Rancho Cordova police deputies deliver baby (Released)Police Deputy Praised After 'Run-of-the-Mill' Call Turns into Emergency Baby Delivery
Rancho Cordova police deputies deliver baby (Released)What does your musical taste say about your personality and lifestyle?
Adrian North, Curtin University
I’m quite used to receiving abuse concerning the content of this column, but in contrast my previous post (about why fans of heavy metal shouldn’t have been banned from a pub) seems to have caused some interest in what one can infer from somebody’s musical taste about their personality and lifestyle.
The simple answer is an awful lot! In 2010 I surveyed 36,518 people about their liking for 104 musical styles and their personality. Self-esteem was highest among fans of blues, funk, jazz, classical music, opera, and rap, but lowest among fans of heavy metal, indie, and punk.
The most creative fans were those who liked jazz, classical music, opera, and indie, whereas lower creativity was linked to liking for easy listening and chart pop. The hardest-working fans were those who liked country and pop, whereas those who regarded themselves as relatively lazy tended to like funk and indie.
The most sociable and outgoing fans were those who liked funk, country, rap, and dance music, whereas more reserved people tended to like classical music and heavy metal. The gentlest people in my sample liked opera, easy listening, and heavy metal, whereas the most headstrong tended to prefer dance music, indie, and punk. The most nervous fans were those who liked chart pop, whereas those who were most at ease with themselves preferred blues, funk, jazz, classical music, and heavy metal.
Links between musical taste and people’s more general lifestyles are also manifold and wide-ranging. Factors concerning money, education, employment and health tended to show that those who like high art music are wealthier, better educated, and in higher status jobs. Fans of jazz, opera and classical music in particular seem to lead blessed lives with the highest income, and greater access to financial resources (e.g. several bank accounts, credits cards, and owning shares in companies).
This greater wealth means they also spend more on food than others, and prefer to drink wine. As an academic, I might also add that this wealth is probably because they were more likely to have a Masters degree or PhD; and it is interesting that they are also more likely to give something back to the community by doing voluntary work.
But income and education can’t explain all the differences between the lifestyles of fans of different styles. Fans of opera and jazz were more likely than most to vote for right-wing political parties, but this conservatism was shared with country music fans. Similarly, despite their typically right-wing voting habits, fans of classical music and opera were among the most likely to favour development of green energy sources, whereas fans of hip hop and R&B, despite their radical counter-culture stereotype, were happiest with the fossil fuel status quo.
What is also interesting about these findings is the extent of overlap between those who like musical styles that are, on the surface, very different. Country and classical music fans overlap considerably in everything but their income, in reflection of a shared conservative worldview; and opera and heavy metal fans also united on more than just their love of dramatic music, as they share similarly creative and gentle personalities.
So someone’s musical taste does tell you a lot about them, but as these examples show, many of the stereotypes of the fans are nothing more than that. Moreover, the gross differences between fans that do exist in terms of, for example, income and conservatism, express themselves in some very specific ways in everyday attitudes and behaviour.![]()
Adrian North, Head of School of Psychology and Speech Pathology, Curtin University
This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.
Juice cleanses, charcoal supplements and foot patches – is detoxing worth the hype?
Katie Edwards, The Conversation and Dan Baumgardt, University of Bristol
January arrives with a familiar hangover. Too much food. Too much drink. Too much screen time. And suddenly social media is full of green juices, charcoal supplements, foot patches and seven-day “liver resets”, all promising to purge the body of mysterious toxins and return it to a purer state.
In the first episode of Strange Health, a new visualised podcast from The Conversation, hosts Katie Edwards and Dan Baumgardt put detox culture under the microscope and ask a simple question: do we actually need to detox at all?
Strange Health explores the weird, surprising and sometimes alarming things our bodies do. Each episode takes a popular health or wellness trend, viral claim or bodily mystery and examines what the evidence really says, with help from researchers who study this stuff for a living.
Katie Edwards, a health and medicine editor at The Conversation and Dan Baumgardt, a GP and lecturer in health and life sciences at the University of Bristol share a longstanding fascination with the body’s improbabilities and limits, plus a healthy scepticism for claims that sound too good to be true.
This opening episode dives straight into detoxing. From juice cleanses and detox teas to charcoal pills, foot pads and coffee enemas, Katie and Dan watch, wince and occasionally laugh their way through some of the internet’s most popular detox trends. Along the way, they ask what these products claim to remove, how they supposedly work, and why feeling worse is often reframed online as a sign that a detox is “working”.
The episode also features an interview with Trish Lalor, a liver expert from the University of Birmingham, whose message is refreshingly blunt. “Your body is really set up to do it by itself,” she explains. The liver, working alongside the kidneys and gut, already detoxifies the body around the clock. For most healthy people, Lalor says, there is no need for extreme interventions or pricey supplements.
That does not mean everything labelled “detox” is harmless. Lalor explains where certain ingredients can help, where they make little difference and where they can cause real damage if misused.
Real detoxing looks less like a sachet or a foot patch and more like hydration, fibre, rest, moderation and giving your liver time to do the job it already does remarkably well. If you’re buying detox patches and supplements then it’s probably your wallet that is about to be cleansed, not your liver.
Strange Health is hosted by Katie Edwards and Dan Baumgardt. The executive producer is Gemma Ware, with video and sound editing by Sikander Khan. Artwork by Alice Mason.
Dan and Katie talk about two social media clips in this episode, one from 30.forever on TikTok and one from velvelle_store on Instagram.
Listen to Strange Health via any of the apps listed above, download it directly via our RSS feed or find out how else to listen here. A transcript is available via the Apple Podcasts or Spotify apps.![]()
Katie Edwards, Commissioning Editor, Health + Medicine and Host of Strange Health podcast, The Conversation and Dan Baumgardt, Senior Lecturer, School of Psychology and Neuroscience, University of Bristol
This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.
At 67,800-years-old, These Handprints Just Discovered in Indonesia Are Oldest Example of Rock Art


Your sense of self is deeply tied to your memory – here’s how
Shane Rogers, Edith Cowan University
You might say you have a “bad memory” because you don’t remember what cake you had at your last birthday party or the plot of a movie you watched last month. On the other hand, you might precisely recall the surface temperature of the Sun any time when asked.
So, is your memory bad, or just fine? Memory is at the very heart of who we are, but it’s surprisingly complex once we start looking at how it all fits together.
In fact, there’s more than one type of memory, and this determines how we recall certain facts about the world and ourselves.
How do we classify memory?
Cognitive psychologists distinguish between declarative memory and non-declarative memory. Non-declarative memories are expressed without conscious recollection, such as skills and habits like typing on a keyboard or riding a bike.
But memories you’re consciously aware of are declarative – you know your name, you know what year it is, and you know there is mustard in the fridge because you put it there.
However, not all of our memories are stored in the same way, nor in the same place in our brains. Declarative memory can be further broken down into semantic memory and episodic memory.
Semantic memory refers to general knowledge about the world. For example, knowing that cats are mammals.
Episodic memory refers to episodes of your life, typically with elements of “what”, “where” and “when”. For example, I remember cuddling my pet cat (what) in my home office (where) just before sitting down to write this article (when).
A sense of self-awareness is strongly involved in episodic memory. It’s the feeling of personally remembering.
For semantic memories, this sense is not as strong – you can have detached knowledge without the context of “how” and “when”. For instance, I know that Canberra is the capital city of Australia (semantic memory), yet I can’t remember specifically when and where I learnt this (episodic memory).
Lessons from amnesia
In the mid-20th century, famous case studies of amnesic patients were the early evidence of this distinction between semantic and episodic memory.
For example, Henry Molaison and Kent Cochrane both experienced brain damage that severely impacted their episodic memory abilities.
They couldn’t recall events from their lives, but knew many things about the world in general. In effect, their personal past had vanished, even though their general knowledge remained intact.
In one interview after the accident that caused his brain damage, Cochrane was able to describe how to change a flat tire in perfect detail – despite not remembering having ever done this task.
There have also been reports of cases of people whose ability to recall semantic memories is largely impaired, while their episodic memory abilities seem mostly fine. This is known as semantic dementia.
Your age affects how your memory works
Young children have both memory systems, but they develop at different rates. The capacity to form strong semantic memories comes first, while episodic memory takes longer.
In fact, true episodic memory ability may not fully develop until around the age of three or four years. This helps explain why you have scant memories of your earliest childhood. We gain greater self-awareness around the same age too.
While episodic memory ability develops more slowly in early life, it also declines more quickly in old age. On average, older adults tend to remember fewer episodic details compared to younger adults in memory recall assessments.
In older adults with more severe cognitive decline, such as dementia, the ability to recall episodic memories is typically much more affected, compared to semantic memories. For example, they might have difficulty remembering they had pasta for lunch the day before (episodic memory), while still having perfect knowledge of what pasta is (semantic memory).
Ultimately, it all works together
Brain imaging studies have actually revealed that overlapping areas of the brain are active when recalling both semantic and episodic types of memories. In a neurological sense, these two types of memory appear to have more similarities than differences.
In fact, some have suggested episodic and semantic memory might be better thought of as a continuum rather than as completely distinct memory systems. These days, researchers acknowledge memory recall in everyday life involves tight interaction between both types.
A major example of how you need both types to work together is autobiographical memory, also called personal semantics. This refers to personally relevant information about yourself.
Let’s say you call yourself “a good swimmer”. At first glance, this may appear to be a semantic memory – a fact without the how, why, or when. However, recall of such a personally relevant fact will likely also produce related recall of episodic experiences when you’ve been swimming.
All this is related to something known as semanticisation – the gradual transformation of episodic memories into semantic memories. As you can imagine, it challenges the distinction between semantic and episodic memory.
Ultimately, how we remember shapes how we understand ourselves. Episodic memory allows us to mentally return to experiences that feel personally lived, while semantic memory provides the stable knowledge that binds those experiences into a coherent life story.
Over time, the boundary between the two softens as specific events are condensed into broader beliefs about who we are, what we value, and what we can do. Memory is not simply a storehouse of the past. It’s an active system that continually reshapes our sense of identity.![]()
Shane Rogers, Senior Lecturer in Psychology, Edith Cowan University
This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.
It’s hard to describe what it feels like to become a mum, but it has a name: matrescence
Dylan Nolte/Unsplash
Belinda Eslick, The University of Queensland; Fabiane Ramos, University of Southern Queensland, and Laura Roberts, Flinders University“Completely life-changing”. “Nothing could have fully prepared me”. These are the sorts of phrases you often hear from women when they become a mother.
These descriptions can point to the complexity and depth of the experience. It can be joyous and stressful, exhausting and euphoric, profound and mundane. It’s unlike any other life transition, and – try as we might – hard to capture in words or short phrases.
It turns out, though, there is a word for this process of becoming a mother: matrescence.
It’s a simple but powerful concept that’s changing the way we think about mothering. Here’s what matrescence means and how the concept can help mothers and those supporting them to navigate and understand this time of life.
Where did the term come from?
The term matrescence was coined in a 1973 essay by medical anthropologist Dana Raphael to describe the transition to motherhood. Raphael found most cultures had rites of passage that recognised “the time of mother-becoming”. However, Western countries such as the United States and Australia tended not to.
These practices, which vary depending on the cultural setting, have something in common. They acknowledge that, like adolescence, becoming a mother is a complex experience that brings a period of learning and transformation.
Raphael also coined the term “patrescence”, which, while not the focus of her study, recognised that fathers and other parents also go through a period of transition.
It would take decades, but matrescence made it into the public consciousness in 2017 in an article and widely-viewed TED Talk by reproductive psychiatrist Alexandra Sacks. Books, podcasts and media coverage have abounded since.
What changes during matrescence?
Most public discussion of matrescence still tends to centre the challenges of mothering, for example postpartum depression and anxiety.
But there is increasing interest in the many kinds of changes experienced in matrescence, such as dramatic brain changes or the phenomenon of microchimerism, where foetal cells from pregnancy can remain in the mother’s body, and vice versa.
Research on these phenomena matter not just scientifically, but philosophically.
Other body changes include powerful hormonal changes in pregnancy, birth, and postpartum. There’s also research looking at how having children and breastfeeding can reduce the risk of breast cancer.
Much of this research is emerging, which is unsurprising given historical and ongoing medical misogyny.
More than physical changes
Mothers can also experience significant shifts in identity, including changes in personal values, new priorities, or a sense of loss for other parts of themselves.
Mothers encounter new social dynamics and peer groups, too. The new social identities of “mother” or “mum” (or the markers “working mum” or “stay-at-home mum”) introduce new expectations, norms and ideals.
Relationship dynamics with partners, friends and family can shift significantly.
Mothers can also experience an expansive new relationship with their baby, though this might be sentimentalised or downplayed by others.
Other new emotional experiences, ranging from intense love and gratitude to “mum guilt” and “mum rage”, can arise, too, sometimes leading to maternal ambivalence.
New sensory experiences such as breastfeeding and physical contact can lead mothers to feeling overstimulated or “touched out”, but can also bring joy.
Women also take on a new political and economic identity when becoming mothers. In 2025, mothers are often expected to remain ideal workers in the paid workforce, sometimes navigating a return to paid work while caring for an infant and performing the bulk of crucial unpaid reproductive household labour and care.
This juggle can lead to maternal burnout and negative impacts on mothers’ wellbeing.
This all contributes to the “motherhood penalty” – the well-documented, entrenched and persistent economic injustice experienced by mothers.
Matrescence is a term that helps to capture the breadth of these experiences in all their enormity and complexity.
The oppression of ‘motherhood’
Matrescence doesn’t happen in a vacuum. As Raphael’s original essay showed, it’s shaped by many cultural, economic, and political factors. It’s not the same for every mother.
In her 1976 landmark feminist study on mothering, North American writer and poet Adrienne Rich made the useful distinction between the experience of mothering and what she described as the patriarchal institution of motherhood.
It was the institution of motherhood, Rich argued, that oppressed mothers, not mothering itself. The flipside of this argument was that a liberating motherhood was possible under different conditions.
Feminist scholar Adrienne Rich distinguished between mothering and the institution of motherhood. Colleen McKay/Wikimedia Commons, CC BY-SAWhen it comes to matrescence, the institution of motherhood in Western societies like Australia tends to sideline the experience of mothers, and the transition to motherhood is still largely experienced in isolation and silence.
Often, a focus on the baby overshadows the maternal-infant relationship or the needs of the mother, with many new mothers feeling unsupported or invisible.
New mothers are also often expected to live up to the “good mother” ideal by being totally self-sacrificing or naturally competent at mothering.
Societal norms can overlook the transitional and transformative period of matrescence, with mothers urged to “bounce back” – either by returning to a “pre-baby” body shape or by promptly getting back to paid work in the same capacity as before giving birth.
These experiences are exacerbated by a range of factors, including class, race, partnered status, sexual orientation and life stage, among others.
How does matrescence help?
While the concept of matrescence has become popular among some mothers and those working in maternal wellbeing, wider awareness of the term and the many changes new mothers experience is important.
For mothers, just knowing the concept can help by normalising what they might be experiencing. It can also help those who are pregnant or considering having a baby to prepare for motherhood.
But it can also help us to recognise that becoming a mother is not just a matter of flicking a switch, but a long and profound process of change that requires supportive conditions.
For individual mothers and families, this might mean friends and family offering to provide food or household help (rather than visiting just to hold the new baby).
Collectively, it means broader social changes, including changing cultural attitudes and better social, economic, and health policies to support mothers and families. These should recognise that when a baby is born, so is a mother.![]()
Belinda Eslick, Honorary Research Fellow, The University of Queensland; Fabiane Ramos, Lecturer, University of Southern Queensland, and Laura Roberts, Senior Lecturer in Women's and Gender Studies, Flinders University
This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.
What makes a song sound ‘Christmassy’? Musicologist explains
Samuel J Bennett, Nottingham Trent University
Within the first notes of many classic Christmas songs, we’re transported directly to the festive season. Why is it that it’s these particular pieces of music that get us thinking of the holidays?
In his book Music’s Meanings, the popular music researcher Philip Tagg explores the ways in which we as listeners construe the music that we hear. Tagg applies semiotics, the study of how we interpret signs in the world around us, to music. These signs may be viewed differently by different people and may change their meaning over time.
To illustrate this concept, Tagg cites the example of the pedal guitar, originally drawn from Hawaiian musical tradition and carrying connotations of the islands. Eventually this instrument found its way into country music, so successfully that Tagg argues at this point, we are likely to immediately think of country music when hearing the instrument, without the concept of Hawaii ever crossing our minds.
As the pedal guitar may place us immediately within the realm of country music, there is one instrument that will likely do the same for Christmas – sleigh bells.
Sleigh bells
From light orchestral pieces such as Prokofiev’s Troika (1933), right through to Ariana Grande’s Santa Tell Me (2014), sleigh bells have long acted as convenient shorthand for composers to tell their listeners that this piece belongs to the Christmas canon.
The reasons for this link stem from the non-musical world. We associate Christmas with the winter season and snowy weather. Sleighs, through their use as transport in such weather, developed a direct associative link with Christmas, and as a result, so did the bells used to warn pedestrians of their approach. As with Tagg’s pedal guitar example, we’ve reached the point where we generally link sleigh bells directly with the concept of Christmas, rather than thinking of the intermediary idea of the sleigh at all.
There’s a link to the wider instrument family of bells too. Through the practice of churches ringing out their bells, particularly in celebration of the birth of Christ, larger bells have also developed a presence, not only in Christmas music, but in Christmas decorations and art.
Last year, the UK Official Charts Company published a list of the “top 40 most-streamed Christmas songs”. If you were to listen to the list, you’d find bell-like sounds in the majority of them, from the glockenspiel-like introduction of Mariah Carey’s All I Want for Christmas Is You (1994) to the synthesised tubular bells of Band Aid’s Do They Know It’s Christmas (1984).
There are other musical elements which help spread the Christmas cheer, from lyrical melodies to strident brass parts. Most of these elements though, have one thing in common. They aren’t modern sounds, or particularly common in modern pop music, and instead, they remind us of the past.
The nostalgia of Christmas
Christmas is a nostalgic holiday, in more ways than one. The word “nostalgia” initially referred to a type of homesickness, rather than the fond remembrance of a hazy past time that we more commonly use it to refer to now. But both senses of the word can be used to describe the feelings we associate with Christmas.
It’s a time where many of us travel home to family, taking not only a geographical trip, but a temporal one, immersing ourselves in a world of well-worn tradition and familiarity, where the pace of our day-to-day life doesn’t apply.
Artists know this, feeding our nostalgia through music, lyrics and visuals which evoke the past. This is possibly why most Christmas albums consist of interpretations of past holiday classics, rather than original material. It’s a straightforward appeal to the nostalgic and the familiar; if we already know a song, it’s easier to immediately latch on to this new recording. Some artists though, take the nostalgia trip one step further, emulating what is arguably the ultimate Christmas style of music – the easy listening crooner song.
Whether it’s Bing Crosby or Nat King Cole, the warmth of a crooning voice nestled among light orchestral instrumentation has become inextricably linked with Christmas. It’s a sound that, unless you have a personal affinity with the style, you’re unlikely to hear much outside of the festive season.
It’s telling that when Billie Eilish performed a version of Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas on Saturday Night Live in 2023, she eschewed her usual synthesised sounds in favour of a traditional trio of piano, drums and upright bass, and delivered the vocal in a gentle, warming tone. It all conspires to make us think of some imagined, simpler past, with chestnuts by the fire and picturesque snow settling outside.
Finally, we return to that list of the most-streamed Christmas songs. There’s one artist, and indeed one album, that makes the top 20 with two entries – Michael Bublé, with his 2011 album Christmas. Checking this album against our list of Christmas musical elements reveals a clean sweep. It’s crooned from top to bottom, features lightly orchestrated versions of classic Christmas songs, and yes, includes sleigh bells. It doesn’t get much more Christmassy than that.
Looking for something good? Cut through the noise with a carefully curated selection of the latest releases, live events and exhibitions, straight to your inbox every fortnight, on Fridays. Sign up here.![]()
Samuel J Bennett, Senior Lecturer in Music Production, Nottingham Trent University
This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.
Amputee Thrilled With Hand Transplant is Now Left-handed: ‘Feels so incredible, as if I’ve had it my whole life’
Amputee Kim Smith pre- and post-transplant – SWNS
Kim Smith – SWNSHow to handle teen ‘big feelings’ as the social media ban kicks in
Christiane Kehoe, The University of Melbourne and Elizabeth Westrupp, Deakin University
Watching your teenager grieve the loss of their social media account can be confronting. Many are genuinely distressed or struggling with the change, and many parents are unsure how to respond.
Australia’s social media ban, which started this week, means teens under the age of 16, have lost accounts to platforms such as TikTok, Snapchat and Instagram.
These are the platforms they relied on to talk to friends, find support, follow interests, or decompress after school.
While some teens feel relieved or not fussed, many are feeling sad, worried, powerless, helpless, disappointed or angry.
These aren’t signs of entitlement. They’re signs your teen may need support.
Why losing social media hits some teens hard
There’s a neurological reason why the loss of social media can hit teens so hard.
Adolescence is a period of enormous social, neurological and emotional change. Teen brains are wired for peer connection, and their brains become more sensitive to feedback from their peers. Meanwhile the brain regions responsible for impulse control, managing strong emotions and long-term planning are still developing.
When teens say losing social media feels like being “cut off”, they aren’t being dramatic. Their neurological systems are reacting to a loss of social reinforcement.
Connect and validate their feelings
If your teen is upset, the instinct might be to justify the government’s decision or to explain why life offline is healthier. However, advice lands badly when a young person feels unheard. Teens often perceive even well-meaning advice as criticism.
Accepting their feelings about the changes helps validate their experience. You can say:
Feeling angry or sad makes total sense. I know you used those sites to stay connected with your friends.
Losing your account feels huge. It’s a big change to deal with.
Then pause and listen.
Or you can sit with them without saying much. Some teens prefer parents to just listen sympathetically.
Supporting your teen doesn’t mean you agree with their perspective. It means you’re acknowledging their emotional reality. When teens feel understood, they become more open to talking – and eventually, to problem-solving.
The first two weeks may be the toughest. Some teens may experience grief and withdrawal-like symptoms: boredom, anxiety, irritability, restlessness and a powerful urge to “just check once”.
Help teens understand these reactions are normal. Social media platforms are designed to keep users hooked.
Understand the ‘why’ together
It might help to explore the governement’s concerns about social media with your teen – but not as a lecture. The ban isn’t about social media being inherently bad, but about how platforms are designed.
You can talk about algorithms maximising engagement using the same mechanisms as gambling to encourage dependence and addiction. Or you can talk about how feeds are personalised to keep users scrolling for longer.
Ask your teen what they think about these concerns. This isn’t about convincing them the ban is right, but developing their awareness of how digital platforms work. This prepares them for use when they’re older.
Help teens rebuild what social media gave them
To support your teen, it helps to understand the function social media played in their life. Was it to:
- connect with friends?
- find community around a niche interest or identity?
- share creative work, or find outlets for self-expression?
- de-stress after a busy day?
- know what others are talking about?
Once you understand this, you can help them find alternatives that genuinely meet their needs. They might be able to maintain:
- connection by organising a get-together, make FaceTime calls, join clubs, or have group chats on allowed platforms
- creativity by finding other outlets such as photography, video-making, music, writing, art, or gaming communities with safe age settings
- relaxation by reading, exercise, podcasts, nature time, shows you can watch together.
Many teens won’t immediately know what they want to try. They may need time and space to have their feelings first. Once they are ready, inviting them to brainstorm a few options (without pressuring them) can help.
Problem-solve together, notice efforts
Once emotions settle, gently shift to collaborative problem-solving. You can ask:
What’s been the hardest part this week?
How could we help you stay connected in ways that are allowed?
What would make this change even a tiny bit easier?
Let your teen lead. Young people are much more likely to follow through on strategies they helped design.
Even small signs of coping deserve acknowledgement. You can say:
I can see you’ve been finding other ways to talk to friends. That takes maturity.
I’m proud of how open you’ve been about how you’re feeling.
But if something doesn’t work, treat it like an experiment. You can say:
OK, that didn’t help as much as we hoped. What else could we try?
Check in later
For teens, losing social media isn’t simply losing an app. It can feel like losing a community, a creative outlet, or a place where they felt understood.
Keep an eye out and offer opportunities to check in with how they are going. This ensures teens don’t navigate this transition alone or become secretive – and that your relationship remains a source of support.
The eSafety Commissioner website explains why the rules were brought in and how they will work; youth mental health service headspace has seven tips for navigating the social media ban; the Raising Children’s website explains how teens use technology for entertainment; tips for digital wellness and how to draw up a “contract” for use of a child’s first phone are also available.![]()
Christiane Kehoe, Senior Lecturer in Psychiatry, The University of Melbourne and Elizabeth Westrupp, Associate Professor in Psychology, Deakin University
This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.
Two People from Minnesota Who Met in the Hospital After Waking up from Comas Are Getting Married
Zach Zarembinski and Isabelle Richards – credit, family photo
credit – family photo
Zach and Isabelle after they’d both woken up – credit family photoJohn Oliver Sells His Bob Ross Painting Raises Record $1.5 Million for Public Television
Fashion Industry Eyes Alternative Leather Made Out of Cactus–And it’s Sustainable and Eco-Friendly

He Beached an Old Cruise Ship and Turned it into $18 Million Beachfront Hotel with Love
released by Doulos Phos Ship Hotel
released by Doulos Phos Ship HotelMan’s Best Friend Recognized as Dog of the Year For Saving Him from a Bear Attack
Craig Campbell and his Doberman named Night – Supplied, Craig Campbell80-Year-Old Grandma Who Learned to Swim at 59 Just Became Oldest Ever Female Ironman Finisher

Fashion Designer Makes Shoes that Grow into Apple Trees, Instead of Growing Landfills
Johnny Footwear
Johnny Footwear
