The Week We Lit the House
Consider this a porch light, not a podium. I flipped it on so you can see the room as it is—sawdust, scuffs, and a few brave sentences still catching their breath.
SALT+TONGUE is softly live. Think paint fumes still lingering and borrowed chairs; you’re invited in mid‑build on purpose.
There’s no quiz at the end. If a comma leans, let it. My only job tonight is to keep the porch light on and name what actually happened between coffee and the moment I almost renamed the whole site at 2:14 p.m.
FRESH SAWDUST
House hours: Mondays set the table (9 AM PT); Fridays tell the truth (5 PM PT — just in time for Happy Hour).
Doorways mapped: Click a card, land on the piece. More sneaking in.
Rooms opened: Scribbles (poems), Reflections (essays), In the Margins (blog), Epics (novels), Offerings(coming).
Porch mail: The Fig Trail debuts October 1; after that, the first Monday of each month (starts November 3).
Patch & paint: Domain email live, links tightened, accessibility pass underway.
WHAT YOU WON’T FIND (TODAY)
Staged perfection or algorithm bait.
A museum‑clean desk—ink on fingers, crumbs in the margins.
A flood of posts. We’re choosing steady bricks over fireworks.
WHY FRIDAY
To breathe between bricks. Monday is for intentions (9 AM PT); Friday is for fingerprints (5 PM PT).
FROM THE DESK
I’m writing you a letter about violence and voice—no names, no sides. I’m staying with the quiet after the headlines: the check‑in text, the light left on, the breath we take before we speak. I’m keeping a human center, conviction held with care. When it feels steady, it’ll live in Reflections.
Stay for a page, or three. If something lands, pass it to a friend who reads with both hands. If not, no hard feelings—the porch light will still be on when you come back for the October 1 letter.
—Jody
P.S. If the layout wobbles on mobile, call it kinetic typography.
Reminder: Consistency beats intensity.
