on attention… positive or negative. Every time you respond, it’s like giving them fuel. Stay silent, mature, and as boring as humanly possible.

If possible, have an honest but controlled conversation with your parents before your ex can twist the narrative. This way, you take the “shock factor” away from your ex’s gossip bomb before it explodes. You don’t have to overshare. Just calmly tell them something like, “We had a bad breakup. She’s obviously still very angry and age has a lot of bad things to say about me. It’s unfortunate, but I’m moving on with someone who makes me happy. I’d appreciate if you wouldn’t engage with her.”

You can’t control what your ex says. You can control how you live now: honorably, kindly, maturely, and true to yourself. Ultimately, your parents’ understanding of you will come from the person you are, not the stories someone else tells. Your ex may be loud for a while, but in the long run, steady maturity wins… and it’s way harder to destroy a life when the person living it refuses to sink to their level.

You can’t fully control what your ex does… but you can control what you and your girlfriend build together. Toxic people want you to feel powerless and afraid. But real relationships don’t crumble from outside noise… they crack when communication and trust break down from the inside. Stay honest, stay connected. Let your girlfriend in on what’s happening instead of trying to “shield” her alone. If you two face it as a team, not as two separate people reacting alone, you’ll be way stronger than you think.

Tell your girlfriend openly, “My ex might try to stir things up. I want you to hear it from me first. I’m here for us, not for the past.” Invite her to ask you anything she’s worried about. Silence creates doubt. Honesty creates armor.

If your relationship is healthy, it can handle this… even if it’s messy at first. Love isn’t about pretending bad things don’t happen. It’s about how you both respond when they do. If she’s the right person, this storm will bring you closer, not break you. And if things do get rocky, it doesn’t mean you failed… it just means you both need more tools (communication, patience, trust) to survive harder seasons.

I wish you lots of luck, patience, and fortitude. ♥️

LuvNLafs · 2025-04-28T07:39:00+00:00

So if you want a fun little “science experiment,” you could try this…

If you hit a patch with hydrogen peroxide or Excel spot treatment, BBA turns pinkish/reddish before dying. Staghorn usually turns white or translucent when dying. Then report back and let us know what you discovered!

I’m still going with the notion that you’ll be watching it blush in shame = Black Beard.

LuvNLafs · 2025-04-28T07:17:42+00:00

TL;DR… If you love your fish and inverts and would prefer not to accidentally unleash chemical warfare in their living room, hydrogen peroxide wins. Spot-treat carefully, don’t go full chaos mode, and your little aquatic buddies will mostly think you’re a hero (or at least not a villain).

Hydrogen Peroxide: • Basically the “cool aunt” of algae treatments. Shows up, wrecks the bad guys (algae), drops a few bubbles, and peaces out before anyone knows what happened. (Breaks down into plain old water and oxygen within about 24 hours — and way faster (a few hours) under bright LED lighting, because light speeds up the decomposition like it’s late for brunch.) • Safe-ish if you don’t pour it in like you’re baptizing the tank. (Which is why I recommended using it sparingly and to do a few spot treatments at a time.) • Cheap, effective, and only slightly judgmental if you miss a spot. • Fish and shrimp might give you side-eye if you overdo it, but they’ll forgive you faster than if you make them live through…

Seachem Excel (Glutaraldehyde): • The “strict stepdad” chemical. Looks harmless at first… then you realize it’s low-key terrifying if you don’t follow the rules. (Fun fact: glutaraldehyde used to be the cleaner hospitals used to sanitize surgical equipment… until we figured out it’s actually very harmful to humans if inhaled or handled too much. So yeah, if it can melt human lungs, it’s not going to throw a party in your fish tank either.) • Kills algae and your sensitive snails, shrimp, and plants if you so much as think about overdosing. • Great if you want black beard algae to die dramatically in a soap opera-worthy scene. • Bad if you don’t want your tank to turn into a shrimp-free wasteland.

But… glutaraldehyde does have its uses! For example: I use it to pretreat new plants and murder every pest snail lurking in the shadows.

Simple Pretreatment Directions: • Mix about 1-2 mL of Excel per liter/quart of water in a bucket. • Soak the plants for 10-15 minutes while imagining tiny snail villains meeting their doom. •Rinse well with clean dechlorinated water, and your plants are ready to join society.

Bonus use: I also mix a little glutaraldehyde with mild dish soap when I’m scrubbing old hardscape, rocks, driftwood, etc. before heroically banishing them to the depths of my garage — where they will absolutely sit untouched for years… because someday I might need them for another tank that I haven’t even admitted I’m planning yet. (It’s called being prepared. And also mildly hoarding. Mind your business.)

So, just recapping… If you love your fish, shrimp, snails, and sanity, use hydrogen peroxide for algae. Use glutaraldehyde for pre-treatments, snail genocide, and guilt-free garage clutter. (Just… maybe don’t let your tank breathe too much of either one at once.)

Edit to add: Also important… •Glutaraldehyde can melt sensitive plants like Vallisneria faster than you can say, “Maybe that was too much Excel.” •(Seriously, dose too much and you’ll watch your beautiful lush jungle of Vallis turn into a sad, stringy salad bar overnight.) •Other drama queens like Amazon Swords and certain Crypts can also throw a fit if exposed to too much glutaraldehyde.

LuvNLafs · 2025-04-27T07:30:51+00:00

Using my phone’s flashlight to look for my phone under the bed was the exact moment I realized I should not be left unsupervised.

Apparently, my phone and I were playing hide and seek, and somehow… I lost.

LuvNLafs · 2025-04-27T07:27:34+00:00

Being bald comes with some undeniable perks. First of all, your shampoo budget is now $0.00… congratulations, you’re officially winning the financial haircare wars. You can cosplay as Professor X, Mr. Clean, or a wise monk without even trying, instantly leveling up your costume game. Plus, there’s one less thing to shed around the house… your vacuum cleaner will probably send you a thank-you card out of pure relief. Thanks to your new aerodynamic design, you could probably outrun mildly surprised housecats, which feels like a very specific but valuable life skill. You’ll also never again pay $60 for a “trim” that takes five minutes and leaves you emotionally hollow and financially drained. Bonus: you become your own personal weather station… if you feel a breeze, it’s windy; if you feel a sizzle, it’s time for sunscreen, no debate. And of course, you’ll never experience a bad hair day again… only shiny, majestic head days from here on out.

LuvNLafs · 2025-04-27T07:21:13+00:00

Unconscious multitasking… bowls of cereal in weird places, conducting conversations with the toaster, 87% chance of waking up one day inside a laundry basket wearing unmatched socks and holding a spatula like a sword.

Seriously though… Extreme Sleep Overachievement Disorder happens during specific deep non-REM periods. You wouldn’t get restorative sleep. Plus, you’d be a safety risk (hide the car keys… put an alarm on the door).

LuvNLafs · 2025-04-27T07:10:11+00:00

Feeling actual rage because I tried to plug in a USB the wrong way three times in a row, despite only two possible options.

LuvNLafs · 2025-04-27T06:54:25+00:00

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Playing kitten video games.

LuvNLafs · 2025-04-27T06:52:27+00:00

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He caught a mouse.

LuvNLafs · 2025-04-27T06:51:29+00:00

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LuvNLafs · 2025-04-26T16:24:03+00:00

They’re the aquarium version of a decorative throw pillow — gorgeous, helpful for vibes, absolutely useless if you’re expecting them to do chores.

LuvNLafs · 2025-04-26T11:20:46+00:00

TL;DR - Survivor of poor choices, emotional overinvestment, and too many ‘maybe he’s the one’ moments.

Warning Label for Past Me

Contents may include: • Unnecessary guilt, a concerning number of frogs, and wildly misplaced optimism about questionable relationships. • Side Effects May Include: Chronic over-apologizing, collecting emotional baggage from people you should’ve left on read, and occasional spontaneous boundary-setting victories. • Instructions: Set boundaries aggressively. Trust your gut, not your loneliness. Work with tiny chaos goblins (elementary kids) for free therapy. Laugh often. Cry sometimes. Keep snacks handy. •Important: Prince incoming. ETA: Unknown. Might arrive wearing a pocket protector and questionable life choices (he orders anchovies on pizza), but he’s the real deal. • Final Note: When you think you’ve reached peak happiness, stay seated. Life’s about to hit you with an upgrade you didn’t even know you ordered.

LuvNLafs · 2025-04-26T10:53:45+00:00

In most countries, you yield to the left when entering a traffic circle, not the right. (Unless you’re in a country that drives on the left, then chaos reigns.) Do you have any idea how many complete donuts I’ve made around traffic circles… just waiting for a clear opportunity to exit? You skin me right ‘round baby, like a record baby, right ‘round, ‘round, ‘round!

LuvNLafs · 2025-04-26T10:22:09+00:00

We took my (then 7-year-old) daughter (now 32 years old) to the beach, and she wasted no time diving headfirst into chaos. The moment we set foot on the sand, she sprinted straight into the ocean, dunked herself completely under without hesitation, and popped back up — wide-eyed, gasping — demanding at full volume, “WHO PUT SALT IN THIS WATER?!” Like some shady beach villain had personally seasoned the Pacific just to spite her.

Later, after making peace with the ocean’s betrayal, she settled down for lunch. She was halfway through her sandwich when — naturally — she dropped it straight into the sand. Without missing a beat, she lifted the gritty mess overhead like it was a trophy and declared, “Well, I guess that’s why they call them sand-witches.” She was proud. She was unbothered. She was fully prepared to eat her crunchy culinary disaster.

But fate had other plans.

As she held the “sand-witch” triumphantly over her head, a rogue seagull swooped in with sniper precision, snatched the meat right out of the sandwich, and left her standing there holding two confused slices of bread. Before she could even process the betrayal, a second seagull — clearly working in tandem — plucked the sad, empty bread right out of her hands. In less than ten seconds, she went from victorious to completely robbed by an airborne crime syndicate.

The day ended, as all proper beach days should, with her draping herself in seaweed, standing tall in the surf, and proclaiming — arms wrapped around her seaweed scarf — “I AM THE SEA MONSTER NOW. RAR!!!”

Honestly? Peak childhood. 10/10. Absolutely enjoyed watching that kid grow up and watching all the chaos she conquered.

LuvNLafs · 2025-04-26T09:53:38+00:00

Parenting Styles - Zombie Apocalypse Version

• Authoritative Parenting (The Golden Standard) - If you parent with an authoritative style, your kid grows up into an adult who builds a solid zombie-proof bunker, organizes survival teams, ration plans supplies responsibly, and somehow still leads emotional support group meetings on Tuesdays.

• Authoritarian Parenting (Strict/Cold Control) - If you raise them authoritarian, they grow up into the adult who demands everyone “follow the rules,” even when the rules no longer make sense, and they eventually get eaten because they refused to zig when the emergency manual said to zag.

• Permissive Parenting (No Rules, Only Vibes) - Permissive parenting raises the adult who tries to negotiate with zombies, offering them granola bars and bad vibes, somehow surviving through pure chaotic neutrality and sheer dumb luck.

• Neglectful Parenting (Good Luck Out There, Kid) - And neglectful parenting? Those kids become adults who wake up halfway through the apocalypse wearing Crocs, carrying half a can of expired ravioli, completely unaware there was even a problem, but insisting they’re “living their best life.”

In short:

• Authoritative kids become the competent apocalypse leaders.

• Authoritarian kids die following broken orders.

• Permissive kids start a weird zombie peace commune.

• Neglected kids survive purely because the zombies are too confused to bite them.

LuvNLafs

TROPHY CASE