HAPPY FIRST BIRTHDAY TO DAYS IN THE LIFE
I’ve been doing this a year. Wow. I had no idea when I started. . . no idea. Well, thank you all for, er, giving me an idea. And when Jodi and Susan of Athens brought up conflicting notions of when the anniversary was (the day my first Blogmom turned it on or the day I managed to post something for the first time: I’ve gone for the second, not only because it’s second, ie later, but because the crucial thing to me is when I started writing the sucker) I went back and reread that first entry. Which I thought it might be amusing to annotate a little on this occasion.
A Day in the Life of, or, Why I Don’t Get Round to Hanging New Stuff on my Web Site,
Indeed. Of course none of you would be so cruel as to be paying close attention, but Blogmom has gently and tenderly changed the ‘August’ to ‘September’ on that space-holding opening page for the new web site, as September rolls on in the inexorable way of time. However I have just this minute sent the Brief Book Descriptions for the booklist, a few hours after I (finally) sent in the corrections for the first wodge of somewhat revised and gingered up FAQ answers, to Blogmom, so a little tiny piece of the new web site should be going up . . . soon. Like before the end of September. Yaay.
or, Why the Idea of a Blog Fills Me with Terror
And I was so right to be terrified.
Part One
I’m going to start the night [sic] before, because that’s how my days always start:
2 a.m.: the clock strikes two.
Yes. It will do that. I keep trying to train it out of this unfortunate habit, but . . .
No! No! It can’t be 2 a.m.! That was only twelve-thirty five minutes ago!
Some things don’t change much. Or at least they only get worse.
When we moved into town three years ago, Peter, my husband, bought me a striking clock. We used to live in an enormous old house in the country, with a big grandfather clock that went DONG DONG DONG in an appropriately majestic and attention-ensnaring way. When we made the decision to move we also decided we wanted small this time. Small and staying married, meant, in our case, two houses. (More about this some other time. It’s not as insane as it sounds. Well, maybe it is, but that’s another story.) An awful lot of stuff (including about 4000 of my books, sob) went to the auction house or the dump (and the old-books dealer).
Numbers are mounting again, drat it. Some of that is YOUR fault. You and flipping Pollyanna. Did I ever tell you that I enjoyed L M Montgomery’s Blue Castle enormously? I wonder how conscious she was of getting away with the redolent nonsense of the central love affair by that brilliantly awful family? (And don’t you wonder about the wedding night? Our little heroine has courageously, not to say brazenly proposed and our anti-hero hero–except we all know he’s a hero hero really–has accepted out of a kind of honour, so she doesn’t have to go back to her appalling family again for the few months she believes remain to her. So where does all the courage and honour get them on their wedding night? Well, we know where it gets them: it’s pretty obvious. But as someone who has written, and enjoyed writing, a few awkward romances, where both sides are absolutely determined to get it wrong, I kind of wish Montgomery had been writing it fifty or so years later, so she could have told us how they negotiated their way to the clinch.) The family are caricatures, but they’re sharp and shining caricatures, and just what the reader needs to cut the teeth-achingly sweet love story.
We kept the grandfather clock, but Peter got it. (Well, it’s his clock.) So, anyway, Peter got the clock, but I’m the one who’s bad at time. Make that really, really bad at time. So he bought me a clock that strikes every half hour on the theory that if he didn’t do something drastic he might not see me for days on end, let alone for supper on time. (Peter does most of the cooking, and he also got the dishwasher.)
Supper on time is pushing it, but time for supper has gained a new eminence. I usually write blog entries over supper. It’s great support for menopausal waistline control: go out for dinner? I have to write my blog entry! Give me a carrot.
I was happy to have it because I think a chiming clock is a friendly sort of creature, and this one is a very pretty French mantel clock, even if it does force me to notice time passing. And the funny thing is it works pretty well. It tends to gain, which is a good thing, because when it strikes it’s always a horrible surprise.
Yes. I’m having a nice little snooze in the bath and the wretched thing strikes.
The problem is that it only produces a single stroke on the half hours. From twelve-thirty to two o’clock in the afternoon this is not so dreadful (although it does mean I’m late for lunch again).
The upside of the hellhound attitude toward food is that they never protest lunch at 3:30. They protest lunch regularly, but not the 3:30 part. Or 4.
You’re beginning to catch on that when I say I’m bad at time, I’m not exaggerating? If I’m really involved in what I’m doing (which I almost always am, because (a) things like dusting and window-washing just don’t happen in this house unless I hire someone else to do them and (b) I’m an extremist. I’m either All or Nothing, and Nothing is boring), hours disappear like lightning, or they’re folded up in tiny slender packages like tesseracts. Twelve-thirty to two o’clock in the morning goes by with amazing speed. Chances are I was playing the piano till midnight,
Or, possibly, Finale-ing. I had started developing the habit of having a quick bash at the piano after I’d Finaled for a stretch, before hellhounds and I crept back to the cottage in the wee smalls. But Peter has been known to wake up, hear me playing the piano and look at the clock. Curses. Foiled again.
because. . . no, wait, I’m getting ahead of myself.
So, back to where we started:
No! No! It can’t be 2 a.m.! I just heard half past midnight strike!
Hasty turning off of light, thumping of pillows, and throwing of self down.
I wish. The nights I’m already in bed when 2 am strikes, I’m thrilled.
Turn light back on long enough to drag books and various other hard pointy objects out from under where I’m trying to lie,
Yes. This is getting worse. See above. Well, I’ve run out of room under the bed. . . .
and then turn light off again.
Grumbling noises for a minute or two. (Did I use to talk to myself this much? Or am I getting old? Well, yes.)
Hmm. I seem to have stopped worrying about this. Is that a bad sign?
6 a.m.: Birds are making way too much of a racket. Also it’s daylight out there. (This will be less of a problem in a month or two, as I write this in early September.) How did it get to be daylight already? I only turned the electric light off a few minutes ago. . . . Roll over and firmly close eyes.
7 a.m.: Fellow across the road leaving for work. These military types are so keen. Arrrrgh. His car rolling over the gravel sounds like a cavalry charge at least. (This is a tiny cul de sac and very narrow: all my neighbours, sadly, know just exactly how much trouble I’m having with my computer on any given day: YOU STUPID )*&)}~#^%$£”!!!!!! OBJECT, WHAT IS *&^@?????~£$”!!!!! YOUR PROBLEM?!??!!!!
And this is, sadly, much worse, because I am now–and specifically because of Days in the Life–wholly, totally, and hours-every-day-ly addicted to on line. And I thought computers in themselves were wildly erratic and possessed by demons. This was but nothing compared to computers expected to go and furthermore stay on the internet. Arrrgh. Computer Man now has a little joke about moving in. I say the sofabed in the sitting room is very comfortable, and he says there would be advantages to the lack of two-year-old offspring. He likes the hellhounds.
This includes during the winter, with the windows shut). Turn over again, and this time put pillow over head.
8 a.m.: Start giving up on sleep. All kinds of early risers are out there having bright cheerful early-morning conversations. The little dogs at the top of the hill are barking frenziedly in the joy of seeing their mistress returning from the dangerous daily adventure of fetching the paper. I sympathise (heere bee dragons, you know) but I feel that merely falling on her and licking her vehemently all over would be a sufficient expression of their feelings on the matter. I would sanction a little whimpering while they performed this ritual.
8:15 a.m.: Sigh heavily. Remove pillow. Roll out of bed. This is an old four-poster and the horizontal frame is about hip high so the top of the mattress is a few inches above that. This means you have to leap into bed at night (after a rough day you wish you had a ladder) and falling out of it in the morning does serve to wake you up promptly. The rush isn’t quite as long-lasting as caffeine, but it’s definitely there.
Especially now when the stuff under the bed is starting to spill out around the edges. YEEP. WHAT DID I JUST STEP ON? –Generally speaking if it isn’t squishy and it doesn’t howl, I don’t worry about it.
8:20 a.m.: Reel downstairs and recoil in horror at scene of devastation. My evenings have two standard patterns: bell ringing till late [read the FAQ under ‘do you have any hobbies?'.
Yes! With brand new expanded BELL RINGING section of answer!!!
Or wait for future bulletins. If I manage to get this blog thing going, which my editor and agent say I have to or they'll make me tour {NO NO A THOUSAND TIMES NO I'D RATHER DIE THAN SAY YES} you'll be hearing more about bell ringing: brace yourselves]
HA HA HA HA HA HA HA
or going back to my desk till late. Both of these options neatly sidestep the necessary end-of-day general tidy-up (which is the only neat thing about it) although it’s worse on nights when I have dinner here by myself because Peter’s playing bridge (I ring: he bridges), because then it’s not only supper dishes in the sink but all the work I’ve dragged down from my office upstairs still sitting around in heaps.
Perhaps slightly rearranged by helpful hellhounds.
8:25 a.m.: Let my brace of hellhounds out of their crate. Ah, my hellhounds, the joy of my life and the apple of my eye. And a good thing too, because they are a tactical nightmare and incredible little time-sinks. (Speaking of time.)
Yes. Ahem. And as I recall, a year ago I was still hoping that their curious digestive policy was something they were going to grow out of and become, you know, normal.
Well, I did know what I was letting myself in for when I went for sighthounds again–what’s wrong with a nice miniature dachshund?–whilst living in a house somewhat smaller than Baba Yaga’s hut (whom I otherwise increasingly resemble) and with a garden nearly big enough for three rose bushes and a stunted foxglove. (Mind you, I have pushing twenty rose bushes
Yes, and as soon as I get a little more of the web site off my desk I have to go back to my autumn plant lists which I am hugely far behind on. But I can squeeze a few more rose bushes in. Yes. I can. Watch me.
and am working on developing a foxglove forest–not to mention the camellias, the clematises, the dahlias, the day lilies, the apple tree [sic],
Which is having one of its Weighed Down By Millions years. They’re really good apples too: it’s not just the thrill of reaching out your kitchen door and having an apple fall into your hand.
the Japanese maple tree [also sic, but it's a littlish thing in a pot: I also have a lilac and a smoke bush in pots], the delphiniums, the Japanese anemones, the rudbeckias–that’s the family that includes black-eyed susans, to you nongardeners, which are my favourite–the penstemons, the sedums, the pinks, the pansies, AKA There’s Always Room for Another Pansy, the snapdragons, geraniums, sweet peas, petunias, begonias, busy lizzies, the weeny herb garden in a sink, and various others . . . This is all perfectly necessary, you understand: Roses aren’t all that happy by themselves. But you don’t go out there without a whip and a chair either. And now there’s the Third House. Space for more rose bushes. And bookshelves. ‘Small’ being a somewhat more relative concept than anticipated, when we still had nine bedrooms and five attics. With reference to the above obscure aside about living in two houses not being insane. Living in two houses isn’t. Living in three houses. . . . More about all of this some time too.) I was letting myself in for a lot of walking. A LOT. And I’m not sorry: joy of my life, etc. But it’s still a lot of walking.
Yep. It is.
Spend about fifteen minutes luxuriously stroking hellhounds.
Mmmm. This is one of the big reasons to have dogs. You do get horses that don’t much like being stroked and fussed over, although my limited experience suggests that this is often a training/miscommunication thing, and once you find out what kind of stroking and fussing a horse likes, he or she likes it fine. But a dog that didn’t like being petted would break my heart.
I forgot to mention, in terms of domestic animals as time sinks, the amount of time spent in suspended-brain hedonistic warm-fur contact. Why did humans evolve bald? However this also gives me the opportunity to check for unpleasantnesses like ticks. Ugh. Ticks are always gross, but they’re maybe particularly gross when you’re less than fifteen minutes out of bed in the morning.
The tick story still etched in letters of fire in my memory concerns one of the first ticks I pulled out of these boys: Chaos, as it happened. It was on his penis. Dog penises–well, these dog penises–are rather soft and floppy, tucked up in their little furry sheaths, so getting it braced so you can get a grip on it is already somewhat challenging. So I’d already got most of myself folded up under Chaos’ hind leg–and I’m rather large for this work–and this is a particularly fat and swollen tick, and . . . it burst. Exuberantly. So I had dog-penis-blood and tick remains all over me, and a certain amount on the surrounding landscape of kitchen cabinetry. . . . Chaos seemed to think it was all a jolly new game. And, just by the way, I did get the horrible thing out. Usually the ones that burst burst because you left the head in. Ugggggh.
I now have a new, exciting, cutting edge technology Tick Remover which is a sort of itsy bitsy two-pronged fork. You slide it under the tick and twist: this way they don’t explode. Yaay. Can’t I just eschew ticks?
8:45: Seem to have enough clothes on by now to risk being seen in public.
Although I’ve been known to go raging out into the garden in an unsuitable lack of attire when hellhounds start to pee on a dahlia or a rudbeckia or a rose–since their little courtyard is a trifle festooned with pots. I have to hope the noise never rouses my semi-detached neighbour into looking out his bathroom window at these moments.
Hellhounds are happy to go with the warm-fur contact thing for as long as I want to keep it up (remarkable little voluptuaries, these boys: maybe I’ve just trained ‘em well)
Whatever works.
but they now identify my totterings as purposeful: yes: it’s that moment of moments, that pinnacle of pinnacles: it is time for THE MORNING WALK.
To be continued. . . .
Year after year after year after . . . AAAAAUGH. . . . .
However, in closing, allow me to offer you a link to a lovely and lamentably apropos cartoon that Blackbear sent me: http://wondermark.com/d/442.html
And HAPPY BLOG BIRTHDAY TO ALL OF US.
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Please join the discussion at Robin McKinley's Web Forum.
HAPPY FIRST BLOG BIRTHDAY!!!!!!
** Turn light back on long enough to drag books and various other hard pointy objects out from under where I’m trying to lie,
Yes. This is getting worse. See above. Well, I’ve run out of room under the bed. . . .**
And to think I thought I was the only person to have this problem……;-)
Not on THIS blog, honeybun. I bet there are a LOT of us. :)
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My former housemate made good strides towards making this problem better by putting the bed up on stilts before moving out and bequeathing it to me. I have to take a running leap to get on the bed, but at least the amount of stuff I can fit underneath (including such random things as a box full of hangers, also bequeathed by said former housemate and a large, mid-80s microwave of the “they don’t make ‘em like they used to, we’ll keep this one going until it falls to pieces” variety) is greatly increased. That part of my room isn’t oozing yet, although the bookshelves are getting very unhappy (I need to buy another one, but I’m completely out of room in my room unless I stand it out in the middle of the floor and trip on it all the time).
Name please . . .
How little has changed – quite scary really! Maybe gone downhill slightly, but that happens thing with the passage of time lol
****** I now have a new, exciting, cutting edge technology Tick Remover which is a sort of itsy bitsy two-pronged fork. You slide it under the tick and twist: this way they don’t explode. Yaay.
I begged one off my friendly vet nurse after finding a tick and having to leave it overnight since it wasn’t a medical emergency, and I didn’t want to leave the head to fester. Now I am licensed to kill – 0.007 – ticks:)
Hello, anon! Don’t forget to sign on!
In a million years (it feels like it) of pulling ticks off with tweezers I think I’ve had a festering head ONCE. But the itsy bitsy fork doesn’t squeeze polluted blood back INTO the dog again–as my vet explained, waving the fork at me.
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Hi! southdowner here :waves:
That anon was me, talking about tick removers – sorry! LJ has just eaten an entry I spent ages on when I pressed post, and then WordPress didn’t recognise me or my password – aaaarrrrggghhh!!!
Sorry, I think we collided–that also just happened to ME! If you glance out your window you will see a LARGE BLUE CLOUD forming over Hampshire!
I actually thought it sounded like you, but if I’d said hi southdowner it WOULDNT have been you!!!!
****** I actually thought it sounded like you, but if I’d said hi southdowner it WOULDNT have been you!!!!
Exactly! I am now posting my name in each comment, in case, but now they’ll be bound to become twinned southdowners all over the place ;p
I had to reply to this birthday entry because it was my birthday on Saturday, so I (almost) share the date – how auspicious is that???
(southdowner)
Oh yaay, happy birthday!!! YOu’re the 13th? COOOOOOL. You get to have Friday the 13th for a birthday!!!!!
YAY! ::rose petals::
Happy Anniversary!
But I can squeeze a few more rose bushes in. Yes. I can. Watch me.
:) We know you can. You’re inspirational. :)
The tick story ….
Oh ick. I just ate breakfast!! I hated ticks when I was in Germany. So glad my dogs don’t have them! (Although the feral pigs and wombats do…)
Yes. In Germany they are HORRIBLE. My cat’s record is 20 in one day last spring. Thankfully he’s laid back. One person tickles his chin and the other uses the mini-crowbar (as I call the fork) to pry them off his face.
R.W.
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Oh GROSS. If I get more than one a day on two biggish critters I feel VERY misused.
Happy Anniversary!
May I say that it’s been a wonderful year? Your entries arrive just as I get to work and switch on the computer, giving me a good start to even the worst of days.
The tick story…
*gulps*. I’m beginning to be glad I have a nice indoor bird. Even if he does try to chew everything. And regurgitate all over cardboard tubes. (Apparently they do this in spring…)
Thank you very much!
**over cardboard tubes**? Somehow I feel this is not how they behave in the wild. . . .
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Robin said about regurgitating birds: **over cardboard tubes**? Somehow I feel this is not how they behave in the wild. . . .
*** Well, six months ago, he seemed to think the tubes were cool toys. So we gave him some more to play with. Now, he seems to be a confused little bird, pining for a mate and some nice chicks that he could feed. (Well, we think so, anyway. He’s only two. It’s entirely possible that presented with such creatures, he would then pretend that he had no idea what to do with them, leaving us with the two-hourly feeds… and then keep regurgitating on the tubes.)
He’s just been to the vet for his annual checkup, so we know that he’s in great health. Perhaps I could distract him with some more clicker training. We do NOT have space/time for another bird, let alone a clutch…
We do NOT have space/time for another bird, let alone a clutch…
********* Heh heh heh heh.
Happy birthday to your blog! I started reading around November and it took me an awfully long time to open my mouth (I’m shy – I know it doesn’t show in general but large gatherings intimidate me), and I’m sure you’re now wishing I had kept it shut!
Well did you think you would keep it up for a year?
PS I loved blackbear’s cartoon link! Non-dusting, non window-cleaning, book and CD piling bibliophibians Unite!
Yes–Days in the Life of a Bibliophibian! :)
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Apropos nothing much except not washing windows, I was chuffed when we were at Kew Gardens in the Palm House, about to leave and I looked up and saw this:
http://www.flickr.com/photos/susan_from_athens/2825212725/in/set-72157607059662740/
I felt all superior!
And just because it’s an anniversary, and I didn’t get my thoughts all organised into one comment (it is almost four in the morning here) I wanted to take a moment to say
THANK YOU VERY MUCH INDEED
for all the hard slog and time you give to us, because you have created a lovely community and I have met some wonderful people here, not least of all you. And yes, I know that the you of the blog is an edited and limited version of the real Robin (hey you deserve some privacy) I wanted you to know that when I started reading your books way, way back when and in the years later when I continued to search for your name in every bookstore I stepped into, around the world, I never thought you would be anything more to me than an author’s name to look for and look forward to. But getting to know a bit about you on the blog has been an altogether GOOD THING in my life. Thanks again.
Thank YOU. As I’ve said above, I wouldn’t be here without you.
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Julia here, just to second EVERYTHING that Susan from Athens just said.
THANK YOU
THANK YOU
THANK YOU
This is wonderful, and you are wonderful.
You put up with my [often rambling and nonsensical] comments and constant admiration and craziness.
You put in so much effort and time and life into this. And Susan is right– you have created a community here- so many people who have been here for so long and while I don’t know any of you, I am glad to have met you [if that makes sense], especially you, Robin. [After all, it took me a good few months to start commenting, and a few more to start getting ridiculous, and still more to have the courage/temerity to actually address you directly as Robin.]
And I am grateful that I am privileged enough to have been around Days In The Life for [nearly] the full year, through so many trials and tribulations perhaps but also a great deal of laughter, happiness, and inspiration. Not to mention plenty of chocolate.
So I’ll stop blathering on and on now. Just wanted to say thanks.
Hugs and chocolate [how could I not say it?!]
–Julia
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Chocolate, chocolate, ALL is chocolate . . .
Remember that the blog surprised *me*, too. **Community?!?** WTF. But here we are. :) [ugh. Hope that doesn't come detestably fatuous.]
:)
**** **Community?!?** WTF. But here we are. :) ****
An overused word in many contexts, but still accurate. :)
Indeed. It does interest me that more or less the first thing that happens when there’s some great society-changing technological explosion . . . is that humans figure out how to make a community out of it. Yes, yes, gross generalisation. Even so.
If you don’t like ticks, avoid Chappaquiddick (in Massachusetts) at all costs. I once went there for a nice island weekend getaway. My boyfriend and I took a quick fifteen minute stroll on the beach. I discovered upon returning to our cabin that in that brief time I had collected 12 ticks which were losing no time in gleefully scurrying up my pants. Shudder. While I had an amusing [to others] freak out moment, I fortunately escaped unscathed. But I found out that the whole island is apparently covered in them. Needless to say, I slept somewhat uneasily that weekend. And, much later I later learned that the blood donation services apparently will not accept any blood from people who live there as it is assumed their blood is no good due to tick borne diseases. Of course that last part may be apocryphal.
On a much less creepy note, happy happy happy anniversary! You survived one year of this madness! ; ) Congratulations!!
Hmm. My worst tick experiences were when I lived in MA.
happy happy happy anniversary! You survived one year of this madness! ; ) Congratulations!!
*********** Yes . . . but now there’s a SECOND year of madness.. . .
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Happy Blog Birthday/Anniversary! How very exciting!
And Blackbear– that cartoon is just too perfect!
Hooray! For Robin especially, and for all of us as well.
Hugs, Chocolate, Party Hats, Balloons, Flowers, Bells Ringing Overhead [but Robin is down at the party with the rest of us. Unless we are all learning to ring. Either way, happy bells resounding over the countryside], Confetti, More Chocolate, And General Wonderfulness.
There, that should cover it, I think.
:)
–Julia
I feel covered. :)
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Oh Lord, that cartoon! Too true! I’m filling our house with piles and piles of books that come from publishers because of my work. I have two hallways lined with boxes of my books that haven’t been unpacked in 6 years (and three inter-state moves ago), and now my older son’s vacated bedroom (he moved out a little more than a year ago) is filling with more boxes!
And this is after I ruthlessly weeded my home collection before we left Hawaii in 1997. I have maybe three times as many books now.
And happy blog birthday. Reading Days in the Life has been a daily ritual for me for most of this past year.
And this is after I ruthlessly weeded my home collection before we left Hawaii in 1997. I have maybe three times as many books now.
******** Oh, gods, by the time Third House is usable I’ll have already OUTGROWN it. . . .
Thank you!
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Hippity Hoppity Happity Birthday, as Sandra Boynton once said. :) Like Susan, I didn’t catch up to your blog til November of last year–but I’m so very glad I did.
Ticks. Yet another good reason to keep my cats indoors; though around here fleas are much more an issue. All my experience with ticks, I regret to say, has been more personal–summer camp always meant 1-2 of the little ****ers being removed from my scalp by the camp nurse…
I HATE ticks. I woke up once one morning with one on my NECK and TOTALLY FREAKED OUT.
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I HATE ticks. I woke up once one morning with one on my NECK and TOTALLY FREAKED OUT.
GAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!
They’re better than centipedes. But only just.
They are NOT better than centipedes. Centipedes RUN AWAY, given the chance.
**** I woke up once one morning with one on my NECK and TOTALLY FREAKED OUT. ****
I got one IN BED once: it climbed aboard my neck while I was reading (and thankfully had not yet fallen asleep over my book). I can only assume that it rode upstairs on the dog, wandered off, and then climbed up onto the headboard. AAARRRGH!@!!@@ Needless to say, I did NOT fall asleep too quickly after that, and spent the rest of the summer examining the bed and bedstead for ticks before getting into it. Ticks are unspeakable.l
Yes. *****shudder.***** I absolutely don’t understand how long-haired-dog people COPE. Both with the ticks and with the thought that there may be some they missed that *will* go wandering. . . .
“I got one IN BED once: it climbed aboard my neck while I was reading (and thankfully had not yet fallen asleep over my book).”
I agree disgusting in the most tremendous sense: you get a feeling that nowhere is safe. I had a similar experience with a cockroach: I woke up one morning and found one crushed beneath me in bed. To say I freaked out would be mild. I can cope with roaches, but NOT IN MY BED!
Ah, cockroaches. I keep thinking my list of hated live things is *short*. . . .
I have wondered exactly the same thing about The Blue Castle, which is my most often re-read L. M. Mongomery….. well, at least I’ve wondered something along those lines, because I’ve managed to maintain a sort of willful naivete surprisingly late in life. But if she had been writing fifty years later she wouldn’t have been writing the same books, so I’m okay with continuing to wonder. Life needs a little mystery.
And happy blog-birthday!
YAY! *confetti* *rain of chocolates*
And what a glorious year it has been. I’m not sure exactly when I came in. There were a few entries there when I first found your LJ, but it couldn’t have been too long after. They hadn’t gone off the first page yet. And shortly after that I died of squee because a) you were *nice* and b) you liked my ferrets. Yay!
Good times.
Tick story: Ewwwwww.
Roses: If you couldn’t find a way to fit a few more in, I would wonder if you weren’t feeling well.
And what a glorious year it has been.
************* Oh good. :)
I’m not sure exactly when I came in. There were a few entries there when I first found your LJ, but it couldn’t have been too long after. They hadn’t gone off the first page yet. And shortly after that I died of squee because a) you were *nice*
*********** Whew. I keep worrying I won’t be able to keep it up, the stage make up will start to run . . . :)
and b) you liked my ferrets. Yay!
*********** Things with legs and fur are almost always my friends. :)
Good times.
Tick story: Ewwwwww.
Roses: If you couldn’t find a way to fit a few more in, I would wonder if you weren’t feeling well.
************ LOL! Well, you get that right!
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Happy Blog Birthday!! *sends roses and the very best chocolate*
I’ve thoroughly enjoyed the dogs and horses and bells and roses and books and yes, even the trials and tribulations.
And I could not helping thinking of you this past week as I reached “The Nine Tailors” in my Lord Peter reread. Bells and floods and love of books. I researched for bell ringing when I first read it and was greatly disappointed to find that there was really nothing within many hours of Jamestown, Ohio and thus my bell-ringing interest would have to be vicarious. Handbells there are, but there’s something about the big ones that just feels majestic.
I am now addicted to Wondermark and have had to add it to my LJ feeds! I blame you. (This is a Good Thing, heh).
I am looking forward very much to the next year.
*flings self-cleaning confetti*
I am now addicted to Wondermark and have had to add it to my LJ feeds! I blame you. (This is a Good Thing, heh).
*********** Blackbear shares blame!! –I haven’t quite added the feed, but I’m CLOSE. I keep thinking ‘I have to change my pants’ and going off in peals. :)
I am looking forward very much to the next year.
********* Thank you!
*flings self-cleaning confetti*
********* YESSSSSSSSSSSS. I hope you have a patent on this . . . :)
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Congratulations on the Blog’s Birthday!
And blessings upon you and all the commentators … together you have give me something to look forward to even on the worst of days.
And skating season started again tonight … yeah! another link in the chain of sanity!
Re. the cartoon and “too many books” I have been wondering about tightly packed books as a form of insulation …
And thank you for the comments on the Blue Castle (I read it online). I too wondered about their lives post wedding and before the fateful moment.
I have a feeling that Bibliophibians might indulge in the sport of bog snorkeling … which may or may not be related to blog snorkeling.
blog snorkeling.
******** LOL!
Thank you!
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****** I have been wondering about tightly packed books as a form of insulation …
It works! I have a rom entirely lined (2 deep mostly) by books, barring windows and doors, and it is always much warmer in there than anywhere else. Of course the dogs act as mini heat emitters also :)
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“Of course the dogs act as mini heat emitters also :)”
Not all of us can have 11 heating elements running at the same time!
happy birthday to your blog and may there be many more to come! ticks ehh. i just got rid of fleas on my cat and that was bad enough.i don’t know how she got them because sh is an inside cat but it was a first and hopefully the last time. i hope the hellhounds are well.
Fleas are weaselly. Indoors won’t save you. :(
Thank you!
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You have to wonder about Montgomery’s family and friends, given her marvelous, horrible portrayal of family in A Tangled Web, The Blue Castle, and even some of the Emily and Anne series. I must say that finding out about neurasthenia a couple of years ago was great- a medical condition specifically designed for delicate and sensitive people!- but it takes some of the joy out of reading her novels to find out how miserable she was a lot of the time. Now we’d probably say she had a terrible marriage (which she did) to a bipolar and heavily depressive man, and brooded her way into depression herself.
Anyway, it’s very late for me, so this is incoherent, but happy anniversary, and isn’t it terrible to be a) awful with computers, and b) addicted to the internet. Bad combination.
But she DID write the novels and I’m here to tell you that in bad moments it’s a *comfort.*
isn’t it terrible to be a) awful with computers, and b) addicted to the internet. Bad combination.
*********** YES.
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Happy blog birthday! And thanks for all the time and effort you put into the blog.
Thank YOU. :)
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Wow. A full year. Well, I didn’t find this right off, but it’s still been a while. >.>
Sadly, I have no room under my bed, as it’s directly on the floor. I make up for it by having piles of stuff surrounding it and…uh…. everything else. Mostly books, because I never have enough bookshelves. Oh, and the random vials of perfume that get everywhere. Fortunately, I’ve only once found a live mouse under my pillow (courtesy of my… enthusiastic indoor/outdoor cats. They bring mice in, they play with them. Sometimes they kill them. Sometimes they forget that bit. If I’m -really- lucky, I’ll find half of one somewhere. Ew.), though I’ve picked up a habit of checking under my pillows before I flop down to sleep.
We keep talking about doing a rose bush or two here, though they need a whole lot more care in Oregon than they did in Cali. Still, I miss my father’s rose garden… I grew up with about 20 rose bushes of various sorts and a bunch of fruit trees. Now I have herbs and lavender that may or may not be dead….
Anyhow! Congrats on the anniversary, I love reading.
Thank you!
There are roses that thrive on neglect, and Oregon is a GOOD place for roses.
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Happy Blog Anniversary! As a result of the past year I am now regularly to be found at the computer at 2 a.m.–though I should add, not *literally* found because everyone else in this house is asleep by then. It is, in fact, 2 a.m. now. Time management is not getting any better around here. :)
****the amount of time spent in suspended-brain hedonistic warm-fur contact.****
Too true–I’m not sure whether the mental state is zen or vegged out, but “a few minutes” turns into a half hour with absolutely no sense of the passage of time. Unlike the Alpha Bitch, the puppy is a cuddler. (She lives up to her name and is physically affectionate on *her* terms and schedule.) Cuddling a puppy is the worst for doing this.
****and this is a particularly fat and swollen tick****
Oh ick ick ick. I do OK with ticks before they get engorged, which is why we do extensive tick checks all summer whenever the dogs come in, and why I NEED short-haired dogs–but I am seriously grossed out by well-fed ones. If I could wave a wand and get rid of some creature on this planet, ticks would be very high on the list of Things To Go. Probably nothing would miss them.
****a lovely and lamentably apropos cartoon that Blackbear sent me****
Great cartoon! Thanks, Blackbear. Only one caveat: I’m not sure books = “stuff”! :)
Time management is not getting any better around here. :)
&&&&&&&&&&&& I’m glad to have company. :)
****the amount of time spent in suspended-brain hedonistic warm-fur contact.****
Too true–I’m not sure whether the mental state is zen or vegged out,
&&&&&&&&&&& Both?
but “a few minutes” turns into a half hour with absolutely no sense of the passage of time. Unlike the Alpha Bitch, the puppy is a cuddler. (She lives up to her name and is physically affectionate on *her* terms and schedule.) Cuddling a puppy is the worst for doing this.
&&&&&&&&&&&&& Yes, but they aren’t puppies long, so go for it. :) Fortunately my guys still like cuddling, although their idea of what it consists of gets a little various.
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thanks for a year of sharing your life with us
:)
Thank you for reading!
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Meant to post this in relation to your Sunshine post, but couldn’t.
If you’re looking for rainbows, stand with your back to the sun and look 42 degrees to your right. That’s where they are if they exist. Always. I learned this useful fact at the Edinburgh Science Fair in 2001 and have used it many times since.
Apparently you always get a double rainbow, as well, but it’s often too pale to see easily.
LOL! I’m sure. I’ll post next time about KNOWING I’m looking in the right direction . . . and STILL can’t find it.
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Happy Birthday!!!!!
One year. That’s a lot of writing. Congrats!
R.W.
That’s a lot of writing
************ Yes. I’m trying not to think about it.
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Hey, congratulations!
I used to call myself a bibliovore – until I got bored with explaining what I meant.
And by the way if it is of any use, I live near Kew Gardens and when the time is right can photograph their Rose Walk when it’s in bloom if you want…
And so glad 3 year old people are less tick-y than dogs!
Oooh! Yes please!
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Happy blog birthday! Though part of me wishes you would tour instead so I could meet you, the more sane part of me realizes that I love reading you every day and if you were to show up near me, I’d be far too shy to ever actually approach you and mumble so much as an, “Ireallylikeyourbooksyou’reneatcanyousignthisplease”. So it’s probably better this way all around.
>> Did I ever tell you that I enjoyed L M Montgomery’s Blue Castle enormously?
NO. No, you did not. At least not in my line of sight. But I’m so glad!!
With that book, the other kind of Romantic in me (i.e. “let’s all live in the wonders of nature and eschew anything that conflicts with beauty”) tears up not so much over the love scenes, but over the absolutely delicious descriptions of months and mists and trees and seasons. (You know…the parts most people skip over, grumbling, “Stop with the descriptions already, Lucy. We GET it…nature’s pretty.”) She does it better in this book than in any other she wrote, I think.
You may also want to check out her “A Tangled Web” if you haven’t. Though now that I’m saying that, it feels like we’ve had this conversation before, so ignore me if I’m being redundant.
Blackbear’s cartoon link? That is *so* my excuse–which is regularly mocked as everyone who knows me knows I’ve never wanted and never plan to have children. But so what? I also have several names for the fictional offspring, so why not collect books for them, too? (Which, as I’m bizarrely considering adopting an 11-year-old, may turn out to be prophetic). Thanks for the link–I shall be blowing it up and hanging it on a wall somewhere.
One of the things that tickles me about the cartoon is the old ‘how many of them do you actually READ’ line that every bibliophibian hears at regular intervals. I have to say however that I think she may be making a mistake MARRYING someone who says that. . . .
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And the answer is, “All of them. More than once.”
Happy Bloggingversary! You should make something chocolatey for the occasion.
(Now feeling a little like a twit. Again. See below. The congo rats comment should have come here. So much for multitasking.)
- tick story -
Thank you for reminding me why I have NO pets or children :-) Although if I had half your talent for making me laugh while cringing I’d be making a living writing instead of contemplating varsity again.
- working out sleep hours –
OK HOW do you do it? I am not fit to be called humanoid unless I’ve had at least 8 hours… and I have given up most of my time-imploding habits…
-and finally – CONGRATULATIONS on surviving a year’s blogging, and THANK YOU for doing it with such style, humour and vocabulary :-)
Thank YOU. And I was an eight hours’ sleep person till menopause. That is the ONE, ONE, SINGLE, ONLY, ONE good thing to be said for it. And I admit it IS a good one (but . . .).
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I was an eight hours’ sleep person till menopause.
– oh. drang. Ok um only a couple of decades to go then. Sigh. I am SO in angry envy of anyone who can take less than 8 AND STILL BE (#$^&#*%^ CHEERFUL.
BTW your new website is gorgeous. Well done for all that sweaty word-churning and to Blogmom for a beautiful design. I like the photos :-)
Liking the words goes without saying. I have reached the state that when I log on in the evening I am briefly distraught that you haven’t blogged. Then, of course, I remember that it arrives at about 5AM, and I read it already this morning. Eish. (and thank you, again)
You’re welcome! Thank *you*! (And if you felt like it, you might email Blogmom and tell her how wonderful she is too.)
Oh, and you aren’t mistaking me for CHEERFUL, are you? :)
Thank you for sharing parts of your life with us via the blog over the last year.
I discovered the blog in March, because my niece, who lives in America, was coming home for a visit, so I checked your website to see if you’d written anything recently that she could buy and bring over for me (I am very sad to report that the shelves of Australian bookshops are generally NOT thickly sprinkled with R. McKinley offerings.) Indeed, there was a book that I hadn’t encountered, “Dragonhaven”, so she was commissioned to get that for me, and look – there’s a link to a blog to investigate, too.
And after that it became a bit of a habit to just check in quickly most days to see what was happening in Hampshire, and to meet lots of other interesting and like-minded people who read all the right books, cook delicious food and have access to some great cartoons.
I’ve had a bit of a rough year, what with chemo, pneumonia, radio therapy, et al (I’m happy to say it’s all behind me now) so I have really been looking to savor the small joys in life. This has been one, so, thanks.
Zowie, you sure have had a rough year. May this be a GOOD one.
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If you ever don’t have your fancy tick remover, I’ve discovered a great method for getting ticks out of dogs. Nailpolish! Just dab a little on that sucker and he’ll pop right out!
LOL! I’m a lot likelier to have a tick remover than nail polish!
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Congratulations on the first anniversary of your blog. The traditional present for a first anniversary is something made of paper, so I’m a bit stumped for ideas in regard to a blog…virtual paper perhaps? Paper something seems appropriate for a writer, anyway. :)
Anyway, thank you for all your time and stories, much appreciated.
Thank you for reading. I wouldn’t be here without you, you know.
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Happy Birthday Blog and Blogger!
I hope, as you seem to enjoy celebrating anniversaries a great deal, that champagne and chocolate were involved. No celebration is complete without them!
(Though celebratory tick-pulling could be forgone without too much sadness, I imagine.)
that champagne and chocolate were involved
*********** How did you guess? :)
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Happy anniversary!! Very exciting (and perhaps a bit frightening; I know that anniversaries always make me sit up and look around going, “But… it just seemed like a month or two ago. Where did all that time go?”).
As a side note, I’m glad you liked The Blue Castle. It’s long been my favorite L.M. Montgomery book; she has a good eye for strong characters, but tends a bit towards purple prose in some of her work. The wit she used in this one (and ways she managed to poke fun at some of the skewed ideals of her day) have always drawn me; she uses it in some of her other books, but not nearly as much as in BC.
Re the wedding night: there’s one phrase in the book where Valancy says something along the lines of, “I don’t expect you to make love to me, but I want us to have normal conversations.” I spent much time being confused about their relationship when I was younger, wondering if they REALLY spent all those months being married and abstinent. It wasn’t until reading another of her books awhile later where one of the main characters talked about her love interest making love to her in front of her family (or in a very public place, or both), and then expanded on this, that I discovered that in LMM’s day this phrase had a meaning more akin to flirting.
Anyway, just had to share. Today has been a particularly discouraging job hunt day (for a post-zoo job); I HATE job hunting. So I dropped by to see what was going on here, and was cheered to see the birthday posting. Yay!
danceswithpahis
Good luck with the job hunt!
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“Today has been a particularly discouraging job hunt day (for a post-zoo job); I HATE job hunting. ”
Good luck indeed, danceswithpahis. Looking for work is awful, but hey it may be your lucky break coming up!
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Robin and Susan: Thanks to both of you for the encouragement. My problem is that I’m still not sure what I want to do with my life, having spent most of it moving towards one particular vocational goal that I tried for 4 1/2 years and discovered that that was enough, at least for now (I still haven’t given up on that goal in some modified, less exhausting way, sometime in the future, but for now I’m resting and recovering). Which unfortunately means that most of my post-college work experience is in a field that I want to leave, meaning that I feel like I’m starting from scratch. I’m doing my best to get things figured out and find out what I want to do with myself. Which might include going to school again (I really want to, but not until I figure out what exactly I’m going to study), or finding a career, or just marking time professionally for awhile while pursuing non-work-related sorts of things (such as dancing). If I at least knew which one of these options (or another, largely unrelated option) I wanted to pursue, it would make things easier. If the job market weren’t so lousy right now, it would also make it easier. But I made it through yesterday and at the end of the day felt like I couldn’t do ANYTHING that I could make a living off of. Sigh. I know it’s not true, but that’s what it feels like right now.
“Today has been a particularly discouraging job hunt day (for a post-zoo job); I HATE job hunting. ”
I hope that tomorrow goes better for you, that whatever you decide to do will be waiting for you. Taking time to do things you enjoy, like dancing sounds a great idea – sending you good wishes
****But I made it through yesterday and at the end of the day felt like I couldn’t do ANYTHING that I could make a living off of. Sigh. I know it’s not true, but that’s what it feels like right now.****
Changing career paths is not easy even when you are entirely sure about what you want to do. And you have to pay the bills, but don’t want to get stuck in the stopgap bill-paying job. Job-hunting under even the best of circumstances can be deeply discouraging, as I know from my own experience. Best of luck to you. :: lights candle ::
Oh dear, I do feel for you. I have had so many friends go through just what you are facing, and at all stages of life.
I have noticed that no matter how bad making the change seems, it is better than sticking with something which simply isn’t working.
Job hunting in this sort of economy is down right scary. When I saw that I was either going to leave a job I loved and was very very good at or sink into the worst depression I had ever known and keep the job, I decided to take stock by making a list. On it I wrote down everything I like to do, whether they were money makers or not. I learned quite a few things … go over the list, annotate, revise, make knowing yourself your job for a while. I found it helpful to focus on skills, strengths, passions, rather than “careers”.
At almost sixty I could see that a job which would make up for the one I was leaving was probably not going to happen. Luckily I had no debts and I was vested in a smallish pension and an annuity. I have also lived frugally for ages. I decided to see what I could do to create a “new” me. It’s still a work in progress. Looking at the list of “loves” on a regular basis helps me keep perspective, and volunteering reassures me that I making a contribution.
I asked friends/colleagues/my shrink/my pastor to look at my list with me, and to share their knowledge. I read a lot of books too and in the end decided that retirement was going to give me the time I had always lacked to explore all sorts of things. I guess what I’m trying to say is look for balance … give yourself time, ask for help, breathe, treat yourself gently. A bad day, a bad week, a bad year is not the end of the world unless you decide that it will be.
I don’t want to come off as an idiot, but I really believe life is good, and maybe my hopefulness can shine like a candle for you.
Happy Blog Birthday. Champagne, strawberries and whipped cream for all.
I hope the sun is out there. Maybe the sun will come out here. Missouri just got hit with the remnants of Ike. I’m glad I still have power. I can’t believe a Midwestern state just got a lot of power lines knocked out by the leftovers of a hurricane.
I’m told *Ohio* got it badly. Go figure.
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Happy anniversary! I must say I’m really glad it’s taken off and your personal preference and the hellhounds made this the choice rather than the tour. I’ve loved the chance to get to know you.
I’m really empathizing with the bedtime thing. I’m a natural night owl anyway…then the fibro made things worse…and now the pregnancy has me on a total nocturnal schedule. My husband has been threatening to move us to a different time zone so I can be on a normal schedule, but at this point, it would necessitate moving to the opposite side of the world.
Yes, and your body clock would merely switch BACK. If it wants dark and moonlight, that’s what it’s GOING TO HAVE. Although I wonder about this is saying about the baby you’re carrying. :)
Thank you!
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OMG, I loved the Blue Castle SO MUCH. (I know that’s very geeky and fan-girl, but I say the same thing about Beauty.) I’m on my 3rd copy of it, I think. My thoughts were similar to yours: I, too, thought the awful family was genius, and I’d like to know the lead-up to the clinch too.
Thank you for giving us fresh, regular doses of you in between books. It’s been so much fun, and beats touring all hollow because 75% of us wouldn’t be able to make it. :P
Virtual champagne and chocolate!
Alannaeowyn
Thank you! :)
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Happy blog anniversary! We fans are lucky that you do it; a little McKinley prose every morning is like starting your day with a piece of chocolate.
“The Blue Castle” is a favorite of mine (and I’m glad there are so many who agree). The wedding night is left a mystery, but I thought there *was* a reference to the couple’s sex life (gracefully coded) in the paragraph (in chapter 30) that describes their hunts for, and consumption of, blueberries and strawberries: “How pretty blueberries were–the dainty green of the unripe berries, the glossy pinks and scarlets of the half ripes, the misty blue of the fully matured! …Here they found [straw-]berries that might have graced the banquets of Lucullus, great ambrosial sweetnesses hanging like rubies to long, rosy stalks. They lifted them by the stalk and ate them from it, uncrushed and virgin, tasting each berry by itself with all its wild fragrance ensphered therein.”
It seems to me that the marriage has heated up…or maybe I’m seeing things that aren’t there, and Montgomery’s nature-loving, um, nature, just got out of hand. But that paragraph still makes me blush.