First, a confession, sometimes at the end of a week, I feel deflated. My loyal follower tries his best to boost my spirits when this happens. I love him for that. When I first began this blog, I thought I had to post every single day. With exceptions such as this, I usually don’t post on the weekends anymore. Sometimes I miss a day here or there because
my glamorous life a laundry list of demands okay, just laundry requires my full attention, leaving no time for witty wordplay.
This week was no different. I’d written my heart out, and was making thoughtful comments on
better other awesome some other really good blogs, late yesterday afternoon when a little summertime thunderstorm blew in and the power went out. This posed no problem for us; we put some burgers on the grill and kicked back for another exciting our usual low-key Friday night. Suddenly neighbors starting coming out of their dark homes, into the street to talk.
It was like a Christmas miracle.
One neighbor gave us the report from the power company that it would be at least 9 p.m. until electricity was restored. The lady next door said she was going to stay with her son for the night because it was too hot in her house. I stood at the curb, chatting with the neighbors until my husband had our burgers ready.
He commented how fun it is when the power goes out, how nice it would be if it happened once a week.
On Friday’s, all summer long, there are fireworks at the lake, and since we didn’t have anything else to do, we took a drive over to the dam road to watch the sunset and wait for the show to start.
While we sat there looking out at the beautiful scene, I thought about my 100th post, the eclipse photos I had taken not far from where we were sitting, and wished I’d brought my camera. Then I went into my usual lament over how my writing must really stink, how so many other blogs have hundreds of “likes,” comments, etc.
Of course, my husband listened, like he always does, and gave me the standard, “Honie, your writing doesn’t stink. You’ve only been blogging for a little while, give it time.”
To prove my point, I pulled up WP on my phone and showed him the Freshly Pressed page. I am often baffled by what makes this page.
I say, “Really? Seriously? Listen to this – I read some post and said, “I should just write: I wish I was a squirrel. No a flying squirrel. A psychic squirrel. Yeah a flying, psychic squirrel. I bet that would get a thousand comments.”
“I’m serious. I should just write stupid shit about how I wish I was a squirrel.”
The fireworks were spectacular. I wish I’d had my camera. The power didn’t come back on until sometime after midnight. This morning, as I sit here, I’m thankful for my followers, a new follower miraculously appeared overnight, who also appears to be a new blogger as well. I’m thankful for every person who reads, comments, and sincerely enjoys this blog. Oh, and I’m thankful I’m not a squirrel.