- We closed on our refinance last week. Not even a year here and we already refinanced. That’s sort of surreal. The re-fi saves us about a thousand dollars a year, which is very nice.
- Today I’m going to mail our property tax appeal documents. If this works, it will mean significant property tax savings. This house was last assessed during the height of the real estate bubble and is over assessed by about thirty percent as a result. Fingers crossed.
- I found a WordPress plugin that does SMTP authorization, which my host requires for sending email. This means that, at last, blog comments will be emailed to me again.
- My daffodils are by this unseasonably cold weather. I hope the warm up coming in the next few days will jump-start them and that they haven’t been lost for good this year.
- Saturday I finally go curtains for the dining room. They were out of stock, of course, but should be delivered soon. It will be so nice to get rid of those hideous blue things that were here when we moved in.
In honor of my recently passed 8th blogging anniversary, I thought it might be fun to totally slack off on posting even more by reposting old garbage repost some of the early posts. A lot of you who read here now weren’t around back then, so this old crap will seem like new to you it might be neat to share some of my early posts without you having to dive through the archives to find it.
Today marks the 8th anniversary of my very first blog post. Looking back at my old posts from the first few years of blogging, I’m struck by two things:
- Holy crap I had a lot to say.
- Holy crap I was so passionate about all those things I had to say.
I’m going to go with “passionate” in that second point, rather than “opinionated,” “overbearing,” or “cocky.” Let’s stick with “passionate.”
It hardly needs pointing out that I don’t post here nearly as much as I used to do. Part of that is that I’ve mellowed, and I’m not nearly as… ahem… passionate about a lot of things as I used to be. Part of it is that I got tired of being so, you know, passionate. Part of it is that Twitter has taken the place of the multiple short little blog posts I used to make. And part of it is that my audience has changed. Where pretty much everyone who read my blog eight years ago was either a blogger herself, an otherwise online-only acquaintance, or my mother, now the people who read this site are mostly people I know in meatspace.
That, Dear Reader, is daunting.
I don’t feel like I can be nearly as free about what I post now, which sometimes makes me sad, and oftentimes makes for a lack of posting. Some things have been verbotten since the very beginning. Things like the inner workings of my relationship with Scott, for example. That’s always been and always will be off limits for such a public venue, but now I’m also less likely to talk about all those girl troubles the way I used to do. I’m also more likely to keep my more passionate political opinions to myself, for fear of offending friends I know are equally passionate about opposing opinions.
As a result, I have a lot less to talk about here, because let’s face it, without cervical mucus and abortion, what do I really have?
But I keep this place around anyway, even if all I really use it for these days is talking about knitting now and then and posting cat photos. Every once in a while, I do have something of more substance that I want to talk about, and I plan to continue doing that. Who knows? Whole new chapters may be opening up soon. In the meantime, we’ll just keep on chugging along on cat photos.
Scott and I were in the car on Saturday and the topic of our blogs came up. He noted how my blog has changed quite a bit over the last two years, and that can’t be denied.
One of the big things, of course, is that I don’t post here nearly as often as I used to. Twitter has been a huge factor in that, but my posting rate was dropping off long before I signed up for Twitter. I recently decided to try to remedy the Twitter problem, though, by vowing that anything that would take more than two tweets to say should be posted on the blog, instead. That’s why I posted the “Conversations with the Old Man” post the other day. I used to post funny little snippets of the day* like that all the time. I’d like to try to do that again, and those things are too long for Twitter.
By far, though, the biggest change in the blog that I see is in the types of things I post. When I started blogging seven years ago, I decided to do it because I felt like I had a little something to say on the subject of this whole infertility thing and that maybe people just might want to hear it. At the very least, I felt like I needed a place to rant and rave and vent and get it all out, because if I didn’t, I was going to explode. And blogging was great for that. Not only did I get a place to dump all the crap out of my head and my heart and my soul, but I found a lot of women who were going through the same thing**, and it was nice to not feel so alone.
As a result of starting off talking about infertility, I was pretty open about body stuff. It was easy then, because the people who read the blog were only my friends inside the computer and I didn’t have to look them in the eye they day after they read all about my cervical mucus. Back then, I would have written for days about how I actually got my period while I was laying a a hospital bed after this last surgery, and gone into gory detail about the nightmare of trying to deal with that during a hospital stay and the humiliation of having to beg a nurse for supplies and how modern hospitals still seem to think it’s 1955 when it comes to girly supplies. But now, a lot of the people who read my blog are people I know in meatspace. If I write about that hospital incident***, the next time I see one of them I won’t be able to look them in the eye because I’ll feel like they’re just thinking about that post.
So that’s the main thing I’ve been struggling with lately when it comes to choosing what to write about. Don’t get me wrong. I absolutely love that the people I know find me interesting enough to come back here to read what I have to say. I’m deeply flattered even if I can’t really figured out why they’d bother. When I see people in person and they say that something I wrote about struck them or made them think about something or strangers come up to me at shows and tell me I have pretty cats, it makes me happy to hear. It’s just that I don’t necessarily want them coming up to me and telling me that they read about my period. You know?
I decided that I’m going to try to balance it. Maybe stick mostly with the nice, fluffy things I’ve been talking about lately like food and knitting and cats and sort of ease people into the old school style of this blog by now and again tossing out a phrase like “egg white cervical mucus.” Just to see what happens.
* Whatever, dude. I always thought they were funny. Maybe no one else did or does, but I did and do.
** And just about all of them are mothers now, either through adoption or ART, and here I am still stuck in neutral. But that’s a rant for another day.
*** Yeah, yeah. I realized that I basically just DID write about that hospital incident, but in nowhere near the detail I would have gone into it a couple of years ago. People, I can write pages and pages about my period if I get going. This? This is nothing.