Swans

And songs.

I have been writing this blog for several years. The initial impulse was to have someplace to go to write daily, to keep my writing mojo fresh and connecting every day, as a way of pushing myself to write my dissertation. Well, that worked variously well and sometimes not. I have written a lot of words on this blog. I've got most of them saved already, and will save the ones I haven't saved soon. I think I'll actually try to go through and print up every month's worth of posts, cause there's something about the formatting of the blog that is cool. And then, I think I'll get them bound, or something, and stick it all in a drawer. I'll be losing the comments, which have sometimes been really cool and the most wonderful part of this place.

And so you're probably reading and thinking, what could this mean? If there's anyone still reading. I get the feeling that, because of my really sporadic posting, most of my readers have left me. I know I have really stopped reading most blogs. I just don't have time. I pop in now and then to the two or three relatives that I have, and one or two other "internet buddies." But there's no way I'm going to ever have the time I once devoted to blogging again.

It's been a great outlet. I have really enjoyed writing the blog, and who knows, maybe I'll do another one sometime. I may go anonymous, because when I go out on the job market, it will probably be good to NOT have my name actually associated with the blog. Being up for hire at places that might be looking for good and bad reasons to not hire me will mean I have to be a little more incognito. Even though I never wrote anything specific about various scholarly things, the universities I worked for and go to, someone could read something and decide I was not being discreet enough.

So eventually, I will actually not be deleting this blog. I think I've removed most of the things that easily identify who I am with this blog. But I'll be quitting soon.

I've been thinking about this for days, working out while I'm falling asleep what it is I want to say as my last blog post. I rarely post. I really no longer have those moments where I think "I can't wait to blog about this." I never wanted to have a mommy blog, even though I have read some great mommy blogs and don't disparage them at all. I just don't understand why anyone else would really want to read about daily events. What is absolutely fascinating to me and mine is just bleah to others. I know this is true.

I've been amazed at how great the people who read my blog were/are. I really enjoyed the feeling of a community of writers that happened there for a while. I will (and already do) miss that. But I think I'm just done. I'm past the point where this feels like something that is worth the amount of time I even spend on it now. I know some of my family members and some of my friends keep up with what I'm doing in my life via this blog. But if you care what's up for me, you should just write me an email. I'll reply. But no more blog. It's sort of like when the phrase "bling" became something that was used by grandmas at the mall. That meant the phrase was no longer cool. So for me, blogging is pretty much blinged out.

So anyway. That's what this is, a swan song. It looks as I'm writing it like it's going to be a boring one, sort of like the Seinfeld last episode, where you just think they should have quit while they were ahead, and who wrote that last idea, and why would they make such a funny show end so poorly. And the X Files, it went on too long, too.... what was a creepy cool show turned into something I never, ever watched.

I don't want to be that blog.

So anyway. It turns out that swans are pretty mean. They're gorgeous, and swim so elegantly. But if you get too close, they're biters. And will attack you, gut you, for that packet of cookies you're holding. And they don't sing well, either. So you're glad it's the last one, when that swan starts to croon, because it aint pretty. And you start to look around for a duckling, cause it's gotta be cuter than this train wreck.

Swans?

Dive
Dive

Dive.....

Danger Girl

My daughter is just under 1 year old. Today, I bought them one of those little plastic toddler picnic tables, thinking they were maybe ready for it. The first thing she wants to do is climb right on top of the table, stand up and wave her hands in the air in victory. Sean was sitting nicely on the bench seat till the youngest ever Coyote Ugly climbed up and started doing her little dance. Then he began to think he ought to be up there, too.

It's back to the high chairs, then, where they can be strapped in with a 5 point harness. So the cute yellow & blue table has been retired till they are a little older & I can possibly reason with her to stay seated and save the gymnastics for another place, with padded walls & floor. When she does these things, I tell Andrew "that's YOUR daughter." I wasn't a daredevil but he definitely was. Sigh.

Anyone know the number for that insurance company with the duck? Do they cover babies? :)