On December 15, 2006, Marvin set up a little blog for me on Blogspot, so’s I could talk about how we were going to go a year without spending money. (I realize I’m writing this on December 14, but I needed to do this in the evening after work and I didn’t want to wait till that late tomorrow and oh who cares.)
Is that even still a thing, Blogspot? Is that even still a thing, money? Is that even still a thing, Marvin?
…I just looked. Blogspot is still a thing. Here. My old blog, with Queen Elizabeth’s face on it. Which is what Prince Philip often said about his lap.
I see, in that first blog post ever, lo these 15 years ago (14 years and 364 days ago and oh, who cares), I identify Marvin Gardens as my husband, and then he is the first to comment and he does so WITH A DIFFERENT SCREEN NAME and now I am annoyed all over again. We say your name is Marvin Gardens. Sign in as Marvin effing Gardens.
GOD, Marvin.
Anyway. What a change-y 15 years it’s been. Back then, I lived in Burbank, commuted one hour each way to my job near Santa Monica, and oh, right, I was married. Also, we didn’t all hate each other. Remember that? When we might not have even KNOWN if our friends were liberal or conservative? Or vaccinated?
Now I’m divorced, with 257 cats, living in North Carolina. I wouldn’t have predicted any of this, except of course for the 257 cats part.
I guess in 15 years a lot always happens, unless you’re Miss Havisham or something. Unless you’re Delta Variant Dawn what’s that flower you got on.
Have you missed me? Have you missed my current and not at all obsessive references to Delta Dawn? Have you missed me taking you to that mansion in the skyyyy? Interestingly, I was 41 when I began blogging. Not to mention all the folks round Brownsville said I’m crazy.
Let’s talk about these past 15 years while I carry that suitcase in my hand. Because these were the years I “met” all y’all all. I met Paula H&B, and Jan, and Sadie, and Doxie. I met people here who then went away, never to be heard from again. I met people I got attached to, who then up and died like Mr. Bojangle’s dog. I met people I got mad at. Or who got mad at me.
You know what I like? Is sometimes on social media, I’ll notice some of you are friends with each other. And I’ll think, “I didn’t know they knew each other.” Then it delta dawns on me you know each other, in most cases, because you read my stupid blog. It’s so nice! I’m like Thanksgiving, when you gather together to hear the June’s blog post.
Starting a blog is the best thing I ever did, even though Marvin did it. Marvin came up with all kinds of good ideas for me, if you want the truth. He’s the one who said I should stop being a receptionist and look into being a proofreader. Which led to me being a copy editor. Which led to me being a copywriter, and look at me now, all in charge of the world. Or not. Still! It led to an actual career. Sometimes I wonder what new thing Marvin would’ve told me to do. Maybe I’d be a star on ChapSnatch now, or whatever it’s called. DickDock. What’s it called?
Anyway, I gathered you all here today to hear the June’s blog post and to say thank you for 15 years. For those of you who stuck around, from the move to North Carolina, to my divorce, to the Ned years, till now: thank you. For those of you who made friends with each other, or who sent me coffee when I was going through the indignities of life, even for the people who talked about what a rotten person I was on Reddit: thank you.
I am not shutting this blog down for good or anything. If something major or annoying happens, I’ll traipse over here for a hello and an OH MY GOD GUESS WHAT. Maybe half a dozen of you will be left and it’ll be like my early days in 2006, when three or four people would leave a comment.
(Look at how many jerky comments people left on that first blog post a mere 14 years and 364 days ago! So unsupportive! Geez! It’s a wonder I successfully kept at a year of not spending BUT I DID.)
Also, since I last wrote you in July, I found some bandanas at the CVS half a mile from my front door, bandanas I captured on film and huffily texted to The Poet, who is in therapy to try to forget that day at Target that I last blogged about. She has PTSD—post-traumatic scarf disorder.
Also I have acquired another cat, and I’d love to show you a photo, because you haven’t seen enough cat shots from me in 14 years and 364 days, but I opted for cheap WordPress and I don’t think I can bloop a photo in anymore.
He is a pleasant sort. The cat is. His name is Ziggy. It would appear that he is somewhat Siamese. Lilly the person and I headed way out to the country and got him. We also snatched up his brother, and oh, what the heck, also too his sister, thereby cleaning out the inventory of the guy trying to find homes for his kittens. So I have Ziggy and Chris and Lilly have Pearl and Monty, who both look a lot like Ziggy because genetics.
Since I can’t show you Ziggy or his littermates, picture white kittens who might be Siamese. It’s like you’re blind Mary Ingalls and I am Laura, painting pictures with my words.
Oh! Also! My floor! Oh, lord help us everyone, my floor! Since we last spoke, I got the
WISE
idea to RIP UP my ’90s beige flooring to expose the wood floor below. I really don’t think I can show you images, which is a shame, because it turns out, under the beige ’90s was the green-and-orange ’70s and oh lord, that floor was cool. But the rip-the-floor guy unceremoniously ripped that up too, and right now my kitchen has this depressing brown guck all over the hardwood, a brown guck the floor refinishers will have to remove. There are two segments to this flooring journey: Rip-the-floor guy first, which has been done, and then refinish-the-floor guys second, which takes awhile to schedule. They get here January 10, and I am Jackie Kennedy at Delta Dawn’s funeral, so stoic am I about living this way WHICH IS DREADFUL.
{Pulls veil on pillbox hat dignifiedly.}
So that’s all.
Happy anniversary to all of you who have spent 15 years with me. Is what I just meant to say, really. But then I got off on this tangent.
Is this even a thing, a blog anniversary?
Bye bye, buy!
Bye bye, pie!
There went another chapter in the Book of June! Prettiest woman you ever laid eyes on!