Eleven years. My Blonde Life is eleven today.
I used to do special things for my blog’s birthday. I ordered an elaborate bakery cake for its one-year celebration, orchestrated a park photo shoot for its four-year event, gathered my family for commemorative desserts most years, and always lit the candles.
I light the candles this year too but keep it simple and use place values instead of the actual number: one in the tens place, one in the ones. (My candle stash needs some help.)
I sense a collective heaviness in the nation and world, and my thoughts are all over the place. My dad died nineteen years ago today. A nephew was born eighteen years ago today. I see the eleven disciples, the eleven workers in the vineyard parable, the eleventh hour.
And now I think of what’s next for My Blonde Life. I often think of stopping, but the door is open, and I don’t believe I should shut it just yet. So, what’s beyond these already written 574 blog installments? I guess we'll see.
Happy 11th birthday, my blog baby! Enjoy your new year!
*Has My Blonde Life inspired or entertained you? If you wish to toss a tip into my writerly coffers, here's how you can do it: @Tamara-Schierkolk (Venmo), @TamaraSchierkolk (PayPal), or $TamaraSchierkolk (Cash App)
*Names in this blog have been changed to protect my family, neighbors, and friends in the neighborhood, and in a nod of appreciation to the beloved Swedish author Maj Lindman, I’ve renamed my three blondies Flicka, Ricka, and Dicka and their husbands, Snipp, Snapp, and Snurr.