What’s this now? She’s doing app reviews? Yes, yes, I am. Plant Nanny is this excellent free health application (iOS and Android) that encourages you to drink enough water for the day, taking two factors into account: your weight and level of activity. I used to lug a 1L bottle with me, two of those would set me right for a day. Alas, I didn’t keep it up. Coffee and lemonade (fresh) is basically what I ran on but it’s a good thing I’d quit on soda.
And honestly, I’m amazed how after all the “water is important” lectures we get from that health obsessed friend, some of us don’t seem to grasp at the fact.
Water is needed by all the cells and organs in the body in order for them to function properly. It is also used to lubricate the joints, protect the spinal cord and other sensitive tissues, regulate body temperature and assist the passage of food through the intestines.
Although some of the water required by the body is obtained through foods with a high water content – soups, tomatoes, oranges – the majority is gained through drinking water and other beverages.
During normal everyday functioning, water is lost by the body, and this needs to be replaced. It is noticeable that we lose water through activities such as sweating and urination, but water is even lost when breathing.
Drinking water, be it from the tap or a bottle, is the best source of fluid for the body. Beverages such as milk and juices are also decent sources of water, but beverages containing alcohol and caffeine, such as soft drinks, coffee and beer, are less than ideal due to having diuretic properties, meaning that they cause the body to release water
Shrubbery? Cheering on water consumption? Yes! The thing is that there’s no simple boring reminder alert but these little cartoon plants, adorably drawn, and there’s a variety to choose from. You input the amount of water you drink throughout the day by choosing from a range of cups, glasses and bottles to which you can assign a designated amount of water.
To feed your seedling just hold down on the cup/glass/bottle icon for a few seconds and you’re on your way to having a happy plant and healthy body. Be warned though, fail to drink and input makes your plant sad at first, keep it up and it will die. As you drink, your plant is growing and every time it levels up it’s transformed into the next stage until it’s an adult, after which the plant gets transferred to the garden. This brings me to the next feature.
Plant Nanny offers in-app purchases. There’s a shop where you can buy fantastic new and strange plants, beautiful pots and backgrounds, water of life (boosts growth and revives dead plants), and most importantly: seeds.
How you get them:
You need seeds to have seeds in the first place to buy anything but you get around 10 free ones when you start.
Get a single free one when you volunteer to watch an add.
Coming back to what I said earlier, when your adult plant moves to the garden, they begin to produce seeds for you, one each every day.
You can buy the seeds. They come in three sized: packet (has 100), a bag (600) and a box (3000).
I’ve had it for about two weeks now, with one fully grown Devil’s Ivy (oh, and you have the option to rename them) and right now I have a Dandelion (lv. 3). It’s so satisfying to see them change! The app accomplishes its aim of getting me to drink more water via emotional blackmail. Do you want to see these little buggers suffer and die?
No. You don’t. Naturally, I give Plant Nanny 5 Stars and I highly reccommend you give it a try.
This is a letter to you. I’ve done something to this effect before, and in those missives I thanked you for your following – though I suspect many had even forgotten that they had in the first place (and I don’t blame you). So I’ll do that again. Thank you. So much. Really, I’m continuously baffled that new people still manage to stumble over here amidst the inactivity.
In the fever of my first blogging adventures I practically lived at HC&B. Churning out two to three posts a day, some of which I cringe to think about now, and lots in which I surprised myself with. I’d been about eighteen at the time I made this website, my first one. Today, I sit here at twenty-two. These days make me yearn for high school, where I’d rather do homework than be an adult. And ladies and gentlemen, that is saying something!
To get to the point, I feel guilty on two fronts: 1) to the blog itself that gave me a chance to explore the internet with even more curiosity, to doors revealing insights and opportunities to learn from this community. I shouldn’t give up on this education.
2) to you my followers, to those who have stuck it out with me and my pretty much random content. And to the new folks who decided to give this a chance.
Look. I know I might be over dramatizing this a bit. I mean, it only takes a second to click and follow and about five minutes to forget? Still, I think it’s important.
Concerning direction, I’ve never decided on specific content matter but what I wrote about included books, poetry, creative writing, some vaguely personal insights and a smattering of miscellany. I’m seriously considering writing about shows I’m watching and the languages I’m trying to learn.
Time has always stayed the same after everything else has changed, so I can’t mint any minutes or hours, but I’ll try to get gears turning again. For me, and for those who’d taken that second to click, and those of you who come to just window shop.
He watched as if from afar as his fingers stab and stab away at the keyboard. Surely they couldn’t be his. Neatly trimmed, they look vicious and and unmerciful but yet so graceful in their ministrations.
The sigh that ripples out his chest sucks him back into his body. Surely he must be in purgatory. This knowing he’s not working hard enough, accomplishing less than he possibly could in a workday. But no matter, no matter how hard and long he abused the keyboard he get distracted and plays truant. Ruled by his own impulses. He disgusted himself.
At the end of the long day of doing mostly nothing, the tiredness that swamps him is partly shame and part anger. Tomorrow, he knows, with be identical to today, as the day before that was.
And the day before that.
Bloody hell and damnation. He snatches his hands from the device as if the thing grew teeth. Ah, the small respite from sluggish ruminations hit him like a slap, and he’s grateful. Here, hope dares to bloom and his mind whirs to life as if it had been off the whole time.
I can move forward. I can do this. Plan. I need a plan. The thoughts came in fast now. His mind is clear but it wont last for long. He had learned to move quick to climb up a new rung of the ladder. When his head would become heavy again, he’d be stuck on a new level.
Note to people who’ve never listened to to podcast: I will not tell you that you can only enjoy this book if you listen to the episodes, though it would help. From what I understand it’s marketed as a stand alone. Personally, I don’t mind if you disliked it. Only too easy to be confused and feel like an outsider. It’s a poor reflection of the podcast so please don’t let this discourage you from listening.
When I say that I felt my mind bend several times throughout the book, I am not kidding. For some reason I still can’t put a finger on, I was skeptical about the entire thing. I could suppose that I was so trained to the podcast format that the setup for novel approach was … puzzling. Who am I kidding? Honestly it fell flat for me. There. I said it.
However, I am now satisfied in several respects with regards to the plots of certain episodes. For instance I can now file the away the speculation that The Man In The Tan Jacket is not actually Cecil’s long forgotten brother.
Thanks to The Man and his stupid note, Jackie’s become irritatingly aware of the oddness of her existence. Particularly pissed because because her boring routine life has been unashamedly demolished. The order and the peace of mind it brought, gone. It should be a damn crime.
Diane is more complicated. A single mother having to try communicate with an ever distant teenage shape-shifting son is nothing at all to sneeze at. Between that growing divide is the pothole of all potholes, his father Troy.
I can’t read this right now but it’s not stopping me from showing off. I’ve been a listener for about three years now and to hold this in my hands is a wonder. For those of you who have no idea what I’m talking about Welcome to Night Vale is a free, bi-monthly podcast available on iTunes and YouTube and lots more places. It’s totally weird fiction that’s not very far from real. A place to get lost in.
I ran like the horses, swift and wild, because I am my father’s child. My breath fogs the air in fluffy puffs, feet barely touching the ground. I feel the ocean to my left, beating a deep bass pulse like my own heartbeat. ‘Mr. Brunner’ said I’d feel better now that we know where I belonged at camp, more like in the hierarchy of things. The pain will stop, he said. And it has, I suppose. But it never really does, does it?
Thrusted into the limelight, I stick out like a barnacle on a ship. Now, I just let the dawn air pierce my lungs; my legs starting to burn a little, getting too hot. That’s okay, though. With a thought, I willed a slight chill over my skin and the clouds of my breath grew denser. I could do this because I am my mother’s daughter.
Before you go further, I’d like to thank all those people who recently followed me. I mean, why? I’ve been active as a sloth in the summer (not sure how accurate that is, I know they are creepy looking and slow beyond comprehension). What I am try to say is this: thank you so much!
It’s not easy to communicate the way we feel especially to a person we trust. We worry about their opinion about us, because let’s face it it’s easy to say that ‘it doesn’t matter what people say’. I treat it as a blanket phrase. It matters when it’s someone we value, because they matter. I don’t know why I ever thought that writing about my problems should be any easier. I’ve started countless times only to scrap an entire post because I feel ridiculous and I realize just how much of a private person I am. I have read blogs where writers bare a good portion of their souls to perfect strangers and I think it’s both stupid and brave.
These days I’m hounding the scent of inspiration. It is what drives us, not only a good cause will be enough to stick to a goal; be it studying, to put in volunteer work, to work two jobs even if you don’t have to but because you think it will prove beneficial in the long run; to make your parents proud; to prove a point. We need the motivation, some of us need it as incentive to live another day, to not give up on ourselves. Let me share this quote I found:
People often say that motivation doesn’t last well. Well, neither does bathing. That’s why we recommend it daily” – Anon
I don’t admire the girl I was for the past five or six years ago, if I could I would slap her silly and tell her to grow up fast. The quicker she learned that time is running out, how very far she’s yet to go, how much she’ll suffer in her own hands; I wish I was more aware of my mortality and (ironically?) my own indifference or obliviousness, or both if it’s not already the same thing. I’m thankful that I did, at any rate. At the same time I heeded the timeless advice of learning from my mistakes, most of the time anyway. That’s progress. Continue reading “Some things I’ve learned”