One year later...

Bub&Pie (and a very happy blogiversary to you, my dear) reminded me that I recently had my own with her own list of things to do in celebration. The major difference being, she's actually, you know, done the things on her list. Bloody hell, I'm even late for my own blogiversary. Have I really been doing this for a year? I should have a list too.

My list of goals:
1. Try to write one post a week. ahem. And we see how good I've been about THAT.
2. Spruce up this site with some cute graphic or design that actually inspires me to come and post. Anybody have a good blog designer to recommend? Who works cheap?
3. Try and actually use some of these blog features, like labels...let's try this out here...yeah, that works...kind of...not.
4. Write a list of thank you's to all the wonderful women who have inspired me to keep writing over the past year...like:

Deb, from i obsess, who gave me my first comment ever, and gave me a reason to keep going...

Pend, from Dribblingwit???? who I swear is somehow empathetically connected to my psyche. How is it that we have never met, yet I feel as if we already understand each other as if we had?

Bub & Pie, who makes me think, and makes me feel as if all my brain cells haven't dried up and blown away after all.

Blog Antagonist, who weekly rocks my world with her insights, and lets me know I am not alone.

KC, of Where's My Cape? who keeps coming back here, leaving encouragement and friendly words.

Sandra, the wondrous Sunshine Scribe, who shows me what courage means.

Hell, everyone I have on my blogroll (and some who aren't, as of yet) has inspired me in various and sundry ways to keep going, in my own haphazard way. So big warm fuzzy hugs to you all, where you're reading or not. I'm thankful. So there.

Guess it would be a good thing to stop at #4. Hey, look! I accomplished almost half of my goals! Hah! Definitely end of list. Adding label.

So...May 8th, 1 year ago, I sat staring at a white screen and eventually wrote this.

A year later, I have no new paintings to boast of. The oils lie quietly in their tubes, and my brushes collect dust.

I have, however, written more this year than I have since I was a child. I find it a battle, at times, to force these words out. I cringe and edit and cut and curse and finally give up and just let it go. Occasionally, I write something I can be proud of. Most times, I tell myself that just communicating is good enough, pride be damned. Sometimes, this frame of mind lets me write something particularly good. Other times, it is responsible for, well, posts like this.

And then, of course, the major work of the year. The Impling then:

and now.

At least, for this most important work, I've not been haphazard.