Posts
I
have 262 followers. Some are dead; some have deleted their blogs; some haven’t
posted in years; many if not most never left a comment on my blog. Here’s the thing
about blogging. You could post nothing but underexposed and out of focus
pictures of driftwood, yet you could still have 800 followers and sixty laudatory comments per post if you did nothing all day but leave flattering comments on
other people’s blogs. I used to receive 25-40 comments per post, but I became overwhelmed by guilt because I felt obligated to visit everyone who left a
comment, and I couldn’t do it, at least not without spending my days on the
Internet, so I all but stopped, and, no surprise, most people stopped visiting
me.
The
most recent person I know who gave up blogging was Jane Gaston. She hadn’t
posted in nearly a year when she returned for two months. Last week, out of the blue, she
deleted her blog. Back when awards were popular, Jane gave me several, and she
often told me what a great writer I am. Now, she’s gone, and I have no way to
contact her and no reason to think she wants to be contacted. I took our
friendship personally, but it ended impersonally with a post that basically said: It’s been fun, but I’m outta here; bye. That was her right, of course, but it sure hurts when someone up and disappears. Just
so you’ll know, I plan to be here, as the saying goes: " 'Til death does us part."
About the picture. Yep, that's where I write, and, nope, I didn't straighten things up before I took the picture (which is why the mouse is off-center on its pad, and the file cabinet isn't closed all the way). I bought the little rabbit for a friend, but liked it so much that I kept it. The paint-by-number painting was in my family when I was born; no one remembered who did it or when it was done. As a boy, I often lay in bed pretending that I lived in that painting. The small photo is of Peggy, and the gold-rimmed plague above it reads:
I love Snow 100 million, billion, trillion, times over. I love him sooooooooooooooooo much. He is the best man, and I love him.
Peggy
Love
Love
Love
Love
Love
Given that she hates to write, I think you'll agree that Peggy does pretty well when she has the urge.
