“Good golly Miss Molly”, I say wincing my body into a bath of steamy water. I’d get thrown in jail for doing a similar action to a child, but myself? Nah, this is called self-care.
At the start of a game of pool, right after the cue ball strikes the top ball, the next two seconds are chaos. It’s as if our brains try to catch the trajectory of every ball all at once, but can’t.
The bed sheet is two feet pulled to Dave’s side while I have nothing. But then again, the gray blanket directly above is pulled two feet to mine whereas there is nothing on his. How does that even happen I think, but don’t much care; my only interest is sliding in the mess for a comfy writing sesh.
I learned yesterday that not everything has to make sense. Weird, I know, but stick with me.
In studying Spanish, I wrestle with why things are the way they are. My know-it-allness thinks translating English perfectly to Spanish is how it should work, so when it doesn’t there’s something obviously wrong with Spanish, not me.
“Don’t do that. Some things don’t logically make sense.” Is the revolutionary idea a Youtuber massaged my mind with, and thanks to it, will likely save me muchisimo time and energy.
Two weeks ago, I met a Colombian gentleman, Giovanni, in a Spanish conversational group on Facebook. So far we speak, write, and send audio files to one another in Spanish. He critiques me. I do the same for his English (although he rarely needs help). This summer he plans to travel to the US – to Chicago and California – to visit family, and now is also contemplating a stay in Washington. Perhaps to stay with me, we shall see.
After opening an Amazon package (this post’s picture), I put Bob Marley’s “Three Little Birds” on. At first, Evelyn sat uninterested. But as I started moving, arms flailing about and singing, “Don’t worry about a thing. Because every little thing is gonna be alright,” she looked up, watching me.
When I got to “This is my message to You-oo-oo” I pointed at her, beckoning her to me, and that’s all she needed. She was up and dancing, and although lagging a second behind, she wagged her finger back at me and loudly belted “Don’t worry.”
I hope you had a fabulous day. Love, Jaclynn
Going On 40 