Post 100

That's right, babydoll - this is my 100th post.

I think this calls for some applause and maybe a cake or something. No? A cookie? Sold. Cue spotty clapping.

My sister used to send me great blog links, and a friend of mine, probably in self-defense given the number of links I would pass on to her, suggested I start my own. For months she suggested this, probably hoping to keep me otherwise occupied. But I'm a reader, not a writer (why am I hearing that in Michael Jackson's voice?) , and I resisted.

Stupid girl. It's been exhilarating. I was initially concerned that I would type three sentences, edit and over-edit, but the posts have been remarkably free of post-writing interference. I'll still pop in from time to time after I've published, especially if I notice something that sticks in my craw or there are mechanical difficulties, but for the most part things are left alone once I hit the Publish button.

This is a pretty big accomplishment.

I kept diaries as a girl, but tore out the pages I'd written within days. The handwriting may have been sloppy or the sentiment may have changed over the course of a week, but for whatever reason, I never maintained a journal of any sort.

That may have been partly due to some advice from my mother: never put down in print what you wouldn't want the whole class to read. Excellent advice, but I may have taken it to heart much more strongly than she meant.

All right, I've become sidetracked. What I meant to say is thank you for reading, thank you for commenting, thank you for letting me feel comfortable and encouraged to write about whatever crosses my mind. You all make my day.