Post every day for a month. That's all you have to do.
Oh sure. No problem.
The first time I heard about NaBloPoMo (National Blog Posting Month) I wasn't a blogger. The blogger who I was reading also mentioned NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month) and said she wouldn't do that because "(she) could easily write a novel, but it would take a year". I snorted unbecomingly. Anyone who could 'easily' write a novel, went my thinking, wouldn't be producing a very good novel.
So posting every day for a month? Sure. Easy.
We had tacos for supper. Good?
No? Okay. We went to a fabulous Halloween party on Friday night at our friends' place. My nine-year-old son begged to be taken home by my (equally dopey non-party-animal) husband at nine. Six-year-old Eve had to be dragged out under protest at eleven-thirty. Sigh. She trick-or-treated happily with a crowd of loud, unruly boys for a while, then said she was cold and wanted to go home. She kept saying she was cold, so she had a bath even though she had had one before going out. At one she woke up weeping inconsolably and when I asked her what was wrong she didn't know. I felt her and she was hot. She had a fever of 101, so I gave her some Motrin, kicked my husband out of bed and sat up reading beside her for a couple of hours before going to sleep with her curled up against my back. My thoughts were a nauseating whirlpool: it's probably nothing: really annoying if it's swine flu, since she just got vaccinated three days ago: what if it's not nothing?: it's usually nothing, until it's something: it's so not fair for the parents of the kids who have died from swine flu, because no one with kids is able to be properly respectful of their grief, we're all too busy trying to figure out how we keep the same thing from happening to our kids: they played Hannah Montana music at the funeral of the 10-year-old girl who died -- I love that her parents did that while being heart-hurtingly sad that they had to: it's probably nothing, right?
I'm still not sure what it is. When the Motrin was working today, she played a rollicking game of Go Fish with her brother on the couch. When it wears off, she's warm and her eyes get watery, which makes her think she must be sad, which makes her sad. And my husband, who's been home from China since Friday, is leaving for Japan tomorrow.
At least she didn't miss Halloween. And it's probably nothing. Right?
The first time I heard about NaBloPoMo (National Blog Posting Month) I wasn't a blogger. The blogger who I was reading also mentioned NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month) and said she wouldn't do that because "(she) could easily write a novel, but it would take a year". I snorted unbecomingly. Anyone who could 'easily' write a novel, went my thinking, wouldn't be producing a very good novel.
So posting every day for a month? Sure. Easy.
We had tacos for supper. Good?
No? Okay. We went to a fabulous Halloween party on Friday night at our friends' place. My nine-year-old son begged to be taken home by my (equally dopey non-party-animal) husband at nine. Six-year-old Eve had to be dragged out under protest at eleven-thirty. Sigh. She trick-or-treated happily with a crowd of loud, unruly boys for a while, then said she was cold and wanted to go home. She kept saying she was cold, so she had a bath even though she had had one before going out. At one she woke up weeping inconsolably and when I asked her what was wrong she didn't know. I felt her and she was hot. She had a fever of 101, so I gave her some Motrin, kicked my husband out of bed and sat up reading beside her for a couple of hours before going to sleep with her curled up against my back. My thoughts were a nauseating whirlpool: it's probably nothing: really annoying if it's swine flu, since she just got vaccinated three days ago: what if it's not nothing?: it's usually nothing, until it's something: it's so not fair for the parents of the kids who have died from swine flu, because no one with kids is able to be properly respectful of their grief, we're all too busy trying to figure out how we keep the same thing from happening to our kids: they played Hannah Montana music at the funeral of the 10-year-old girl who died -- I love that her parents did that while being heart-hurtingly sad that they had to: it's probably nothing, right?
I'm still not sure what it is. When the Motrin was working today, she played a rollicking game of Go Fish with her brother on the couch. When it wears off, she's warm and her eyes get watery, which makes her think she must be sad, which makes her sad. And my husband, who's been home from China since Friday, is leaving for Japan tomorrow.
At least she didn't miss Halloween. And it's probably nothing. Right?
Comments
Also, I heard today that the odds of dying of swine flu are 1 in 250,000. That's like 0.0004%. That means that even if it WERE something (which it clearly isn't) then there's pretty much no reason to worry anyway.
Take it easy, and I hope everyone's feeling better soon. Not that they need to, since of course you're all FINE.
I'll be there along with quite a few others. It would be great to meet you! If you'd like to go, drop a line to bloggersbreakfast@gmail.com and RSVP.
(I would have emailed you, but I can't find your email on your site. You can email me back if you'd like alweathe@nrcan.gc.ca)