When I began this little weblog, I worried that 1. I would starve the thing by failing to feed it words and 2. I would say something terribly important and would therefore miss the opportunity to say the same thing somewhere else and get paid for it.
I can honestly say that neither fear came to pass. I managed to post with nearly admirable finesse – okay, so I missed a few days – and I am quite sure I said nothing so deeply profound that it should be within the pages of my someday NY Times bestseller.
Feeding the blog wasn’t always a piece of cake, pun intended, I guess. There were days when I knew I had nothing important to say and days when I knew I had no energy to say what was important to me. But I have to say I am glad I found a way, somehow, to keep getting a word in Edgewise (get my little joke?) because blogging is journaling and journaling is making sense of your world and making sense of your world keeps you from caving in when times get tough.
I read, reviewed and promoted a number of really good books this past year, my favorite is still “The Thirteenth Tale,” which I yakked about on January 1.
My favorite pictures that I posted this year are of my little cactus garden, which sad to say came upon some bad luck last week when we had some siding removed from the back of the house. My husband told me it’d be best if I didn’t go back there until he has a chance to see who’s alive and who is not. I am thankful then, to have these baby photos, because, I fear it is all I have. There is comfort in knowing I didn’t spend much and I can always buy more.
My favorite post of the year is August 3, not because I wrote such wonderful words but because I finally came to terms with myself and admitted I am not the happy sanguine I’ve always wanted to be. I’m a no-nonense choleric. That’s just the way it is. It’s about time I realized I am not like my yellow Lab. You can’t be what you wish you were. You are who you are. I can be a redeemed choleric. I can even be a nice choleric. But I yam what I yam. And it’s best that I just be as genteel a yam as I can be.
Thanks for sharing the year with me. You’ve made it worth every word.