I’ve been blogging for five years now, and when you do something for five years, you’re bound to learn a thing or two. To begin with, I learned that time really does fly when you’re having fun, because it just doesn’t seem as if five whole years have gone by since I started this blog. I can still remember how I struggled to figure out how to create a blog, and how I felt both nervous and proud when I finally managed to publish my first blog post.
It wasn’t long before I realized that the blog stats I checked so obsessively really didn’t mean all that much, because they weren’t particularly accurate. I have many regular readers who don’t follow my blog, and I have even more followers who never read a single post. I also noticed that the posts I liked best weren’t always the ones that generated the most views. Eventually, I figured out that what made writing a particular post most worthwhile was when one of my readers was kind enough to let me know that my writing spoke to them. Because face it, if something we write touches even one person in a significant way, then that post was well worth the effort.
I sometimes have trouble embracing change, but blogging has taught me that change is not always a bad thing. I think all bloggers enjoy having a core group of “blogging friends” who read and support each other’s blogs, and I was lucky enough to find such a group early on. I’m not at all sure I would have stuck with my blog without their encouragement. But most of the people in my initial core group have dropped out of Word Press, and been replaced by other new friends who have ventured into the blogging world. The blogging community is constantly changing, and I’ve learned to accept that and be grateful for each new connection it brings me.
Blogging has also made me much less cynical, because it’s taught me that, despite what the news media would have us believe, most people are basically good. When I first started blogging, I was very intimidated by the fact that readers would be able to comment directly on my posts. I was quite sure I was going to have to deal with lots of spam and nasty responses. But 99% of the comments I’ve received have been positive. And they usually generate interesting discussions among people who seem to be both kind and intelligent, and willing to be share their experience and knowledge. That’s the sort of thing that gives me hope for our world.
Finally, the most important thing my blog has taught me is to be willing to take a risk now and then, especially when it involves something I’ve always wanted to do. If I hadn’t worked up the nerve to hit that “publish” button for the first time, I would have missed out on so much just because I was too afraid to try something new. And the past five years wouldn’t have been nearly as much fun…..
Mom and Dad recently came home from a long trip, and they’re still busy trying catch up on all little chores that piled up in their absence. That means I get another chance to write a post for Mom’s blog, and bring everyone up to date on how I’m settling into my new home.
I know it’s sounds beyond cliche, but it really does seem like just yesterday when he was just a little guy, full of energy, fun and endless curiosity. I remember how he struggled to pronounce the letter “r” which always made him sound as if he was speaking with a southern drawl. He could be stubborn when it suited him, but that wasn’t always a bad thing. If he was interested in something, he threw himself into it with his whole heart. Once when I was picking him up from preschool, the teacher handed me a large paper bag to take home, filled with that day’s art project. Apparently, the children had been asked to paint a picture on a coffee can lid. All the other children painted one. My son painted nineteen of them.
Part of the attraction is probably nostalgia. I am fortunate to have many happy memories of Christmas celebrations when I was a child, which probably explains why I decorate my house and my tree with the glass ornaments, ceramic Santas and other knick-knacks that were so popular when I was growing up. I think on some level, I’m actually trying to recreate the best of Christmas past.
Later, when they grew up, married and moved into their own houses, we found new traditions to enjoy with our family. We toured Christmas light displays together and even quaffed a few drinks at a “pop-up Christmas bar.” Now that our family includes a baby, we skipped the Christmas bar but did take him to a light display at the local zoo and he did just fine. My son-in-law said that was because the little guy was so bundled up that he couldn’t move and was probably blinking an SOS with his eyelids. But for whatever reason, he behaved beautifully.
The stuffed pony was my favorite childhood toy and almost constant companion…it’s no wonder he looks so well-worn. The “emerald” ring was a graduation gift from my grandmother, passed on to me because we both had May birthdays. The dog collar belonged to Genny, the first dog who was my very own and not a family pet. And the ribbon was a gift from a good friend’s mother, who made it to cheer me up after I came in last place in my heat during a Junior High track meet. (Lots of people have ribbons for winning races, but I bet I’m the only one who has a last place ribbon.)
