Finished with school, temporarily finished with work, finished with all those pesky things that demanded time away from this, the thing I used to like to do most in the world.
Well, almost most in the world.
Since last we spoke I’ve been on camping trips, had a big birthday, had travel adventures, written a thousand papers, adopted (another) dog, made friends, lost friends, been happy, sad, surprised, discouraged and overjoyed.
I am riddled with anxiety and hope in almost equal parts.
In short I’ve continued to marvel at the big jokey metaphor that is life and shared none of it here.
And that, my friends, isn’t going to work for me anymore.
For a while I thought I couldn’t access this site again, thanks to Google’s takeover of Blogger and additional swipe at taking over the interwebs by chaining everything together and forcing one to log into absolutely everything with only one email and only one password. I announced as much over coffee (OH MY GOD Y’ALL, I ALSO BECAME A COFFEE DRINKER ON TOP OF EVERYTHING ELSE) at Etcetera coffee shop to my friend, Nikki May:
I can’t get into my blog.
What do you mean you can’t get into your blog?
Because, you know, Google and stuff.
[I’ve meant to get back to this little project all along. Of course I have! However, I’ve also recently decided that after, oh, a mere nine years, the site needs a redesign. Blog pillows must be fluffed, new paint colors chosen, furniture rearranged, tchotchkes slid one inch to the left, irrelevant and unfashionable pieces discarded.]
You should design me a new blog!
(Another sigh; this time that of the weary, tortured, perpetually annoyed web designer.)
Five blog posts.
Write five blog posts. And I’ll design a new blog.
I can migrate all your old stuff into the new blog.
She grinned evilly.
Of course, that’s the kicker. All my old stuff? Just hanging around with my potential new stuff? All in one place? With a shiny new cover?
I sped home. Fired up the laptop. Unsheathed my internet machete. Hacked my way through Amazon, Facebook, online spades. Ruthlessly chopped down the other forty-seven open windows open on my desktop. I turned off “Property Brothers”. (Sorry Jonathan, it just wasn’t meant to be.) I turned off “Say Yes to the Dress” (Step away from the Pnina). I slogged through swamps of online applications and half completed forms, online banking. I swiped away the Joan Didion. Finally, I dove into Google.
By God, I’d blast my way in if I had to.
I took a deep breath. Entered my old email address, my old password.
HEY! How YOU doin’?!
(Four to go.)