Today marks over half a year blogging every day. Can I hear a woo? And also a hoo? (to quote Mamacate yet again)
The originator of Blog 365 has dropped out. Blasphemy. But we're still standing. Not only standing, but enjoying it more every day. For me it's as easy and natural as brushing my teeth -- easier, it seems, since I usually blog before I've brushed my teeth. I may not write something really life-changing or worthwhile every day, but I'm heeeeere! I'm heeeere and I love it. It feels weird if I don't write every day, even if nobody is reading -- but a few of you stalwarts still are. And a woo and a hoo for you too!
We all -- well, by "we all," I mean Sandy and I, because we are the only two who've talked about it together -- were surprised to learn that the originator of the project was a "he." All along, for some inexplicable reason, we thought it was a she. That's neither here nor there, but here is his post explaining why he stopped. He has good reasons -- "life trumps blog," and he "was spending way too much time trying to think of what to blog."
That sort of thinking kills me. I don't see it that way at all. I'm always thinking anyway, and always doing something, even if it's just going to the grocery store, so it's EASY to think of something to blog. To each his own, I guess. I find it slightly ironic that he ends his post with, "If you want to hire me as a pro blogger, I'm available." Hahahahaahha.
Shall I translate? "I find it impossible to blog every day. But hire me. I would be good at the job." Ahem.
Nevah mind. I don't mean to bash him, and I know it's coming off that way, so I'll stop while I'm ahead. But you know I've always been known to say what I think, say what I mean, and mean what I say, right? Plus, I'm in a somewhat shitty mood so I can't be held responsible for bashing.
But back to the topic of blogging, who says what you write has to be earth-shatteringly interesting anyway?
To wit, I'm going to blog now. It may or may not be interesting, and I didn't agonize over what to write even one little bit. Watch me:
I learned something yesterday: Berry-picking when you're angry is not a good idea. The berry bushes will win. I fell off a rock into a bed of thorns, severely damaged a favorite skirt, drove a thorn seriously into a finger, and tore up my ankle. This is what it looked like after I cleaned it up. Who knew the title of my first post about the black raspberries would be so prophetic?
If there is one thing I need, it's my body to be intact (and especially my fingers!) in order to do my job. So no matter how sweet the reward berries, it's not worth fighting the bushes in the wrong attire and in the wrong frame of mind. Nobody, however much they've pissed me off, is worth that. Plus, it didn't help one whit with the anger, which is still brewing mightily. That's an important lesson. I ought to write this down someplace so I'll remember it. Oh wait, I just did.
So, um....let's see. My graduate student tells me yesterday her fall schedule is still in flux and that she might be taking....gulp....Latin. Latin itself does not daunt me. I took three years of it in high school with a really kickass teacher, and I rather love it, (I don't think I'm a necrophiliac, but I sometimes do tend to love dead or useless things, apparently) so though I'm rusty as all hell at it, it will come easily for me. And as far as stenoing it, it will not be too bad at all, at least that's what I'm telling myself, since all the prefixes and suffixes and root words are nice and plain and wonderfully and beautifully Latin phonetic. Six million percent better than any other world language, as far as the stenoing goes. It will just require a shitload of prep. It's ironic as all hell that not more than two weeks ago I threw away my dog-eared and disintegrating Latin pocket dictionary. Sheesh. BUT she also tells me she may not need me for that course, so you see? That last paragraph was just a waste of white space and time. Sorry. I'm a pathological blogger. I write about anything, whether it's pointless or not.
And so will the organic chemistry I have to cover for another student, not to mention math of unspecified description for another (require a lot of prep, that is). Eek. The psychology classes (I hope) will be fairly straightforward. It's going to feel weird not to have neuroscience and molecular biology. Damn, I've gotten good at those. Now it's all new stuff, all humanities -- well, except for that pesky organic chem. The film/philosophy class I'm doing now is surprisingly hard to steno. You just never know with this stuff what's going to be hard or easy. This course is all Italian neorealism and international filmmakers and philosophers and history and politics of the world film industry. My brain is getting a cramp.
It looks like I will have at least four times the schedule I had last semester, as it stands now, for this fall. FOUR TIMES THE SCHEDULE, PEOPLE. FOUR.TIMES. FOUR.
Should I repeat that one more time? Four. Quattro. That, my folks, is the time when my blogging might start to flag, not when I can't think of anything to say. I may be just simply too worn out to be able to move my fingers, let alone formulate thoughts. However, if I may be so uncouth as to add, four times the income may just alleviate any tiredness issues I have. Oh, wait. It's more than four times the income, since I am also no longer paying an agency one-fifth of my income before I'm even out of the gate. See? I'm practicing on the math part already. Not that I'm planning on retiring anytime soon, and counting unhatched chickens of eggs all in one basket .... well, it's probably as good an idea as picking berries mad. Someone could end up hurt. Perhaps I should become a pro blogger. I'm available.
More on the blankets and squares for foster girls going to summer camp: The Ravelry group to join and to get more info is called Donate A Square.

The info about where to send the squares, sizes and yarns (sounds like she's totally NOT PICKY about yarns and sizes -- crochet or knitted) is all in there, and if you're not in Ravelry, well, it pretty much sounds like anything goes as long as it's a square, and the address is in yesterday's blog post.
Harvest Photo of the Day
Painful berries. There were a lot more than this, but I ate two big bowls full before I took the photo, strictly for medicinal purposes after I bunged-up my ankle and to assuage my pissedoffness. It was either that or alcohol, and I thought this was a healthier choice. They were so goooooooood.
Thank you for reading. I love ya.
On midnight, December 31, are you going to cease posting every single day? The world wants to know!