2 years of talking about myself.

How did I miss my two-year blogging anniversary? Who knew that talking about yourself could be so fun. Oh wait. Everyone knows that… because isn’t that the first lesson in Making Friends 101? Always ask questions about them.

However, in my case (yes back to me), I normally ask questions of other people just so that I don’t have to talk. I’m not a fan of talking, you know, because of the whole listening part on their end. Haven’t we discussed this before? That’s why I’m a gesticulator. So that people focus on my flailing hands rather than my awkwardly worded answers.

But I do enjoy a good romp in the hay with ole Blogger. We’ve stuck it out these past two years, now I just need to dedicate more time to it.

Here are a sampling of blog posts that still either touch me or make me laugh out loud. Who said that the memory of something is more enjoyable than the actual doing of it. Well, they just might be right.

You can click on the photo and it will take you to the blog post.

Date night with a Joker Hat

Getting called out by my favorite band whilst dancing next to a Scottish Laird from 1745.

Trying to convince you that I really am not on drugs.

The whole Little Corn Island saga continues to make me laugh — if only for the plane/boat ride over and finding the Soul of the World with a couple hippies.

And just little moments with R, trying to make it through the sometimes mundane reality of it all. Life.

8 comments on “2 years of talking about myself.

  1. Congratulations! Not many survive in blogdom as long as you have. I certainly tried and failed (many times). Hope you keep it up, it’s good stuff!

  2. Unc says:

    Congrats on the anniversary, always look forward to the next posting ….always entertaining (R …RUN!).
    Love ya!

  3. little teacher says:

    Joker Hat! I love him. (You should have taken him to Kentucky. I am sure the dance floor is part of his domain.) Congratulations!

  4. B. W. says:

    congrats, always looking forward to your next entry. keep it up girl.

    dad

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