Still smiling

Of course I am. Of course not all the time. But living here on the bright side means I probably am more often than not. I even manage to find a way to smile during hard times. I like to share my smiles, but have found myself increasingly unable to — all the energy having gone to adulting during a pandemic, recovering from the traumatic year+ we all just went through, dealing with things pushed to the wayside by said trauma, starting a new job (!), et al.

This post then is not to say I’m back, but instead just to say I’m still here, I’m still smiling, and I anticipate a return, sometime, I just don’t know when. I do know that I like timelines, so I’m going to check in with myself again in Autumn. So that’s when I’ll be back here then, too… unless something else comes up that I can’t see like happened last year then this year then…. who knows?

Adjusting. Recuperating. Just being.

I hope you’re well, and smiling. Until our smiles meet again…

Ms. Bean asks some questions

Ms. Ally Bean, the one with the spectacles, answered some bloggy questions posed by another blogger, and she indicated it’s a good way for her to emerge from a bloggy rut. As I have been experiencing something not so much a rut but bloggy silence as my brain thinks about other things that require way too much attention, I decided to answer her questions as something fun to post the the ol’ blog here.

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To exit, click left

What fresh hell is this? My main thought whilst sitting in a new Zoom situation that started predictably but escalated into something tortuous requiring a speedy introvert escape. Alternate thought: How to Scare Off Introverts, in Five Parts

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The simple joy of snail mail

I have always loved pretty papers and notecards (see: sampling above). I’ve eagerly scrawled my thoughts and dreams neatly to pen pals and sent holiday and birthday wishes to people in my world. Even before COVID, I’d started to get pulled away from that, lured by the fastidiousness and immediacy of technology in a world that seemed to be spinning out of control. I was becoming assimilated despite my protestations that I never would. I knew email wasn’t the same as paper, but time and busy and…

Enough of that nonsense.

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