Yesterday marks one year since I started my little blogging effort, here. I observed it the same way I observe all my birthdays (except for last year's, when I was at the record 45 single). I completely forgot it was there.
Not that blogiversaries are as auspicious as other such annual events. After all, it's only a little like hanging one's delicates on a clothes line in the front yard. I suppose the real reason for celebrating is that I've maintained it for a full year plus one day, now. Most things I start end up in limbo, ill-conceived and half-done. My house still needs to have all the wallpaper stripped from the interior and walls refinished. My garden is always in dire need of weeding and tilling... or just paving over. I have nine short stories and two novels started and none finished, and the little story book I've been trying to write for my sister's son is... well, let's just say that it could be better, it could be verse.
So, here's to sticking with something longer than I've done in a long time. Maybe, next year, a few other folks will hoist a drink or two with me over the event.
2 comments:
Geez, if I'd known about your blogoversary, I'd have hoisted a glass THIS year in its/your honour.
Maybe next year, if you give us enough notice.
Hey, now, I didn't even give me any notice. I completely forgot.
Now there's proof that not only men forget important dates.
Nevertheless, if I remember in time, we'll definitely do that drink thing. A little Laphroaig, perhaps?
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