Happy Blogoversary To Me

Today is the one-year anniversary of this blog! Bust out the champagne!

Oh. It's 6 am. Well. Coffee will do. Slip a little something in it, if you must.

Here’s a Blooming Year One redux.

First post: Popcorn

Blog Inspiration: Late Bloomers

Hero's Challenge, Act I: Consult

Foreshadowing: Free the French Fries

Plot Twist: Plot Twist

Hero's Challenge, Act II: A Bloodcurdling Halloween Horror Story

Audience favorites:

The Lost Weekend

We’re Going to Potty Like It’s 2009

The Farm Share Blues

Torn Between Two Lovers

The Perspective Express

Roots and Flowers

Post That Best Describes My Glamorous Life: Baby You’re a Star

Post I Should Reread When I Get Bat-Shit Crazy: Onward Intrepid Writer

Blog words written: 31, 400

Visitors: 2533

Personal Take-Home: It’s been one heck of a year

Hero's Challenges, Act III: to come

With that, I’m out for ten days. Santa delivered (Santa Brings The Heat)—I board a plane for Hawaii tomorrow.

PS We’re dropping Chester off on the way. I'll take pictures.

PPS It might be time to change my bio blurb to the left. Book burning? What book burning?






Aloha!

Chester Finds a Home

I may not have landed my own column or a book deal from blogging yet (my fantasies) but I have accomplished something! I am extremely pleased to announce that thanks to my recent post (Welcome Home, Chester), Chester has found a new home.

Sometime this summer, our favorite dead caribou will be moving from my hallway to Bushwhackers Country Western Dance Hall and Saloon in Tualatin (www.bushwhackerssaloon.com).

When the offer came in, I suspected immediately that Chester would be thrilled with the activity and companionship he would find at this lively home to footstompin’ music, couples’ dance classes, Thursday ladies night, and buzzard wings—much more so than he has been here, where he is treated as, well, a wall flower.

Somewhat surprising to me was the fact that Captain Daddy wholeheartedly agreed.

The email I received from Bushwhackers’ owner said, “We await Chester’s arrival at your convenience. I hope he doesn't drool because he may be hanging over someone's table. We may have to have a private coming out party.”

Stay tuned for Chester’s big move. It may have to be recorded in pictures, especially the part where Captain Daddy and I take country western dance lessons.

Welcome Home, Chester

For me, one of the most personally significant impacts of the current economic situation is the return of Chester.

Chester was a happy caribou living in the northern reaches of Alaska until the mighty hunter Captain Daddy shot him dead seven years ago. Now he is merely a shadow of his former self—or, more specifically, a head and shoulders of his former self.

For the past three years, Chester hung proudly (if rather morbidly) at Joe’s Sporting Goods, where interior design was more appropriate and resident population more amenable to his presence than my home.

But Joe’s, alas, is bankrupt. Last week, Chester came home to roost. Literally.

Unfortunately, our 1970s-era home does not boast the lodge-like ceilings necessary to display such a magnificent specimen of dead mounted beast. Chester now hangs rather unceremoniously in a narrow stairwell, where the full range of his impact is to make us look like meat-eating white trash and occasionally scare the bejesus out of the chickens. Or maybe just me.

In any case, as loving daughters and wife to Captain Daddy, we will do our best to welcome Chester as one of our family forever, or at least until we find another willing sporting goods dealer to take him in. Actually, anyone will do. Takers?