They say as you get older, you pay less attention to milestones. Like birthdays or number of Twitter followers or anniversaries.
(Anniversaries, riiiiiight. Tell that to a married guy whose wife is all dressed up and meaningfully clearing her throat, waiting to be escorted to the annual dinner at Bistro L’Fancypants.
Not my wife, of course. Our anniversary is in June. I pay attention. Oh, attention I pay.)
Historically, I’ve paid attention to an awful lot of milestones. Not because I’m particularly sentimental, or numerologically inclined. I think I just have a mild case of OCD or something. And when you’re a teensy obsessive, everything’s a milestone. You can find one practically every day, if you think hard enough.
(Case in point: I proposed to my wife on our fifty-month dating anniversary.
Nobody knows when the hell their fifty-month dating anniversary is; it’s absurd. But it’s a milestone, and by god, I milked that thing for all it was worth. Namely, two hundred and five months of marriage. And counting.
This seems like it’s becoming a post about me being married, and various numbers associated with that fact that would bore the bejeesus out of anyone not, in fact, married to me.
But it’s not, I swear. Redirecting focus in 3… 2… 1…)
I was reminded of this “milestone” business recently when I visited Chris over at Rude Cactus, who’s gearing up (with what appears to be a ten-part series) for his tenth blogging anniversary. Ten years. That’s a lot. And a nice round, aesthetically pleasing number. Many congrats to Chris and the Cactus crew.
(Which, so far as I know, is just Chris. But when something’s gone on for a full decade, you like to think there’s some sort of “crew” behind it, who can take pride in their long-lasting accomplishments.
Unless it’s that Big Brother series. Then you just assume its the work of Satan or Hitler or something.)
Anyway, it got me thinking about milestones, and I realized I haven’t written about any here for a while. Oh, there was one ‘State of the Blog’ post back in April, but mostly I was noting milestones upcoming. Nothing had actually happened yet. They were “on the horizon”, to quote my selfie from another monthie.
“Also, that OCD problem I had seems to have cured itself.”
I did recall — at some point in the hazy distant past — commemorating ‘bloggiversaries’ for my own site, though I’ve fallen sorely out of habit. The last one I could find, in fact, was my three-year anniversary congratulatory self-backslap (complete with decorative coffee mug hawking; I really wish I was making this up).
It’s funny to look back, all this time later, at that three-year star on the calendar. A lot of things have changed since then; so much time has passed. Exactly how much time? Well, I wondered that, too — so I looked it up. Since that three-year anniversary post, it’s been… seven years. Plus a month. And two days. So, um, apparently, my site’s ten years old. Plus a little.
Also, that OCD problem I had seems to have cured itself. Because I sure as hell didn’t notice.
Of course, I haven’t written solidly for the entire ten years. There was a lot of activity in the first couple of years. Like, a lot. Sane people might say too much. I dropped a thousand words or more in most posts, and I rarely missed a day.
(Also, I posted twice a day a lot, to make up for it somehow. Make it up to whom, I have no idea. Ask the OCD.)
I took a few months off in 2007, and then a lot more months off between the summer of 2009 (just before the six-year anniversary) and early 2011. But in fairness — who hasn’t taken a hiatus in this business for one reason or another? Tina Rowley was sick all winter. For a while there, we all wondered whether Allie had glitched and gone off to literally CLEAN ALL THE THINGS!!! Julia wandered off for sixteen months, then came back, and then wandered off again. Temporarily.
(Yes, it’s been six years. But she’ll be back. I SAID, SHE’LL BE BACK, DAMN YOU!)
And don’t even get me started on Monkey. Oh, Monkey. Sigh.
I’ve pretty well forgotten where this is going. Which seems appropriate, given where it started — namely, that I forgot my site turned ten last month. If it were a child, it would hate me forever and probably call me by my first name and tell people I was an uncle.
(Yet another reason why I don’t have children. Even pets are better than that. When I forgot my dog’s tenth birthday, she just waited until I went to bed and then peed all over the couch. So much simpler. And I never forgot her birthday again.
She still peed on the couch, of course. She just stopped doing it with intent.)
Anyway, we’re ten years — and a little — into this thing. Maybe by the time we hit twenty, I’ll have the damned thing figured out. And I’ll remember the anniversary.
I might have to hire a “crew” to remind me. But I’ll remember.
Probably.Permalink | No Comments