Post Your Happy!

People of the planet! I’m creating a giant, (geographically correct) wall of HAPPY and I NEED YOU! Yes, you! You there, sitting on the couch! You at work! You on the front porch! Irish! Sri Lankans! New Yorkers! Russians! Africans! South Dakotans! Londoners! Alsatians! You, taking a coffee break! You, on the toilet! (you shouldn’t use your computer on the toilet). You, the world over, I need you! 

Ready?

1. Grab a postcard.

2. List 3 things that make you super duper happy. (keep it clean, please.)

3. Mail it to me!

Your postcard could look something like this:

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Mail your postcard to:

J. Kabay 

P.O. BOX 278

San Marcos, Texas 78667

Of interest:

I will personally respond, by mail, to the first 100 received. ( So ensure your address is on there!) It’s important these postcards arrive from all over, otherwise my project will be very lopsided! Parents, I’d love to hear from your kids! If you’re on vacation, all the better! I need postcards from all corners of the planet!

Something about the postcard above: I bought it at Anne Frank’s house in Amsterdam in 2000, but never sent it out.  I will mail it to the person who sends me my 76th postcard. 

Your answers will help me with my second book.

Thank you so much! Can’t wait to hear from you! Every single postcard received will get a photo shout out on Author J. Kabay’s Facebook page!

Much love and gratitude,

Jennifer

A few from my collection so far:

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House is at it. Again.

I’m gonna make this short. The house is acting up again. Last week, I woke to someone scurrying into my room. I thought it was one of the kids, because of the scuttling pitter-patter of someone low to the ground.

 “Sophia?” I sat up quickly, sleepy. And then I got this feeling, this really horrible feeling, like a sinking in my chest made worse by a sudden, unnatural chill. Then my daughter screamed. In the other room.

I jumped out of bed, ran to their room, and lumbered up the bunk bed ladder in the dark. She lay there sobbing about the “nightmare” she just had. We cuddled until she fell asleep again, and I went to bed pissed. I knew that whatever scurried in my room had just been in there messing with my baby!

The next day, Christopher and I sat in the living room when the kitchen door completely opened (it’s a noisy door), then slammed shut. On its own. With no one else home. You shoulda seen Mr. I-don’t-believe-in-ghosts’ face. Hmph.

Then last night, Sophia woke in the wee house again, crying that big black shadows were going into her closet. Oh, baby girl. Momma understands.  Momma remembers those well. If you missed that entry, go back and read The First Icky Spirit from June 2011. You’ll have to get there manually. I can’t get the links to work for some reason. Sorry.

Anyway, I guess it’s time to bring out another paranormal investigation team. Ya’ll have a good night. I’ll keep you posted.