Random Thursday: Astronomical Odds, little-bitty Sunny space

Sunny’s Tiny Place:

We’re all about the Dinosaur Train at our house,* and lately Sunny had been pretending she’s Tiny Pteranodon,** who, when she gets upset or there are predators about, hides in her “Tiny Place.”

Sunny decided she wanted a tiny place of her very own to hide from her big sister predators, too.  So she built this Monday and has been spending most of her waking moments in it every since:

You can’t see it, but she has a a baby blanket, a huge stuffed sheep, a picture book, and a cereal bowlful of grapes in there.

It all fits because she’s so tiny.  Get it?

OOOOOOOOOOoooooooooooOOOOOOOOOOO

The Odds are Good, But the Goods are Odd . . .

A while back, Ali Binazir, author and Harvard man, attended  a talk  in which the speaker mentioned that scientists believe the odds of a specific individual being born as that specific individual to be one in 400 trillion (4×1014).

That number makes the national debt of the US look like pocket change.  From my pockets.

Mr. Binazir—who is clearly not at Harvard because a rich relative bribed the Governing Board***—streamlined the math in one hilarious and thought-provoking blog post, and someone made a chart from it (click to enlarge):

So . . . Should we buy  lottery tickets, or did we use up all my luck just getting here?

(Thanks to Cha Cha for the chart!)

OOOOOOOOOOoooooooooooOOOOOOOOOOO

 Mommy’s Tiny Place

 I told Sunny that I wished I had a tiny place.

“You do!” she said, and pointed.

This, according to the resident expert,  is my tiny place:

Please note that it is not safe from predators.  Or distractions.  Or random writing instruments.  Or anything, really.

My ideal tiny place looks more like this:

epic win photos - Monastery WIN

Or this (the image isn’t tiny, but the place is):

epic win photos - Cave WIN
Or even the upper level of this:

epic win photos - Home Library WIN

But I guess I’ll settle for this—because it’s bigger on the inside.  I hope:

What’s your tiny place like?

________________________________

*I can’t begin to tell you how high I have to crank my suspension of disbelief for this show.  I realize I’m not the targeted demographic, but if you decide to try this out, please for the sake of your sanity and your kids’ enjoyment, don’t start asking any questions about the train or the laying of the track or opposable thumbs or the flippin’ Time Tunnels, or what all those carnivores are probably doing off-screen.  Just let it all wash over you like an anachronistic breeze and enjoy the songs.

**I get to be Mrs. Pteranondon, which is good, because I can’t pronounce Gigonotosaurus to The Sunny’s satisfaction.

***Not that I’m implying that the Governing Board of Harvard can be bribed—or at least not until I can’t get my brilliant offspring accepted any other way . . . though hypothetically, this would entail a considerable upgrade to my pockets.

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epic win photos - Notice Notice WIN

My husband called me at work this morning.

The guy who checks out our heating system every fall discovered that our heater is cracked and leaking carbon monoxide

We usually wait for the all-clear before we turn it on, but it’s been chilly lately, so we’ve been running it for about four days.  After all, we had two children and a senior to worry about.

Yeah.

The levels didn’t set off our CO alarms, but they were getting there after only four days—and we couldn’t, after the fact, remember when we’d changed the batteries.  And it turns out that the CDC had a different idea about the placement of our alarms than the manufacturer does.

It’s going to cost us upwards of five thousand dollars to replace the unit—not including the cost of the space heaters that will be keeping us warm until next week—but we’re alive and healthy, and that’s a damned good trade for our savings account.

Two weeks ago, the newspaper reported that a local couple wasn’t so lucky—they’re still in the hospital and their beloved dogs are gone.

So please, anyone who lands on this post, even if you’re just looking for cider recipes,  earache remedies, or Damon Runyan quotes—and even if you live in an area that doesn’t get that cold right now—get your heating systems checked (or bug your landlord) and replace the batteries in your carbon monoxide alarms right now. 

If you don’t have any CO alarms, go shopping for them now or ask your family for an early Christmas/Hanukkah/Festivus/Solstice gift—or give them one.

If you can’t afford ‘em, ask your fire department or the health department of your city or county if they can help.  They’d much rather help you now than hope to save you in the future.

I’m serious, guys, and you know that doesn’t happen often.

Do it now.