Well, isn’t this awkward?
I guess I should explain upfront that this isn’t really my first blog post. Yes, this is my first actual blog post, but there have been quite a number of “bloggish” posts on Facebook, before I truly began this blog. I’m afraid that I have a tendency to tell stories, mostly because there are things I’ve experienced that I have found so wanting to be told that I had to tell them, and so my poor Facebook friends found themselves reading (or quickly swiping past,) posts that went way beyond status updates and veered dangerously into short story territory. Some friends have made their way through those posts and have encouraged me to share more. To them I say thank you, and here you go.
About a month ago, I decided that it was time to start the blog I’d imagined. About two weeks ago, I began this blog, which is to say I googled “how to start a blog,” found a page that I thought I could decipher, and “began.” Except I couldn’t quite figure it out. Blogging terms are almost as jargon-filled as education terms these days, and I was without a translator in a foreign land. Theme. Child. Widget. Plugins. I started fast, on a writing high, and just as abruptly stopped, without doing any writing at all. I had purchased digital “things” that didn’t seem to want to play well together, so they just kind of stayed out there in the digital realm, mocking me. Finally, today, I begged help from a friend who was able to assist me in making sense of my mess. And so here I am, writing, although I have to admit that my child is still not behaving as I think it should.
So, this will be a blog in progress, for the foreseeable future. It doesn’t look like I envisioned, yet. I have a great photo that I thought would look amazing in the header, supplied by another friend, but I can’t figure out how to get it there, and quite honestly, I’m not sure it’s even called a header. And I am still deciphering jargon. But I am writing, for better or worse. I’ve written a dissertation before, which can best be described as a literary root canal. Writing this, on the other hand, is pure pleasure, a game of expression and also of finding my voice and sharing my experiences.
Speaking of which, in the time I’ve been writing this, I’ve been interrupted twice. First by Jeremy, yelling through the window to bring him another leash, as Barney had chewed through Callie’s leash during a pause in their walk to talk to a friend. The second time was when a police officer from our town knocked on Neighbor Dan, the Dirty Old Man’s door to tell him that his garage door was still open, except it was our garage door, which I closed and then thanked the officer for reminding us.
Which means you’ve already met some of the cast of characters in my life. I promise you’ll hear more about all of them. Just ask my Facebook friends.