July's Child

Sometimes I find this blog is silly to write in because I feel as if I am writing to myself. Now, in part, if I don't write new entries save a month apart (to the date today mind you), I can understand why as a follower, it would be a nusense to try to keep up with this... my interest would wane.... this reminds me of my feelings towards Madeline L'Engle and Mildred Taylor. Both authors I felt left their readers in the midst of good stories... cliff hangers if you will, season finale's except neither picked up the boat and brought us another novel. I waited and waited, checking their names on the bookshelves, but the shelf did not expand, the new books did not appear and so over time, I quit looking. My expectations and hopes for revisiting old friends in new ways, faded. And then I found out Madeline died, so I forgave her for never getting around to another book (despite the fact there was a LARGE gap in between her dying and my checking of the shelves....) anyhow, so, this blog. There is also the issue of comments. I rarely get comments. Oh sure, once in a blue moon someone writes one, but I sit there after a blog entry and watch that little parenthesees with a number tucked inside, watching, waiting, hoping it will change, wishing.... staring with anticipation, like watching the New Year's ball quivering at the top of the pole... but nothing. After about five or so checkins on this I give up. No comments. So if I'm not in the mood for writing to myself, then I let it sit, my blog, collect dust for a month. There has been a TON going on this past month. Much I could write of. What pertains to writing? Well, I finished my postcards, have them ordered and in my possession. I also spent a glorious evening at the Eric Carle, for a "Member Exclusive" gallery opening of Lisbeth Zwerger's work.... an event that was nice and fancy (if you wanted it to, which for me I did since my job requires us to where chill/hip clothes like jeans and a little skirt and heels every now and again is a treat.) And I chuckled over recognizing Jerry Pinkney hanging out and mingling... met a wonderfully friendly woman known to me as "Susanna the Egg Woman" in the gift shop who knew much about Trina (helps out with the Egg Auction for Jean (Trina's partner)'s school) and is from Storrs, and has so many books her floors are beginning to warp... (I actually loved talking with this woman because she was so natural at conversing. We were just instantly talking about life, causal things like not fitting her rolly suitcase through the halls because she has too many books, and then before you know it we're chatting about Trina, who she knew for ten years, and then on to who Trina painted with... and then she's bouncing back to the counter just as quickly as she bounced over to my area to begin with).
But all of that is just to say, I find it most humorous, that one of my persistent "readers" shoots me emails here and there to comment rather than the little memos... and whenever she does I feel inclined to stick my head back in the blog window and continue my work here. And so, I begin again, here in July, a month later, with the same full time job, the same trying to do too many things at once, and the same self... let the july blog adventures begin.