Snapshots, Snakes, and Sheet Music: A July Life Update
Share 4 Somethings - July 2025

Each month I share 4 somethings that I have:

  1. Loved
  2. Learned
  3. Went well
  4. Let go of

And then I link up with Jenn.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Something I loved

  • Photo Album Joy, Take Two 

I still love having hard copy photos in actual photo albums—the old-school, page-turning kind. There’s just something about holding a memory in your hands that feels more solid to me than tapping through a phone gallery.

So I’ve been slooooowly selecting and printing photos from the past ten years. I was excited to finish sorting my 2019 photos a couple weeks ago. I placed a large order with Snapfish for printing.

And then . . . I was disappointed when they arrived. The prints were too dark. However, Snapfish customer service was amazing! They let me tweak the photos on my end, then have the whole batch reprinted for free—including shipping.

A box of printed photos and a photo album ready to be filled with family memories

After one more week of mini edits, I submitted the do-over order last Sunday. I got an email yesterday that the photos have been reprinted and have shipped. I’m looking forward to receiving them, adding dates to the backs, and putting them in my album. Onward to 2020 photos next!

 ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Something I learned

  • Playing It by Ear (Literally)

After a lifetime of playing piano with trusty sheet music, I decided this year to learn to play by ear, something I’ve always been in awe of, but felt was out of my reach.

Is this even possible for me?

According to YouTube, it is possible. I’ve been working through a few videos with my keyboard and it’s actually working!

Don’t expect me to perform this feat for anybody else’s ears though (unless you count my husband Jeff overhearing me), but it’s been so fun for my private entertainment. I’ve loved picking out favorite songs and finally understanding how to layer in chords.

And because I won’t give up my beloved sheet music altogether, I downloaded a piece I’ve fallen in love with—I Giorni (‘The Days’) by Ludovico Einaudi. Playing it feels so good to my soul.

Listen to I Giorni here for a soothing meditation.

A piano with sheet music of I Giorni in a warmly lit room

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Something that went well

  • Walls So Fresh, I’m Afraid to Touch Them

After 20+ years in our house, we finally had the interior repainted.

Prepping was more intense than I expected (I still can’t find all the things I stashed away).

Home being prepped to paint kitchen walls

And now I’m currently living in fear of touching the walls. They’re just so clean. Like having a new car, I need to get that first ding out of the way so I can stop obsessing.

Next month: new flooring. Then hopefully we’ll be done for this round of major home updates. Maybe for another two decades?

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Something I let go of

  • Coexisting, Snake Edition

I’m trying to let go of the false illusion that I don’t live in close quarters with all manner of wildlife. (Although I’ll still say it’s a myth that you’re always within 4 feet of a spider.)

When I spotted a very long snake sunning outside my back door, my old instincts kicked in to GET THE HOE. But my newer, more accommodating self said, “That’s a good snake.”

A harmless rat snake moving through green grass near a patio

So I let it be. And watched as it slithered on its way through the backyard, hopefully not to return!

Same goes for the geese in my yard. Yes, they poop on the driveway, but lately I’ve stopped shooing them off (it does no good anyway).

And for the first time ever, I even let a spider live inside my house. I won’t make it a habit—it was a one-time-only offer—I just wasn’t ready to get a squish mark on my freshly painted walls. A spider’s lucky day!


What is something you are loving, learning, has gone well, or had to let go of this month?

Share your thoughts in the comments.

I’m linking at these blog parties


How Is Your One Word Growing, Moving, and Speaking to You?
{One Word 2025 July Linkup}

The July One Word linkup is here! Scroll down to link a blog post about your word or to share a comment about it.

Whether your word has been close at hand or quietly lingering in the background, this month we’re offering a new way to interact with it: through your senses.

It’s our annual One Word Sensory Challenge—but this year, we’re expanding how you experience your word.

Below you’ll find three creative ways to explore your word’s presence in your life right now. Choose one or try all three!

1. PLANT IT

What would your word look like if it were growing from the ground?

A person planting a tree in sunlight representing natural growth and quiet strength.

Think about:

  • A bright sunflower or a quiet patch of moss?
  • Something with deep roots or quick blooms?
  • Drought-resistant or delicate and seasonal?

To do:

  • Take a walk and observe plants that feel like your word. Snap a photo.
  • Draw or doodle your word as a plant.
  • Repot a plant or plant something new to symbolize how your word is growing this year.

If my word Ripple were a plant:

Indoors, it’s like my dwarf snake plant—grounded with a clear center, each leaf rippling outward. Outdoors, I see ripple in my lantana: tiny blooms in fractal patterns. They grow outward like waves.

I see Ripple as having deep roots because some ripples can go on and on.

2. HEAR IT DIFFERENTLY

Words have texture and tone. What does your One Word sound like?

A variety of musical instruments evoking sound and sensory reflection.

Think about:

  • A steady heartbeat or a bubbling creek?
  • Silence or song?
  • What musical instrument would your word be?

To do:

  • Search for a sound online or in nature that reminds you of your word.
  • Record yourself saying your word aloud—try whispering, singing, or stretching it out.
  • Try “sound journaling”: sit still, listen, and write down any surrounding sounds that resonate with your word.

What does Ripple sound like to me?

Something soft and steady—like water that laps quietly onto shore. Nothing too loud or flashy; just consistent and calm. Maybe like a wind chime. Or the vibrating sounds that a singing bowl makes when it’s rubbed around its rim.

3. MOVE IT

How does your word move through the world—or through you?

Ballet dancer moving gracefully on pointe shoes symbolizing mindful movement and journey

Think about:

  • Is it still or fast-moving?
  • Are its movements graceful, clunky, smooth, or wild?
  • Does it flow like a river, leap like a dancer, or roll gently like a wave?

To do:

  • Take a walk and let your word determine your pace.
  • Dance or move to music that fits your word’s mood.
  • Trace your word in the air with your body—big or small.

How does Ripple move?

Ripples flow out in widening circles—smooth, quiet, and persistent. Their speed is determined by factors outside of their control, but they can travel far if if they’re not interrupted. 

Share Your Word With Us

The linkup is open now through midnight on Friday, August 8.
Add your blog post below.
Not a blogger? Share your update in the One Word Facebook group.

Let’s keep exploring the many layers of our words together.

Our next linkup opens Monday, August 25. Until then, stay curious about your word—and stay connected.

Explore your One Word through movement, sound, and growth using our Sensory Challenge prompts


Which of your senses most connects you with your One Word right now?

Share your thoughts here.

If you’d like to receive our monthly One Word emails and ideas, join here any time of the year.

Link Up About Your One Word

You are invited to the Inlinkz link party!

Click here to enter

Is Life More Like Scrabble or Bananagrams? Finding Meaning in the Games We Play

Is life more like Scrabble or Bananagrams?

After a weekend of playing word games, I started thinking:

Is life more like Scrabble or Bananagrams?

I’ve been playing Scrabble ever since grade school. My mother was an excellent player and knew all the tricky words to get a high score.

But a while back, our daughter Jenna gave Jeff and me the Bananagrams game as a gift. Jeff and I have played game after game since then. We love it. It’s fast-paced, flexible, and chaotic in a good way. 

Bananagrams letter tiles arranged on a tabletop with words forming separately.

Like Scrabble, Bananagrams also uses a pile of tiles with individual letters. Each player draws a set number of tiles to form words.

But the similarities mostly end there. Here’s how the two games differ:

  • Board vs. No Board
    With Scrabble, you place your tiles on a shared board with designated squares. Bananagrams has no board—just an open tabletop or surface.
  • Turn-Based vs. Simultaneous Play
    In Scrabble, players take turns. I place a word on the board. Then you place a word connecting with a previous word. In Bananagrams, everyone makes words at the same time, but totally disconnected from each other, each in our own space.
  • Fixed vs. Flexible Words
    With Scrabble, once a word is played, it’s locked in for the remainder of the game; no changes allowed. With Bananagrams, you can rearrange or completely restart your grid at any time. 
  • Scoring vs. Speed
    Scrabble rewards strategic play with points—whoever has the most points at the end of the game wins. Bananagrams rewards speed—the first person to use all their tiles wins, regardless of the difficulty or number of words made.

Which game is more like real life?

For now, I’m leaning toward Scrabble.

While life isn’t as neat as a proper Scrabble board, or as structured as its one-turn-at-a-time rule, life does run smoother when we play interdependently like Scrabble requires. You do something; I respond. I change something; you adjust.

We’re building something together, even when we don’t realize it. We’re not racing toward a finish line, but rather running together, shaping each other. 

But with Bananagrams, we’re all working in our separate space, eyes down, hoping we finish first. We don’t help each other. We’re not in it together. We’re each just going as fast as we can.

That can be fun for a game. I definitely love playing Bananagrams.

But it’s not a pattern of play I want to copy in my life.

I don’t want to “win” life by going faster. I want to love life by playing together. 

On game night, I’ll play both games with gusto. But in my real life, I’ll take shared boards, community building, and the joy of writing our stories together anytime. 

Scrabble game with interconnected words spelled out in letter tiles.


Which games feels more like your life right now—Scrabble or Bananagrams? Share in the comments.

revised from the archives


What the Algorithm Did to Our Words—and Why It Matters

From Nadsat to “Unalive”: The Slippery Nature of Speech

This month, I’m slowly making my way through A Clockwork Orange for an upcoming book club—and it’s not been easy. Originally published in 1962, the book’s teenage narrator uses a made-up slang language called Nadsat. For me, it turns every page into a decoding exercise because I don’t speak that language.

But it also reminds me of the real-life phenomenon almost every generation lives in when younger generations create new vocabularies and sometimes new grammar to set themselves apart.

The difference now is that it’s occurring at a quicker pace because it spreads online.

Reading the brand-new book Algospeak by Adam Aleksic at the same time as the older book A Clockwork Orange highlights to me that language has been used throughout time as a barrier—between youth and adults, insiders and outsiders, and now tech and tradition.

Aleksic’s book, subtitled How Social Media Is Transforming the Future of Language, is a lively, easy-to-read deep-dive into how algorithms are changing our language in the digital age. Aleksic is both a Harvard-trained linguist and a viral content creator known as @etymologynerd, so he is uniquely qualified to explain what’s happening—and why it matters.

Cover of the book Algospeak by Adam Aleksic, which explores how social media algorithms influence language and online communication.

What Is Algospeak?

“Algospeak” is the coded language people use online to avoid being flagged or censored by the algorithms. For example, creators use words like “unalive” instead of “dead,” or “SA” instead of “sexual assault,” to keep their work from being removed online.

But according to Aleksic, algorithms aren’t just changing language by creating these workarounds—it’s a more direct pipeline. Algorithms are shaping the very words we see and hear, and then share and speak.

The term “algospeak” was first popularized in a 2022 Washington Post article, but Aleksic uses it more broadly. He argues that algorithms don’t just police language—they influence which words go viral, which tones perform best, and how fast slang spreads across multiple platforms.

Algorithms, Identity, and Power

Aleksic’s deeper point is that algorithms are a new, invisible source of using language as power. When speech is under surveillance or suppression, people adjust how they say things. Especially among youth, these adjustments create new identities for those who learn to speak the same online slang, carving out a shared space where they feel they belong.

He also introduces readers to the euphemism treadmill. For example, he says,

“The words ‘idiot,’ ‘imbecile,’ and ‘moron’ all used to be serious words for classifying mental disability, but then they became negative, so we replaced them with the word ‘retarded,’ which also became negative, so we replaced that with ‘mentally disabled,’ which is also becoming negative.”

Nowadays, though, it’s not just society shaping the language, but platform policies and how the algorithm enforces them.

blank

Rage-Bait, Rubbernecking, and Emotional Manipulation

A major theme of Algospeak is that the way algorithms change language is also how they manipulate emotion. Aleksic, himself an influencer, doesn’t deny the dark side of influencers using emotional hooks so they can stay visible longer in people’s feeds—what he calls “algorithmic pandering” and “rage-bait.”

As you already know if you have an Instagram or Facebook or any other social media account, the algorithm doesn’t give you what you consciously want to see—it shows you whatever it thinks will get the the biggest reaction from the most people.

Aleksic calls this “digital rubbernecking,” the online equivalent of when we slow down to look at a car crash on the side of the road.

The result? The algorithm is training us to overreact, to see ourselves as more polarized from other people than we really are. It creates a tendency in us to think that the extreme is normal, when it’s not.

The Resilience of Language—and of Us

Despite some of these depressing insights (alongside amusing insights, too), Algospeak ends with hope. Aleksic wants us to remember to use our humanness to create and connect when we’re online together. He writes,

“Language is, and will remain, one of the most important forms of power and belongingness.”

Even when our language is shaped by tech, we can still use it to express ourselves and connect with each other.

Aleksic closes his acknowledgements at the back of the book with this:

“Finally, to my readers. Keep being human and using language in new and exciting ways.”

And I believe we can keep using language in these ways—even in a world of algorithms and metadata.

Let’s keep finding fresh ways to say what we mean and mean what we say with creativity, beauty, and kindness.

woman typing on a laptop for social media


If you like reading books about language, along with Aleksic, I also recommend these two books:

Here’s an excellent NYTimes review of Algospeak here:

Have you seen online slang or coded language in a TikTok video or social media that has surprised or confused you? Share your thoughts here in the comments.

My thanks to NetGalley for
the review copy of Algospeak


The New Word That Changed How I Think About Grief

I waited one more minute after knocking on her door before walking away.

My patience was rewarded; she opened the door. But I could see immediately that something was wrong. Her eyes were red. She had been crying.

We talked about it.

She had recently passed the 1-year anniversary of her dad’s sudden death. Then Father’s Day hit. Next would be his birthday in July. One wave of grief after another.

And yes, she’s an adult. She had her father for many years. She has kids and grandkids now of her own.

But the ache remains. She still misses her dad.

The Myth of Closure

We often assume that when life follows its expected course—children burying parents and not the other way around—that there will be a natural sense of closure. A neatly-tied ribbon around our grief.

But if you’ve experienced a significant loss, you probably already know; even when things go as “planned,” you still may not have closure.

I’ve experienced enough losses of my own to know that some wounds never close.

And maybe they shouldn’t?

Partially open front door representing emotional openness and vulnerability.

Introducing Openture

I’ve recently learned a new word (even though it’s been around for 20 years). It’s helping me make peace with a lack of closure in my own situations.

It’s openture.

Coined by psychologist Paul Pearsall, openture is the opposite of closure. It’s defined as “refraining from seeking a resolution or ending for an emotionally difficult experience.”

I read more about it in Oliver Burkeman’s wonderful book The Antidote:

“We spend too much of our lives seeking ‘closure.’ . . . What we need more of, instead, is ‘openture’ . . . embracing imperfection and easing up on the search for neat solutions.”

Openture asks us to stay present with what’s unresolved. To hold the tension. To stop racing toward a finish line that can’t be reached.

Letting the Ripples Continue

As I wrestle this year with my One Word Ripple, I’m learning that keeping the door open also keeps the ripples moving.

But if I force closure, I might also force a premature ending to something that needs to flow a bit farther.

Gentle water ripples symbolizing emotional continuation and ongoing connection.

As I walked away from the conversation with my friend, I knew I hadn’t said anything profound or insightful. I had mainly listened. To her sadness and to her love.

But by her leaving the door open for grief to pass back and forth, she was also keeping her heart open to treasured memories with her dad.

Paula Boss writes in The Myth of Closure (I’ve read half of the book so far and it’s good!):

“You’ll never be completely over the loss of someone you have loved. There is no closure, nor is there a need for it.

Instead, we remember them and learn to live with the ambiguity of absence and presence. You know they’re gone, but you keep them present in your heart and mind—even as you move forward with your life.”

Maybe that’s where we find the truest healing: not in closing things up, but having courage to keep them open.

Candle glowing in the dark symbolizing memory and quiet grief.


You’ve heard of closure, but “openture”? When have you stopped seeking closure and just let things ripple on? Share in the comments.


When They Start Blinking, May You Remember

Dusk on a Swing

It’s dusk on a summer night. I’m sitting outside on the porch swing with Jeff, my husband. We’re watching the birds at our new bird feeder (sorry squirrels, it’s not for you!), trying to identify bird songs and double-checking our answers with the Merlin Bird ID App.

And then—there they are.

The lightning bugs.

At first we see only one. Then two. Three. Then dozens. Little flickers of light floating across the front lawn.

We sit there quietly, just watching.
Our phones are put away in our pockets.
No glancing at the time.
Just two grownups sharing the kind of moment you don’t plan for, but somehow holds great meaning anyway.

A lightning bug blinking on a blade of grass at dusk

A Memory Jar of Light

We break the silence to reminisce about childhood summers, staying outside to chase lightning bugs (or fireflies, if you prefer).

And memories surface from when our own daughters were young. When the lightning bugs appeared, we’d run into the house to find an empty jelly jar. Punch breathing holes in the lid. Help the girls catch as many bugs as we could (well, technically they’re beetles). Then head inside to a dark room and watch the bugs perform their light show.

It felt like holding wonder in your hands.

And then we’d release them back into the wild later that night. (Hmm, I hope we did. I think we did? I know I would now.)

A mason jar glowing with fireflies near a window at twilight

The Light Still Here

It felt like magic back then.
It feels like magic again tonight.

I don’t know when we stop paying attention to lightning bugs. Maybe somewhere between:

  • Rushing to clean the kitchen after dinner
  • Dashing to mow the grass before the sun sets
  • Hurrying to get from here to there on time

But even when we don’t notice them, they still show up.

And maybe that’s true of more than just lightning bugs.

Notice What Matters

There are lots of tiny, quiet moments of magic around us every day, every night—if we’d only be still long enough to see them.

Things like the crackle of lightning in a summer storm. Flowers perking up after a rain. A neighbor stopping to chat in the driveway.

Moments like these don’t make the daily headlines. They’re not trending topics on social media. They won’t go viral on TikTok.

But they matter just as much—for their beauty, for their amazement, and for how they gently contribute toward human flourishing.

Let This Moment Ripple

So tonight, I’ll let the lightning bugs remind me:

  • To watch their flickers a little more closely
  • To linger outside a little while longer
  • To appreciate life a little more intentionally

The whirl of time will spin again soon enough. But for now, I’ll stay in this moment—just long enough to let it ripple—then gently release it as a memory for tomorrow.


When have you had a quiet moment lately that reminded you to linger a little longer? (And do you call them lightning bugs or fireflies?) Share your thoughts in the comments.