I get big ideas.
Ideas that feel like acres and acres of playground, face painted, cotton candy in hand, believing this is the place forever and ever. Then the fun stops, the music fades, my stomach starts to ache, the bubble pops, and back to reality I go.
I get excited.
After seeing a house for sale years ago, I called my dad to tell him I was making an offer and that I knew it was mine.
He said, “Jack, calm down. You don’t know if you’ll get it yet. A lot of things can happen.”
I did get the house. That cute 800-square-foot place with the loft, the garden, and the cutout over the kitchen sink that looked into the living room.
I loved that house.
Earlier today I was reading through old blog posts, deciding which ones I could archive. The ones where I only posted a picture, or simply said hello and goodbye.
I realized something.
For a while now, when I’ve thought about what to write, I’ve also been thinking about the reader. What they’d like. How to cater to them. Honestly, it became a heavy load. I don’t know exactly when that happened.
Because as I reread those old posts, I could feel how much fun I was having—in the sharing, in the noticing, in the playing. Reading them reminded me why I started.
I really enjoy writing this blog.
Funny how not even making it a full day before thinking I’d quit cold turkey was enough to show me that.
Isn’t perspective great?
Unrelated: a really huge orange flapping insect just cruised by. It’s 9 p.m., so it definitely wasn’t the butterfly I first thought it was. A quick Google search of “big orange moth in Georgia” tells me it’s likely a Regal moth—with a wingspan of nearly six inches, about the size of a hand!
I love these bugs in the South.
Love,
Jaclynn
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