Post a game you remember playing that nobody else remembers. [I am so old my goodness]

I am not a resolute person. I am a creature of vague intentions. But this one? I’m totally gonna pull it off. 😅

Right? I made it into a tiny story, but it begs to be expanded upon. 😅

Could not agree more. 🫣

My bookmark is resting at the beginning of chapter 47 today. Wild. Absolutely wild. I am both wary and excited to learn what the pages of the upcoming year will hold for me and my dear ones. ❤️

No cheating. Your last saved celebrity photo is your therapist. Who is it? … this should go well [I suspect James would actually be brilliant at therapizing. I’m totally down for this.]

Found this random scrap of writing in my Google drive just now and, while I can tell I wrote it, I‘m a bit baffled as to … why? Maybe it’s a story-seed that will bloom at some future date, or maybe it’ll only ever be a scrap of random hilarity. 😅

My profile pic was a few years old and I found it to be lacking. It didn’t show the silverings and roundings of age quite so well as reality does. Or the way the light catches in the corner of my glasses as if kissing me there. Forty-six years old and daring to like myself again. The audacity.

Luna (three-year-old poodle cross): *lies on the couch and whimpers despondently* me: Aww. What do you want, hun? Just go and get it, silly girl. also me: *realizes I need to take my own good advice* 🙃

me: Anthropomorphizing breakfast foods is fun! also me: You shouldn’t post food pics. Geez. Some people have NO eggs and here you are bragging that you have TWO. me: ... my stomach: Would you two shut up and eat your damn breakfast already?

My husband started selling my book at his office, and sometimes I come to bed and find money waiting for me. This is slightly odd (the finding money in one’s bed part) but mostly lovely. He hasn’t actually read the book—poetry isn’t really his thing—so he found a different way to support me.