... because the editorial we
reached five years old. Let's have cake .. pass the Caramel Crunch.
That's right, chocolate addicts, none of your brown goo. I am of the
tiny minority who regard chocolate as a repellent, mind-altering
substance. For once, it's not about you. Not to my credit or
anything; we all have addictions. Take whipped cream, for example.
Red hair in Red Shoes |
At this stage, many of my colleagues
reflect on their growth and goals. I'd rather not because I still
don't know if I'm writing for them or for a nebulous family posterity
or just for obsessive moi. The blog is a hodge podge—something
like my mind—of all three. Cruising the Suez Canal and riding
camels apparently induces severe writer's block so I'm thankful we
are over that hump for the time being. I'm also grateful for my
readers who stick around.
Despite often living in the eighteenth
century, I do prefer looking forward than reviewing the recent past
where one can only sing always look on the bright side of life. It's
just as well my family history books are not being bought up by the
carload because all you cousins are contacting me now. If I
weren't answering 9,000 emails I could be organizing all that new
information. Luckily the incoming contains plenty of fodder for my
favourite pastime of analysis and problem-solving.
By some minor miracle my
board-certified status was renewed yet again; for the next five years
it's a solid island in a turbulent shipwrecked world. Uh no; why that
image? An oasis of sanity in my desert. pphhtttt ... you get
it.
Like all well-rounded family
historians, I have a life outside genealogical circles and don't
always eat at my computer admiring other people's blogs. I strictly
regulate my time on Facebrick (learning new slang, but actually using
it has been problematic) and Google+ (more mature discussions, we
say) but it's always a case where time expands alarmingly. I've been
known to speak in person to my offspring and made a visit to my
hometown this past summer.
I have a garden; a tiny urban garden
where I valiantly battle for soil rights with a stupid unreasonable
tree that some misguided landscaper plopped in years ago. My
volunteerism lurches between a couple of secretary positions and
regular deposits to the clothing bank. My political activism went
into a coma in 1978 but revives periodically, mainly in defence of my
performing artists home against berserk fire department officials and
similar outrageous conspiracies for which the resident creative souls
require patient exposition.
Furthermore, to prove I have a life, every few weeks I panic to see if my
scattered friends remember me so we can talk of books, movies,
climate change, health-related crap, that fabulous Jane Fonda, and
celebrity chefs. I spatchcock posts into my other blog for occasional
relief from all this tension.
If I weren't answering 9,000 emails
some of this would make sense and I could spend more time writing.
©
Brenda Dougall Merriman, 2012
2 comments:
Greetings Brenda,
Happy 5th Blogiversary!
As for the whipped cream, I understand.
I enjoy reading your blog, and look forward to more posts in the coming year.
~ Kathryn
Happy blogiversary.
Regards, Jim
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