I think I’ve written this opener approximately 5,625 times. That number also happens to be the number my child tried to multiply in her head while we ate our Costco pizza (pro-tip ALWAYS order a whole pizza before you get there around some mealtime—you won’t buy anything extraneous, and dinner will only cost $10. Thank me later.) 

 

“Okay—how would you multiply 375 by 15 without any paper?”

 

I immediately began to pipe up to say I had a pen, as any writer would prepped in her bag. However, our biggest obstacle was that our only writing surface was a cheese and pepperoni oil-soaked piece of cardboard from our dinner (another pro-tip: pack Tums. You’ll thank me again later). My husband, the ingenious one, interjected.

 

“There’s a way to do it—just break it apart.”

 

He’s right, you know. 

 

Fun fact: I actually like math. I’ve sat down long enough that I can get creative with numbers.

 

When I was in elementary school, in the summers when most middle-class children went on vacation or attended camps, I hid away in a small break room at my mother’s job. I built forts out of dish towels and inventory boxes while she made sandwiches and baked bread. Her boss was kind enough to let her do such a thing because I can’t imagine now where there might be a spot for children to spend time for 8 hours a day in the back of a bakery outside of daycare. 

 

That’s where I played with numbers most of the time—I looked for numbers on the boxes of napkins or Sysco cups to see how many were in one room at a time. I wasn’t alone. My younger brother joined me on my quest to fight boredom with numbers.

 

We were amazed by how often the inventory would swing. Wednesdays were particularly popular days in the bakery/sandwich shop—I’ve never quite forgotten that. 

 

This is why on this particular Wednesday when I needed milk and eggs at Costco, I brought my three kids to chow down on cheap, greasy pizza and play with numbers.

“Let’s break it apart—if you did 300 times 15, what would that be?”

My daughter wrinkled her eyebrow and pursed her lips so tightly her dimple worked overtime. 

“That’s 4500!”
“Right!”

“But what about 75 times 15?”

“Well, what’s 75 times ten?”

 

Just as I looked hard at the numbers on the cardboard boxes in my mom’s old job, she produced the same face.

 

“Oh! I’ve got it! Then you cut that number in half, which is 375, and then add all the numbers we talked about together!”

 

5, 625. The number of times I’ve sat down to write this note to you. 

 

I promise this has a point—as you can see, I’ve been trying to live a little more down-to-earth with kids. I’ve said it once before, and I’ll say it again, I’m in the season of constantly cleaning the manger a la Proverbs 14. Writing often comes last. All that to say, I’ve had to do more than one audit of my time—hello, numbers!

 

This is a long-winded way of saying I’ve started a Substack to pivot and send all my writing there—large and small, long-winded or haiku-sized, and everything else in between. 

 

I’ve also recognized one thing—my stories don’t follow any shape, form, or fashion. I’ve had this particular fight with Instagram, but as you can see, I didn’t really grow up with a perspective like most people. Visuals are lovely, but they take a lot out of me.

 

So I’m introducing my new Substack called Eclectica: one part musings, another part marvel, and music, motherhood, and magic all in-between. So I hope you’ll join me there! 

Last thing: I’m excited to share that I’m one of the newest contributors to Well-Watered Women! Not only are my stories full of weird, funny tangents, but all through the lens of learning from the authoritative, loving word of God. So I hope you follow me there!

AND MORE THING—I’m thankful most of you have joined me here since LAST YEAR when I decided to start a newsletter. Wild that it’s been a year. I’m utterly thankful you’ve let me hang out in your inbox. See you on Substack? (Maybe? Please?)