This week I'm celebrating the three-month anniversary of my blog.
I began blogging just for a lark. I was building a new website in late September and the website template had a blog page. I thought, "Why not give blogging a try and see what happens?" I was curious whether I could sustain a blog. I mean, I certainly talk a lot (anyone who's met me will back me up on that character description), but posting a blog entry on a regular basis is another cup o' tea.
A few days after I began blogging, the Saint Paul Art Crawl descended upon my neighborhood. I rarely open my studio during the Art Crawl, but I usually put a painting or two outside my door. Halfway through the evening I was drinking a glass of wine and talking to my neighbors as the crowds ebbed and flowed around us. Suddenly I caught sight of a writer I'm acquainted with. I hadn't talked to him in years, but I see his writing here and there and am always impressed. He's the kind of writer who makes you think you should give up writing because there's no way you could ever write as well as he does.
The writer walked up and examined my painting. "You've been painting," he said.
"Yes," I said. "Painting is my life."
He turned and looked me in the eyes. "And you've been blogging."
I was filled with sudden panic. Someone was actually reading my blog? I'd been operating out of the belief that I was somehow invisible, since I hadn't told anyone I was writing a blog. "Yes," I said. "I've been blogging."
"You're a good writer," he said.
I slitted my eyes at him in suspicion. It was too good to be true that my first glowing blog review would be from a real writer who was a kickass blogger himself.
He suddenly looked troubled. "There's one thing wrong with your blog, though."
Here it comes, I thought. He'll point out some fatal flaw with my blog and I'll be so devastated, I'll never blog again.
"What happened to October 6?" he said.
"October 6?" I racked my brain, trying to remember October 6.
"October 6. The one about the pancakes," he said.
"Oh that," I said. "A couple of days after I posted it I went back and read it and it didn't make sense. So I tried to edit it and accidentally deleted it."
"It made sense," he said. "Put it back."
"I can't," I said. "I deleted it."
"You don't save copies of your blog posts in a separate file?" he said.
"No," I said. "It was only my third post. I hadn't even thought about backing stuff up."
"That's too bad," he said. "October 6 was the best one."
"If you liked it so much did you print out a hard copy of it and put it up on your office wall?" I said.
He looked puzzled. "No."
I felt horrible. I was in danger of losing my first and possibly only fan. "Don't worry. I'll recreate it," I said.
He looked very sad. "It won't be the same."
Not one to cry over spilled milk, I went ahead and recreated October 6. October 6 is now October 14. No, it's not the same...or maybe it is? I have no way of knowing since the original October 6 is lost forever.
So, gentle reader, is there an October 6 in your life? Some person, place or thing which you accidentally deleted because it didn't make sense...and then you found out it not only made sense...it was the best one?