I signed up after receiving what I thought was just another junk email—a podcast invitation. I still don’t know if it’s legitimate, but it could be fun if it is. Also? Uncomfortable. And scary. But after yesterday’s addition to my book, I felt confident in my story, in my knowledge of mental health, and ability to communicate on the topic. Like, maybe I actually have something here. Something that someone might someday read and, after closing the final page, say, “What a book.”
I get flashes of that possibility—little glimmers telling me this story could matter. But my humility (and let’s be honest, my tendency to steer clear of future-tripping) kicks in and says, “Whoa, Nelly.”
From the pool, my niece Annaleigh brought out a riddle to stump us all. I’ll share it with you:
“What is tomorrow that never comes?”
Shoot, she said, I think I messed it up.
She corrected herself, but it was too late. What is the next day that never arrives?
Hint: The answer is in the initial question.
In town, we bought a replacement blade for our electric mower—something to swap out while the original gets sharpened. Dave mentioned it to the shop owner, who said, “I can take it home and sharpen it for ya. Won’t take me but ten minutes.”
Have I mentioned how much I love this small town? Where the register still clacks like a typewriter and the calculator on the counter might just run for another thirty years. There’s a kind of magic in that.
Speaking of getting to know things—I’ve really enjoyed getting to know our bunny. I like the loud thump he makes when he’s startled. One night, I forgot to bring him out to the porch, and he slept under our bed. Around 3 a.m., Archie must’ve surprised him, and he thumped for a full five minutes. It’s kind of hilarious—unless, of course, you’re trying to sleep.
Lastly, I’m obsessed with SweetTart watermelon ropes. That semi-hard gummy exterior with a mattress-soft, sugary interior? Tactile perfection. And infuse it with my favorite flavor—watermelon—and you better believe I’m sneaking in a second. Each night for the past three nights, I’ve done it. And as I type this, I’m tasting that sweet aftertaste and smiling.
That does it for me tonight. A bunch of randomness with nothing to report means it was a very, very good day.
Lots of love thrown your way.
Love,
Jaclynn
Going On 40 