Last night, during my nightly conversation with myself, I realized it was about time for my annual "I forgot it was my blogiversary" post. And then I realized that yesterday WAS the seven year mark. So technically I DID NOT FORGET MY BLOGIVERSARY! Yay me.
My anniversary, however, is another matter. I don't know if I've mentioned, but my husband and I eloped. Justice of the peace; no parents. Our two attendants were dragged out of the apartment swimming pool, wearing cut off jeans.
So needless to say the date was never fixed in our memory the way it is for people who have proper weddings. Every year, one of us will get that "uh oh" look sometime in late May and remind the other: "Guess what we forgot? Again."
Seven years, bringing you the best blog I can, day in, day out. (A blog year is like dog years, a 7:1 ratio, which means I only have to post once a week. So glad I finally did the maths!) Just imagine if I'd been writing a novel all that time...oh wait. I did that. My first novel took seven years to write. (And that doesn't count all the manuscripts that were begun and abandoned during that time.)
At least I haven't abandoned my blog. Or my husband, for that matter.
