Several months ago, discussing memoirs at my book club, I told a member about Nina Sankovitch's luminous contribution to that form - Tolstoy and the Purple Chair. Sure I'd written at least one post about it, I searched my blog, planning to follow up and send whatever I uncovered to the person I'd raved to. Soon after finding and reading the post above, coincidence derailed me and I promptly forgot what I'd intended to do. I was struck by how peculiar it was that my post about that memoir also described an "...itch..." I didn't recall ever having - i.e. to facilitate discussions about books I've loved. How odd that my search itself was prompted by a conversation with someone from the book club I started in January 2017, a place where I now get to regularly scratch that itch.
This morning it got a bit more odd. Right after sending the monthly reminder for my club's upcoming meeting on Tuesday (An American Marriage by Tayari Jones), I recalled both the conversation about Tolstoy and my earlier intention. Only then did I notice that Scratching An Itch - the post I'd meant to send months ago - was published on March 8, 2015. Come on, exactly five years to the day is weird, no?
What if I'd happened to send the reminder about the book club meeting tomorrow instead of today and only then recalled my earlier intention to send Scratching An Inch to that person? Care to guess how far back the search engine on this site goes? Only five years. I know, I know; coincidence.