“I was also serenaded by a hooting owl. ...
“I rejoice that there are owls. Let them do the idiotic and maniacal hooting for men.”
Thoreau.
Now there was a guy who loved owls.
Kept a mean journal, too.
As will you, thanks to My Evening Post, a new website that sends you nightly email reminders. Then you pour your heart out to those emails until one day you suddenly have a virtual journal. It’s online now.
Maybe you’re working on your memoir. Maybe you have no short-term memory. Maybe you never want to forget that time you met Jeff Goldblum at a Fugees concert and then you guys all went for crab cakes.
Let’s assume one or all of those are true and talk details:
First, sign up. Classic first-step situation. Then, tell them what time you want to be emailed every day. Once whatever-o’clock rolls along, you’ll get a reminder that says “How was your day?”
Write a few lines. Add some photos. No one sees your posts but you, and you can scroll through them all later.
Sort of like someone poking you and handing you a pad of paper every day.
Less obnoxious when it’s virtual. Who knew.
“I rejoice that there are owls. Let them do the idiotic and maniacal hooting for men.”
Thoreau.
Now there was a guy who loved owls.
Kept a mean journal, too.
As will you, thanks to My Evening Post, a new website that sends you nightly email reminders. Then you pour your heart out to those emails until one day you suddenly have a virtual journal. It’s online now.
Maybe you’re working on your memoir. Maybe you have no short-term memory. Maybe you never want to forget that time you met Jeff Goldblum at a Fugees concert and then you guys all went for crab cakes.
Let’s assume one or all of those are true and talk details:
First, sign up. Classic first-step situation. Then, tell them what time you want to be emailed every day. Once whatever-o’clock rolls along, you’ll get a reminder that says “How was your day?”
Write a few lines. Add some photos. No one sees your posts but you, and you can scroll through them all later.
Sort of like someone poking you and handing you a pad of paper every day.
Less obnoxious when it’s virtual. Who knew.