The museum is back after last month’s hiatus and the guides are eager to share about the most memorable thing I learned in science class.

In preparation, let me say that I almost skipped this month’s exhibit. You see, I was a social studies and literature geek, science and math (especially math) were subjects that were challenging for me. My initial thought on this was that I couldn’t actually think of anything I learned in science class. Womp womp. But then I toured Kym’s exhibit. And Bonny’s. And the wheels began to turn and I realized that there is something very memorable that I learned in science class.

The controlled experiment.

Here are three things you need to know about this topic from ThoughtCo:

• A controlled experiment is simply an experiment in which all factors are held constant except for one: the independent variable.
• A common type of controlled experiment compares a control group against an experimental group. All variables are identical between the two groups except for the factor being tested.
• The advantage of a controlled experiment is that it is easier to eliminate uncertainty about the significance of the results.

I think I learned this concept in 6th grade but it may have been 7th. And it’s something that I still think about often. Mostly, I think of it in terms of dismissing results because the variables weren’t controlled! But I know it comes into play when I’m making sourdough bread or pizza, when I’m gardening or even playing around with paint.

For the purposes of this month’s exhibit, suppose I want to know if my sourdough started responds better to bread flour instead of regular flour. I would separate my starter into two containers and feed one with the bread flour and one with the regular flour. And then I would treat them exactly the same otherwise . . . same light exposure, same temperature, same glass jars, etc. I would then measure the results and see if there is a difference. (Spoiler alert, bread flour is better for feeding a starter.)

That’s sort of it for my scientific knowledge but thinking about this month’s exhibit has got me thinking about science in general and how it shows up in my daily life more than I realize. And that’s got to be a good thing.

You may have noticed that I did not set up a new exhibit for the Museum of Me this month. (Okay, you probably didn’t but bear with me with this introduction, it’s a plot device.) I considered it. A lot. But the topic for this month is what I will be doing five years from now.

Ooooh boy does that trigger my anxiety. I feel pressure in my chest and shortness of breath and overwhelming apprehension when I consider the answer to that question. Not because I am afraid of the future. But because I am afraid that thinking something good will happen will actually trigger the opposite to happen. Tempting fate and all that.

Turns out there is a name for this lovely little reaction. It’s called anticipatory anxiety and it’s the fear or worry that something bad will happen in the future. Something out of our control. It’s basically anxiety about anxiety and people with this type of reaction are constantly scanning for reactions, mining for data, and anticipating the worse. Have you heard of the Sunday Scaries? That’s anticipatory anxiety. And that’s why, thinking about 5 years from now isn’t fun for me, but rather fills me with dread.

It’s me. Hi. I’m the problem it’s me.

So I’m taking a pass on this month’s exhibit in honor of my mental health. And I thought, rather than just skip it, that I’d share why just in case this is something you deal with, too.

It’s the season of gifting and in response the Museum of Me exhibit has been updated accordingly. In other words, today I’m talking about the best gift(s) I’ve ever received. To set the stage, I’m only considering Christmas and I’m only considering my childhood years . . .

It was Christmas 1972. I was 7 years old. And I got an indoor playhouse. I still remember coming downstairs that Christmas morning and seeing it set up by the fire place and instantly falling in love. It was heavy cardboard covered in printed plastic to make it look like a little house. The front side had a door with a window (with shutters that closed) next to it. There was also a window on the back and the roof had a hinged window that you could open and (spoiler alert) pop up out of to . . . surprise everyone.

It was not something I had asked for but it was perfect for me. I suggested that I could take all of my unopened gifts inside and open them from there. As you may have guessed, my mother nixed that idea. But I did spend as much time in there as I could, both on that Christmas Day and in many many days to come. I put on puppet shows. I filled it with pillows and read books. I had tea parties with my imaginary friends.

Looking back, I realize that it was the perfect gift for introverted me. I could retreat when I needed to and come out when I had to. I wish I had a photo of it but I hope I described it enough so that you can picture it. And me inside of it, happy as can be.

Thanks for visiting this month’s exhibit.

It’s time for this month’s new Museum of Me exhibit, my unsung hero. I didn’t have to think long and hard about this one because my unsung heroes are, not surprisingly, librarians.

Librarians, and I’m mostly thinking of librarians who work in public libraries, promote life long learning and are the protectors of the people’s university. They hold reading in the highest regard, of course, and are committed to matching any and every reader to the book that’s just right for them. Beyond reading, they are also promoters of cultural enrichment through arts and music, providers of free and valuable programs and entertainment, and are often trailblazers for human rights and social change .

Librarians are staunch defenders of democracy, ensuring free access to all types of information with an equal voice for all. They remain neutral, procuring and presenting materials to help individuals make their own informed decisions, while also doing ensuring that the information available is factual and accurate. They often act as teachers by instructing in the use of technology and computers, as social workers by navigating housing and healthcare and financial forms, as advocates of social justice by sharing books on human rights and personal choice, and as detectives by finding the book with the red cover that’s about 2 inches thick and tells the story of a beloved dog but the patron can’t remember the author or title.

And yet, despite all this good, the librarian is the butt of many a joke. Librarians are portrayed in movies and television as old fashioned and lacking style, as quiet and mousy, as unwelcoming and rude. These stereotypes couldn’t be further from the truth as the librarians I know are fun and quirky, friendly and welcoming, and some of the smartest people I know.

Today’s librarians are facing more challenges to books and censorship than ever before. They need our support as they hold the line against an intensely polarized political landscape. I urge you to celebrate the unsung heroes in your community: your public librarians! Tell them you appreciate them. Bring them a sweet treat. And don’t show up with a whole pile of things to photocopy when it’s 2 minutes before closing.

Thanks for visiting this month’s exhibit.

Hello and welcome to the latest exhibit in the Museum of Me Series. This month we’re showcasing what I most looked forward to about growing up. And, trigger warning, this post is a heavy one.

While for many children the dreams of being a grown up include things like staying up late, eating lots of dessert, and not having homework, for me, what I most looked forward to was a home that felt peaceful and safe.

I had a chaotic childhood fueled by alcohol abuse, financial insecurity, and mental illness. I spent a lot of time in my room, hiding from the fighting, or conversely, I spent my time trying to keep everyone happy to keep the fighting at bay. (Side note: is it any wonder I’m a people pleaser who relishes alone time and reading?) When I visited my friends I was awestruck by the happiness and lack of tension in their houses; the energy was completely different than what I felt at home. I also spent all that time away from home quietly worrying about what things would be like when I got home.

So, yeah, what I looked forward to most was having a home where things were peaceful and safe. Where I could talk about my feelings without being ridiculed, where dinners were free from tension and screaming or stony silences, where I could, quite frankly, go into the kitchen and get a snack without having to tiptoe past a grown up who might yell at me or expect me to listen to a litany of their problems. Where I didn’t have to worry about paying the mortgage and taxes and bills. A home I could walk into after being away and not have a pit in my stomach as I wondered what the mood would be like when I opened the door.

I’m happy to say that I have created that home. It took some doing on my part, some fits and starts, because you don’t grow up in that sort of atmosphere and automatically have healthy boundaries and normal reactions to stress, but with a lot of patience on the part of my husband, and some really great therapy, I’ve done it. My home is peaceful. It’s my safe haven from the world. It’s cozy and warm, mealtimes are happy, and shouting is limited to yelling at the tv during a football game.

It’s a childhood dream come true.