Bloggin'

Hard to believe I have been blogging for almost 3 years. I started at the END of 2005, near my 50th birthday.

One of my resolutions this year was to blog more consistently, and I am pleased to see that I have done it. For the most part I've averaged a blog about every 2 days, although sometimes I go longer and then blog several times in one day (as I have done today.)

I've blogged about things big and small. The dog. The cats. The family. Politics. Ennui. Angst. Rain, sun. Snow. Birds. Squirrels. Nature walks. My iPod. Collecting garbage. (Actually. Collecting. Garbage. October, 2006.)

When I began blogging, I made an internal resolve not to blog about being angry. Angry at the system, yes. Angry with Idiot W, yes. Angry with Little One, no. Angry with DH, no. Angry with petty people who hold grudges and shorten their lives, no.

In the old days of actually sending letters with a stamp, I realized someone would send me a letter about being sad or mad and that was how I imagined them until I actually got another letter indicating they were feeling better.

These blog posts hang around a long time -- they're all still available, there to your right, no your other right. Yeah, and down a little. I did not want anger or animosity there for the world to see long after the emotion had passed. Anger with systems, yes. Anger with Idiot W, yes. Anger with real, live, people whom I love, no.

It's all there: the good, the bad, the boring. It shows how many posts I've made each year. This year, to date, almost 3/4 through the year, I've already made 126 posts or so. I believe this is #127. Is it a waste of time? I think not.

I loathe talking on the phone. I get itchy. I think of a zillion things I'd rather be doing. I can manage short, sharing-vital-information calls. Want to carpool? Yes. I'll pick you up at 5:15. Those I can handle. The chats, the this-and-that, they are agony for me. If I chat with you on the phone, it's a real gift of love, for it is not my thing at all.

But writing on the blog, that's easy for me. I can type. Some days I can write. I sometimes figure things out as I post them. When I'm in my element, loving the day, happy with the walk in nature, the birds on the bird feeder, the cats hugging and kissing each other (they really do, you know), it's such a natural expression for me to plop down in Bob Dole's chair and write about it while my heart is overflowing. It lets those close to me see what I really think about, despite the fact that I am not a good communicator at all, otherwise.

Both my DIL's blog. One of my sons does. Several of my friends do. It's a way to keep up with each other, tune into each other's blog and check out their heads.

Blogging. I did not even know there was such a thing, 10 years ago. --- Was there? And, now it's an integral part of my life.