I found this sweater (tags still on from last year) in my sweater drawer and couldn’t believe I hadn’t worn it before on the five winter days we get in this area. Yes, I know I posted a selfie yesterday, but that’s fairly rare for me. And I literally love this sweater.
I headed to sleep the other night, washed my face, put on my nightgown, got in bed, and turned on my sound machine app — then it hit me — the first sentence. I’ve had an idea rolling around forever, but didn’t know where to start or if it would even make sense.
Then my sister died. Did I tell y’all my sister died? My sister died.
And it’s been months ago, but it’s freeing for a writer.
My therapist had me write a letter to her and that was sort if the start of thoughts that fell out. They fell out of me, the sky, everywhere. And I picked them up, wrote some down and put some in my pockets until this pop happened when I closed my eyes the other night. The first sentence. I don’t have the title yet, but I have the sentence.
And this is me getting to work. Typewriter shirt on. Not writing on one, though.
This is so good. I shared it with one of my teenagers last weekend who was going through one of those moments of doubt and thinking she wasn’t good enough or smart enough. Sometimes words from mom are ok, but someone else can say it simply and make an impact.
Please stop updating the iOS app. It was fine two updates ago. Now you have moved things and lumped 14 (I counted) different actions together as icons instead of the simpler interface that only required one click to put in a hyperlink.
From Flair Huxtable, this is real talk. I’ve been married for almost 23 years and we still fuss about the thermostat. And I’m only taking advice from cookies from now on.
On this Valentine’s Day Eve, I hope Cupid hits you in the butt with an arrow. Please use these cards to show your feelings to whatshisname or whatshername.