Love Letters

It’s recycling day in my neighborhood, and I saw this box awaiting pickup while out for my walk this morning.

I’m glad that the love letters beat out finances and receipts. I hope they just needed a bigger box.


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The Great Book Purge of 2014

It was out of control, really.

Our house isn’t huge, but there’s room for at least 8 or 9 bookcases, and until last night, they were all a mess. Books two deep on every shelf, with more tucked flat across the top. Stacks of books teetered on every nightstand, and balanced on the edge of the bathtub.

It was time to purge the books, and the process proved difficult. Though my motivation started out strong, emotions fought to get the better of me and my progress.

I didn’t see Where the Sidewalk Ends, I saw myself reading poems to a 3 year old Catie, trying to keep her awake after a concussion. As a last resort, we colored in the illustrations.

I didn’t seeĀ The Magic Tree House, I saw the winter night that Emmaline and I stood in line for hours to meet Mary Pope Osborne so she could ask one question.

I didn’t see Ivy and Bean, I saw the summer Catie started reading independently and her counting out her change so she could buy a book with her own money.

I didn’t see Me Talk Pretty One Day, I saw a used bookstore in New York and walking for miles every day, waiting for life to make a little bit of sense.

I didn’t see I Funny, I saw a bookstore friend who knew Emmaline well enough to send her the perfect book while she was away at camp for the first time.

I didn’t see dozens (hundreds?) of children’s books, I saw the sweet pre-school years we spent at home together. I saw this girl.

Emmaline reading a Magic Treehouse book on the Reading Sofa


Eventually, I had to shut down the nostalgia and start making stacks – keep and give away. The more I parted with – at least mentally – the easier it got. By midnight, I was pretty much finished. I went to sleep full of bittersweet memories.

This morning, Catie asked about the stacks of books on the dining room table.

“Are we done with these?”

“Yeah, I think so.”

She pawed through them, with much less emotional attachment than I’d shown (thank goodness), then started making stacks of her own.

“Can I give these to Ms. Jackson and Ms. Jones? And then these to Ms. Ellis? I can read them again next year when I’m in her class. And these are for Ms. Hudson.”

Yes, you sweet, sweet child. I wasn’t getting rid of our beloved books, our happy memories. It was just time to pass them along so other families could have the same chance we had. To find great books and fall in love with them and remember them so fondly it actually hurts.


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I am a warm weather girl. This was never more evident than when I woke up to below-freezing temperatures in Atlanta this morning. After a week of shorts and sun over Spring Break, I found myself digging through the closet at 6am for sweatshirts and jeans.


Come back, spring. I miss you.



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Spring Break Dining

The past few weeks at the TuckerMom home have been nuts. Too many commitments, not enough licensed drivers. Sadly, family dinners were the primary victim of our mad schedules.

But Spring Break has arrived, and there is now time for the enticing delicacies that my family deserves. The girls were kind enough to create a menu for tonight, written on the driveway for the convenience of any guests who may wander by.


Won’t you join us for some Crushed Hoisen Leaf? Or perhaps you’ll enjoy tonight’s special of Swankey Soup?


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13.1 Run and Done

I completed my fourth half marathon over the weekend. Robyn, my primary running buddy, and I have run three of these races together and our post-race behavior indicates we’re getting better at tackling this distance.

After half number one, we briefly made eye contact, mumbled something about a good job, and shuffled to our cars. I went to bed for the night at 4:30 that afternoon.

After half number two, I binge-watched Netflix on the couch, but succeeded in staying awake until almost 8 o’clock.

I ran half number three alone in Savannah. I cried and was yelled at by an old lady, but felt good at the finish and later ate my weight in a post-run brunch. After dinner, we even took a walk down River Street.

Which brings us to half number four! After crossing the finish line, Robyn wanted a cup of coffee, so we walked an extra mile to secure her crucial dose of caffeine. Between the walk to the coffee cart, maneuvering our way through barricades back to the hotel, and walking the dogs that night, I logged 16 miles for the day. And I stayed awake past sunset!

I’m a slow jogger. I take walk breaks. Sometimes I cry at mile 10. But I completely adore these long, slow runs. Here’s to half number five!



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