One Hundred + One

While trying, and failing to do some new things on oldgreymare, I noticed the numbers in the blog archive and with quick addition realized that I had missed an important passage in blog land. My 100th entry! It was about the stack of quilts piled up in the garage. Now, if I had known it was my 100th, I would have tried to expound on the meaning of life, ahem, yeah, right! Hopefully, I would have at least written something a little more memorable, instead of "here are some quilts in the garage, come and get 'em".

In the beginning, I never imagined that I would make it to 100. I have tried in vain for decades to keep a journal. Nearly every year, picking out a beautiful, richly textured, aromatically bovine, leather bound tome, I would write awkward paragraphs that sounded inane and frivolous, and within days abandon any further attempt, as I embarrassed myself with ramblings about my feelings and thoughts. I would have been more successful keeping a food diary and goodness knows that might at least have been helpful.

Perhaps it is easier here, because I have illegible handwriting, as did my Mother, and I was always self conscious about it. So much so, that I would try too hard to make it look pretty and in the end it would still all bunch together and slant up and down hill until even I couldn't read it days later. Oddly enough, I was one of the few who could decipher Mom's, and I received straight A's in elementary school, instructed in the Peterman Principle of writing. Remember the ovals? Eight times around one on top of the other, always ending at the top? You are too young to remember that? well, blpfft! to you then.

Here, all the letters are pretty and I can change them on a whim to something even prettier anytime I like. So, here is my first journal of sorts, not private, not sole searching and barely entertaining at times, but it is ongoing and it is legible. Not leather bound, but it has pictures as a bonus, and ultimately the important milestone is that I followed through after all the previous failed attempts. Even if I did miss the 100th, 101 is good, for dalmatians, and for me.