Caitlin’s Take On The Finch App

Screen shot of The Mouth & Caitlin (Caitlin's Birb and pet in her Birbhouse). The birb, The Mouth, stands in the center of the room wearing a purple shirt, purple bear (?) slippers complete with claws, a multicolored lei, some kind of maybe sunglasses on her head with heart-shaped frames. She's holding a ukelele, also purple. No pants. Next to her is her mouse, BB, wearing a fedora. In the house behind her there is a mostly purple bed (with a yellow pillow and white bear head pillow), a wall decoration showing that she completed some event, purple framed window, white bunny ceiling light, red dino clock over the purple enchanted door. Her doormat has multicolor lego shapes. The rug under her feet is...dark yellow? Behind her there's maybe a boom box on the floor (no dresser which usually goes there) and something with a green top. It's not visible because The Mouth is in front of it.

So, Martha already did her blog post about Finch, and now it’s my turn.

Listen, I’m SO into this app. I do feel the thrill and zeal dimming, just slightly, after a couple of months of daily use, but only slightly.

I do think that part of the appeal is that I missed out on Tamagachis, NeoPets, The Sims, and lots of the pet-type, virtual-reality-ish things my peers did. Derek and I got our revenge by being really into furbies. We even learned Furbish, made up our own spinoff language, and, thanks to Derek’s ability to Internet-sleuth, figured out how to make them talk and sing together, even though we never had access to the actual directions. But somehow, the furbies never scratched the “I want a little electro-pet” itch. And actually, I’m not sure Finch is quite doing that, either.

The thing is, I don’t entirely understand why, precisely, this app is working so well for me … which, in itself, kind of fascinates me. As it stands right now, Finch and VoiceOver play fairly nicely together, but I don’t get descriptions of my “birb” or anyone else’s, unless I take screenshots and run them through Be My AI, and who has time or motivation to do all that? There isn’t even an easy way for me to remind myself of what my birb is wearing, much less change and coordinate her outfits. (Martha will often laugh and tell me, “Uh, honey, your birb has no pants on right now, just so you know.)

Because, thankfully, the app isn’t punitive at all, the way others are, I don’t feel obligated to check in every day. Your birb will not be harmed if you flake out. I do enjoy the whimsical, childlike “choose your own adventure” stories you can engage with every day, as well as the surprise prizes you get from the “quests” and the Question Of the Day.

My main fun right now is saving enough rainbow stones to buy clothing and furniture, in part for me, but more so to gift the Finch friends I know in real-life. While it would be hugely helpful to receive immediate descriptions of their birbs and houses, so I could get a read on their preferred colors and aesthetics, it’s still a delightful challenge for me to choose things based solely on their real-life personality, interests, etc. This is less doable, of course, with the Finch friends I’ve found through Facebook’s Finch groups … or, as Martha and our friend Amy jointly dubbed it, “the Dark Finchie Forest.” The community has been SO kind and generous, although a lot of the interaction is pretty visual and image-centered. One opportunity which I pounced on was offered by a person who gave 50 random gifts to the first few commenters. Another person constantly does gifting posts where she’ll send you five gifts, anything you want. These people aren’t always asking for trades … in fact, rarely so, since they are extremely hardcore, already have most or all of the items, and know hacks that enable them to donate the items to others without losing the items themselves. I’ve been trying to figure out what these “gifting fairies” get out of all this labor, some of which includes detailed spreadsheets, Google Forms, contests, and gifting to hundreds of people, multiple times. So far, I haven’t discovered why they do it, other than that it brings them joy and seems to be a hobby for them.

I’m not nearly that intense about it, but it brightens up my Finch day to receive some random gifts every once in a while. Other folks online are quick to hop on as random gifters, accountability buddies, or just birb friends if you want more people in your trees to share vibes. People are also often quick to throw you a few extra plushies, which are equivalent to a ton of rainbow stones. So you can either sell these plushies as a means of buying more things, or send them along to other Finch users, especially early ones, to help them build their inventory and get started.

While I’m not doing a HUGE deep-dive into the “dark dealings,” as Martha calls the Finch folks online, I continue to be touched, and also slightly baffled, by people’s endless kindness and capacity to just … give stuff on Finch for no apparent reason. I’m trying to pay it forward as best I can. Because I have no interest in collecting sets, coordinating outfits and birdhouse decor, etc., I’m not very good at trading back or helping people find things they’re looking for. But I’m really getting a kick out of Finching with people I know IRL and treating them to little spurts of Finch joy when I find things they might like.

As for my personal goals, I’m kind of amazed by my newfound dedication. It helps that I’m currently on leave from work (that’s another blog-post for another day), so I have extraneous energy and time to work at achieving my goals. I was always that nerdy kid who wanted every prize or treat or reward, even if it wasn’t something I even cared about. (I asked doc Martha what this says about me as a person and she didn’t have much to say, so feel free to throw out theories re: what this behavior says about my personality.)

Besides reminding me to have a water bottle on hand, Finch also acts as a nice, clean daily checklist, reminding me about little things I intend to do: eating applesauce “to ward off rickets,” as we say; eating my baby-food prunes and taking extra Metamucil to help with digestion; doing odious daily chores, like cleaning out my thermos, checking on whether or not the dishes are done at any given time of day, and monitoring laundry, trash, and recycling; and, most notably, flossing and wearing my retainer. Seriously, I have struggled with consistent (okay, any) flossing and retainer-wearage my entire life, and this app singlehandedly cured me. I’m totally going to tell my dentist. I mean, I know it won’t work for nearly everyone, but it’s so fun! And so simple! And free, unless you want to pay for Plus (which I did, in a fit of pique, while under the influence of a sedative, because I got mad that I couldn’t send the summer Ice Cream vibe or buy a pair of koala slippers).

Finch has also really, really helped me build in movement throughout the day. Again, it’s a clean, easy-to-access list of goals … so, as I flick through it a couple times a day, I’m reminded about body-focused reminders: deep breaths, stretch breaks, “functional fitness,” going outside, walking after a meal, jumping jacks, and, my favorite, “jumping,” which has always been my vestibular “blindism / stim” of choice and continues to bring my joy, even in my thirties, when I encourage myself to do it despite my internalized ableism.

All this to say … this app continues to be such a delightful life hack for me, even as the world catches on fire in innumerable ways. I highly recommend it if you, like me, have a bit of a prize-craving, gift giving and receiving, surprising-people personality.

You can find me, Caitlin, and my birb, The Mouth, at Finch code:

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Happy Finching, if you’re into it … cheep!

Screen shot of The Mouth & Caitlin (Caitlin’s Birb and pet in her Birbhouse). The birb, The Mouth, stands in the center of the room wearing a purple shirt, purple bear (?) slippers complete with claws, a multicolored lei, some kind of maybe sunglasses on her head with heart-shaped frames. She’s holding a ukelele, also purple. No pants. Next to her is her mouse, BB, wearing a fedora. In the house behind her there is a mostly purple bed (with a yellow pillow and white bear head pillow), a wall decoration showing that she completed some event, purple framed window, white bunny ceiling light, red dino clock over the purple enchanted door. Her doormat has multicolor lego shapes. The rug under her feet is…dark yellow? Behind her there’s maybe a boom box on the floor (no dresser which usually goes there) and something with a green top. It’s not visible because The Mouth is in front of it.

Brrrring!

I don’t have games on my phone. I used to do duolingo (before the app got taken over by AI – Atrocious Imaginings) and word games before I knew the level of treachery at the New York Times, but that’s it. Total transparency – I do have insta on my phone. I know it’s also awful in many ways, but I’m far from perfect. And so when I’m on my phone, most of the time is spent messaging folks (we love a voice message around here), watching a youtube (yes, yes, there are problems there too) on how to manage some crochet thing, or reading a book. Plus I call my mom once a week or so. That’s it. My phone spends most of its time in a phone stand.

Caitlin, on the other hand, is VERY attached to her phone. She doesn’t do games either, but she nearly always has it in her hand. She reads a lot on her phone, and she has many more people to text than I do, plus scrolling, and YouTube. Then about a month ago she started using WaterMinder. She really appreciated the gamified way the app got her drinking more water. Every time the reminder splashes, we all sing out WowTER in big voices.

I admit that I give her a hard time about how much she’s on her phone. And she gives me a hard time when I don’t pick up or notice that someone has texted us. (bonus track at the end for more on that) That said, we were pretty comfortable in our two camps, phone-on-stand vs phone-in-hand.

Then a friend of ours was wondering about a gratitude app that we could use and share our gratitudes without too much pressure. Caitlin is kind (and as I said, very attached to her phone) and she went on a search. What did she find? She found Finch.

If you are not aware of this app, the website says:

“Meet your new self-care best friend! Finch is a self-care pet app that helps you feel prepared and positive, one day at a time.

At Finch, our goal is simple: to make daily self-care something you actually want to do — not something that feels like a chore.

We know that building healthy habits can be hard. Life gets busy, priorities shift, and it’s easy to put yourself last. That’s why Finch was created: to be a gentle, encouraging companion that helps you take small steps every day toward a more supported, balanced version of yourself.”

What they don’t tell you here is that there are cheerful chimes and rainbow stones you collect when you complete a goal. And with those rainbow stones you can buy outfits and furniture to decorate your birb house. That’s not a typo, that’s what Finch calls it. You can get micro-pets and bonus points for completing goals in different areas like Connection, Calm, Gratitude (yes, that’s how she found it), Movement and Self-Kindness.

So then wherever I was in the house I would hear this brrring! sound as well as various cheeps and dings. Caitlin thought it might function as the gratitude minder she was looking for and so I downloaded it too.

And guess what? They have some decent psych-science behind what they are doing. And it does work for the Gratitude Goal in that it reminds us to share a gratitude (in the app you cannot message each other – beyond sending Good Vibes that the app writes for you). It turns out the brrrring! sound is really fun (and motivating)! Our friend did a lovely job of decorating and dressing up her birb – and they even had a white-cane for Caitlin and sports headphones for me.

And nowadays if you were able to listen in at our house you’d hear laughter, Maite talking, singing and…brrring! Finching. I still don’t keep my phone quite as handy as Caitlin does, but I do pick it up just to log my goals several times a day. If you decide to join, and you know either of us, let us know so our birbs can be friends!

Image is a screenshot from Finch with Caitlin and my birbs and micropets. The background is a forest scene, green grass, trees, that kind of thing. Caitlin’s birb is on the left with her baby bat. She is holding blue pom poms, is wearing a rainbow shirt and is smiling and dancing. Her thought bubble has what looks like a scared robot. Next is my birb’s pet seal who is quite a bit larger than the bat because I didn’t know I could keep it from growing up so it reached toddler, I think. Then my birb is sitting on the ground next to the seal. My birb is wearing a multicolored striped shirt, red glasses, sporty headphones and has sideswept brown hair. Its thought bubble has a sailboat.

Bonus track: The other day Caitlin left me very early to do things with her mom, and I was supposed to take Maite to the vet. I was so tired, I fell back to sleep after she left, not my usual behavior. When I woke up, I leapt out of bed to give Maite her pre-procedure meds. Then I dressed and took her right outside for her walk so we wouldn’t be late. Back inside, I took a quick shower and got dressed. As I was pocketing my keys and wallet, I unlocked my phone for the address of the vet. Imagine my surprise when I saw multiple missed calls and texts from Caitlin. The vet had called, apparently, while I was blissfully sleeping and then tried her phone. They had to cancel Maite’s procedure and wanted to reschedule. Caitlin then proceeded to call me, text me and call our neighbor to get him to come and knock on our door (he didn’t. or if he did, he did it while we were out walking). I promise you, I would have looked at my phone before I left, but Caitlin really needed that immediate response!

Mobility At Home

I’m sure it’s very easy for folks to come home from a mobility immersion like mine and, albeit unintentionally, slip right back into old patterns. Sadly for them, they don’t live with Doc Martha, who is all about “consolidating learning” and treating each new day as an opportunity to create positive change, both in your own life and, you know, The Big World!

As soon as she picked me up from the airport, Martha was all, “So this is the new arc! Looks different!” and, when we came upon our first staircase, “Show me that anchor thing.”

Martha and I still walk Maite together most summer mornings, but because this generally involves lots of about-faces and off-roading, I continue to use my cane in my right hand and hold Martha’s hand in my left to be guided.

After my return from Michigan, though, we’ve also started taking short walks, sans Maite, after dinner, with the idea that I’ll walk some useful, short routes, write them out, and eventually walk them independently.

So far, we’ve gone to the post office to drop off a piece of mail (functional mobility!) and to a little joint near us called All Night Pizza, which wounded me by not having chocolate ice cream on the night we went (I could have gotten their fried chicken, if I’d wanted, because I like theirs a lot!).

On both night walks, I walked entirely solo: unattached, no physical guidance, while Martha walked behind me and didn’t assist or run block, other than to give me initial directions, reminders, or help with street crossings (more about that in a sec). We typically walk around the neighborhood linked up, so this is definitely a new habit for us. Also, during walks, if things are calm, Martha will often stand behind me at a street corner with Maite so I can practice just crossing without an attached route.

On our first walk (to the post office box), I immediately became frustrated. I followed the directions fine and wanted to show off my new skills … but, unlike in Michigan, SF has tons of hills! Even in its streets! I kept veering wildly, probably because I was so focused on walking quickly that I didn’t notice I was following a downhill slope instead of keeping my straight line. (In other words, the hill lured me into a false sense of straightness—no pun intended—and caused me to veer.)

One time, I ended up on the wrong up-curb altogether, which horrified me. I … didn’t even know that was possible? Was it possible to have done that in Michigan and I just … never did, magically? Did I miss something?

Anyway, I hope the hills are the problem, and that I can practice those streets enough to learn how a proper crossing feels beneath my feet, even if I am going against the grain of the street. Still, all this quickly put me into an angry tailspin re: can I seriously not go anywhere without there being unforeseen (haha) obstacles? There were some high notes, though. I definitely got significantly less hung up on sidewalk junk, thanks to my narrower arc. Often, I made perfect or near-perfect crossings, although, of course, even without the added hilly complications, these streets are just … different, so different things happen. I always just seemed to hit the domes in Michigan and be lined up right, but our streets are not nearly as straight and nice. So sometimes, even when I tried to line up with the inner curb, it wasn’t quite right, and was only helped when I also compared with the outer curb, which Jeffrey and Hannah told me I didn’t really need to bother with in Michigan.

So I kind of just … realized that the skills I gained are absolutely fantastic, and I learned a lot, and I was and am super stoked and happy and proud that I went and that I learned so much. AND, because two things can be true at once, I hate that the job of being a competent traveler will never be done. They did warn us about this, and I always knew it intellectually, but I still hate it. Especially in terms of blindie things, I like to go after a skill hard, get my proverbial Girl Scout badge (or rainbow stones from Finch) proving mastery, and then move on to the next thing. But mobility isn’t like that.

I know Leader Dog can even send an instructor out here to work with me at home, but, at this stage, I don’t want that. It feels unfair to have to do that when I already feel like I did so much work.

I wish there were, like, short courses for my sighties, so they could become impromptu mobility support ambassador people and immediately know tips that could help me in any given situation. I resent feeling like I need “legit” mobility instruction to puzzle out and plan for the intricacies of every new route.

I do know that, between the two of us, Martha and I can probably figure out a lot of things, and I just need to be patient, and stay willing to practice. It just felt hard when things didn’t immediately go right. I remember feeling this way after coming home from guide dog school, too, interestingly. It’s quite a leap going to an environment where there isn’t an immediate fix or suggestion to an accessibility or blindie skills-based problem.

Someone in Michigan (I think it was Jeffrey, but maybe somebody else we heard from) said that mobility is often hardest in our own neighborhoods, just because people we know might be around and have their own reactions, comments, or feelings to us moving through the environment. Martha and I had a cute situation like this. I was crossing a street and our next-door neighbor, whom we affectionately call “Uncle Wayne,” because he has dubbed me his niece, saw me from the other side. He helpfully yelled, “Come toward me!”

Martha shushed him, and I playfully yelled back without thinking, “No! I’m doing it myself—watch!”

I hit the curb a little off-center, planted my feet (per the technique), swept to one side, found my domes, and sailed up the curb into a good old Uncle Wayne hug and fist-bump. And that was it … because Uncle Wayne is chill and did not freak out about me walking across a street untethered to Martha. I love that guy. I may or may not have jumped up and down and bragged a little.

Martha has also definitely had to wave people on when they try to yield to me as I wait for an all-quiet, all-clear. There was a hilarious moment this morning, on our Maite-walk. Martha and I had detached so I could cross a street solo, with Martha and Maite behind me. A car idled; Martha waved her on and told her to go ahead; and, as she drove through the intersection, the driver audibly grumbled at Martha, “I don’t know what you think you’re doing … you’re supposed to be holding her hand.”

Looool! I know I’m supposed to be ashamed that, because of my example, this woman possibly thinks that hand-holding equates real human guide, AND that Martha and I presumably hold hands on Maite’s walks so often that this woman thinks I’m incapable of walking by myself. I still found it funny and knew her heart was in the right place. I mean, if I can’t hold hands with my wife, what even is the point of my life? I don’t care what the “proper sighted guide” haterz say. This is a hill I would die on. Also, I still maintain that I get much more information and cues from Martha’s hand than I do from anyone’s elbow, even Martha’s. I’ll die on that hill, too. Come for me!

Poor Martha was just like, to me, “I don’t know why that woman just yelled at me.” Heh. I told her that, next time, we can explain that I’m “practicing,” or “learning.” In my experience, those quick buzz words seem to calm people down when they panic about seeing a blindie caning around in the wild while their sightie, seemingly cavalierly and irresponsibly, looks on without assisting.

Interruptions like these, however, don’t bother me. I feel better, in fact, that our people are watching out for me. Seriously, though, I need a resource on which to share these incoming mobility woes and struggles. We have forums and sites and email lists and What’s App groups for blindie notetakers, computers, phones, braille, cooking, shopping, guide dogging, dating, even traveling with the help of Meta glasses. Why don’t we have one for trading good old-fashioned cane hacks? There’s so much lived experience we could all share. We could even have mobility professionals join, once a blindie or two has approved each one and determined that they aren’t paternalistic, saviory, or blind police-like. If I didn’t despise mobility so much, not to mention the way social media has become so janked up re: accessibility, I’d seriously start something. How has this gap not been addressed?

Oh, and for anyone who cares, Martha found me a great, stretchy new fannypack to replace my Braille Sense’s side-bag. So now my cane hand and arm can move freely, but I still have my stuff on my person. And she found tennis tape in cool new colors! AND, my wrist and arm are no longer sore as I use my new, narrow arc and grip closer to the top of the handle, so I’m back to my glittery rainbow canes. Hooray! My aesthetic still lives, mostly.

Stay tuned to this space, if you so desire. Probably, if I can stay in good habits, I’ll start blogging about other things, not just mobility (let’s hope, since I don’t even LIKE mobility, geez!).

I attached my micropet’s egg to my Writing goal on Finch, so I’m motivated to write every night, heh. (That will make no sense unless you have the Finch app. Which, if you do, send me your friend code, please and thank you. I will send you presents and vibes on there for suresies.)

As I used to say on good old LiveJournal back in the day, “Tootles!”