I have so much to say. 

Back on March 15, I unintentionally wrote my last newsletter of 2020. As it turns out, running a small business in the middle of a global pandemic is really, really hard, and anything unrelated to aforementioned running of the business simply went by the wayside. March 15 now feels both five minutes and five lifetimes ago. 

So we're trying this again. 

The calendar has turned a page, and I'm trying to get back in the habit of writing: for you, yes, but for myself, too. I've missed it, and there's so much from the past year that remains unprocessed, so much of the future that remains unknown. I'm going to try to write about it. 

I wanted to wait until I had something perfect to say, but I'm afraid I won't ever get the words out if I keep waiting. So here goes nothing. 

Happy Sunday, friends. I've missed you.

A swimming pool will save the summer. Work won't always be a solace, even when you love it, so create peace and calm at home. See your brother more than twice a year, if you can. It's okay to just watch a lot of TV. Go for long walks.* Vox your friends. Send mail. While you're at it, know your postal workers by name. Pay artists for their art. Drive to the coast. Fill your house with mementos and memories for the years it feels like you're not making any. March alongside the causes you believe in, yes, but even more importantly, speak the truth quietly when you're with your friends. Trust that Jesus is in the room. Buy the tie-dye sweatpants. Go looking for joy. Get in the car and drive. Read what you want to read, and cry when you want to cry. Not everyone will like you all of the time. Tayshia is the best Bachelorette we've ever had, and Zach is the best contestant since one-F Jef. As it turns out, hugs are important. Take the chance to line-dance when the occasion arises. Drink freshly-squeezed orange juice. Create a Sunday rhythm. Go to bed angry sometimes. Wash your dang hands, and stop touching your face. Community matters, even when it's just on Zoom. Give weight to the voices you trust, the ones who have proven themselves worthy of it; ignore the rest. Eat takeout from local restaurants. Hang twinkle lights. Listen to the birds and trust the trees; they're fine, and you will be, too.

* Erin Moon calls them Stupid Walks, but mine are distinctly Rage Walks. I am embracing my inner Marmee and acknowledging I am angry nearly every day of my life, and walking is what I do about it.

reading: Laura Tremaine's book Share Your Stuff. I'll Go First, which thus far is truly outstanding, and a great way to kick off the new year. I also started using Emily P. Freeman's new The Next Right Thing guided journal, which is proving to be just the resource I needed to quietly begin a new season.

watching: Soul, which I characteristically cried through, and on this very rainy Saturday, we've watched Bridgerton (meh?) and several episodes of Red Oaks, which is a show I'd never heard of but think I may love? 

listening: To the audiobook of My Friend Anna. Plus all the semi-melancholy winter music. Send me every playlist and stick it in my veins. 

1. Sleeping in. 
2. Spening less time on Instagram. 
3. Planning for our patio. 
4. Journaling.
5. Time on the couch. 

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