I’ve been thinking all week about how I’m going to handle today’s not so ordinary blog.
The big one-o-o.
At least for wordpress.
Not that I don’t write other things,
or that a hundred blogs is all that special-
especially when some of the people I read have been blogging
and very well indeed,
what with the wp statistics,
like that in the first couple of months of blogging,
“my reader list would have filled the equivalent of a cable car in San Francisco-”
I think I have to consider that one again.
at least when I lived there,
the people who rode to the end of the line had to get out and help turn the car around.
And women in dresses weren’t allowed to ride on the outside of the car.
Unless they were nuns-
and in those fulminant habits they used to wear.
Which I always found strange,
since, if you have ever experienced the wind in S.F.
and seen the cornette wimples of the Sisters of Charity,
(think tv’s the flying nun)…
so this is blog number one hundred.
And since I’m one of those people who just like to look back on things…
Like on birthdays.
When I look at my year’s calendar, and try to figure out how I got through another year,
what with everything that happened.
Or how I got as old as I am.
When I was sure I had said often enough I am 39 and holding
that everyone surely must have caught on.
this is one hundred.
And I thought about doing a story about the basis of hundred.
the centum/satem division in languages.
But I read the page of a very good linguist, so…
A psychological piece-
Neurological stimulation at reaching a goal?
Again, several nice other blogs on the topic.
The bitterness of being 100?
Thanks Ben, I’m bitter you hogged it all.
Or Bun and his joy of life,
Tammy, Big John,
the other great people I have met here.
Then there are the fascinating things I have learned-
from ancient historians,
I mean historians of the ancient,
well, you know what I mean.
Or what the younger writers now believe and are writing on.
Nice to see how well you write,
and how much you care.
Then there are those whose rock-solid belief is an inspiration for me,
and helped me out when the problems at my job with a church was blocking
why I was at least trying to do what I am supposed to be doing.
And those who gave me inspiration.
The Helmsley blog,
the writers’ village,
live to write,
wicked cozy authors.
As for those few of you who have written hate, and caused problems,
you just are not invited to my big 100 party.
So movin’ right along…
While writing these one hundred,
I have learned I can write:
while getting large tree twigs twisted into my hair
for a weird version of something I was hired to sing,
while home after a car accident,
and when so overworked I felt my wheels were being run off.
And even when writing on a topic so bland I had to take it apart
and dig deep to find something off-the-wall enough to complete the job.
They usually ended up being my best work.
And even provoked some more than unusually bizarre comments.
Just spell the insults right, guys.
here’s to the big one hundred.
And those that read them.
And should you now, reading this,
decide that one hundred it enough,
there’s only one thing to say:
Mors certa, hora incerta:
I’m deadly certain the clock is wrong.
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