A made-up holiday

So, The Husband and I don’t do Valentine’s Day. I hate greenhouse flowers and would rather get presents or candy for absolutely no reason on a random day. And I live in the forest so I don’t really notice those weird holidays when the banks are closed and everyone gets off work (except when the one store close to us sells out of beer – the horror!). I only do holidays when I’m required to either hang out with my family or blow shit up. So it pains me deeply, on principle, to tell you that I may be accidentally inventing my own personal ridiculous holiday. Maybe not “holiday.” “Repetitive celebration of an important landmark”? It’s a bit wordy. Whatever.

Point is, this week is my one-year Blogiversary! This might seem somewhat self-indulgent. I assure you, it is. However, in my little world where nothing much happens and when it does, I usually cringe and quiver over it, Blogiversary is a big deal. Because I never would’ve had the balls to do the writery thing in this way a couple of years ago, and I am shocked and amazed at how much I enjoy it. And at how much I enjoy knowing that you guys are reading it. Like, for example, last week? I more than doubled my standing record for number of hits in one day. That totally blows my mind. I still get the all-overs thinking about people reading my fiction, but the “my blog is published for the week so now people can read it” feeling? Amazeballs. (Also, do non-Southerners say “the all-overs”? It’s like the heebie jeebies and goosebumps had a baby. The creeps, if you will.)

Anyway, I just wanted to say thanks. Big, fat, juicy thanks. You guys are awesome and it makes me want to cry how much I appreciate you.

In other news, I just got back from my three week trip home for the holidays. Which is why I don’t have a real blog post for you this week. And why I’m posting this tidbit a day late. I am absolutely brain fried. I need a vacation from my vacation, basically. Two days on my own couch with local beer and a Star Trek marathon, and I’ll be good as new. I’ll be back next week with something deep and meaningful, I’m sure. Probably. Meanwhile, here’s a list of fun facts that I learned while I was away:

Hipster hunting in the airport is getting easier, and becoming a less fulfilling pastime.

Apparently I quite enjoy watching college football, now that I know the rules (I’d like to thank my obsessive sisters for that one – if I have to get cable over this I’m blaming them).

Old people and babies can smell fear.

Pabst Blue Ribbon won said ribbon for being the best new beer at the 1893 World’s Fair in Chicago. I think it might actually say so on the can, but who reads the can? I had to read a book to learn that.

Finding a spinach salad in Alabama is a task worthy of Sherlock fucking Holmes.

Always take the big suitcase and leave room in it when you’re going on a trip that may involve gifts of any kind.

Long-term parking at San Francisco International Airport costs eighteen dollars a day. Aren’t you glad you know that ahead of time? You’re welcome.

Fudge is not a food group.

The bum with a stroller full of goods for sale outside of City Lights Bookstore is surprisingly friendly.

Security will go through your backpack if there’s nothing in it but books. I don’t know what they look like on an x-ray machine, but it scared the shit out of them. Twice.

That’s all my kernels of knowledge for this week. Thanks again for reading this nonsense for a whole year, you guys. A whole year! I did a thing for a whole year! Hooray! Happy Blogiversary. It’s as much your made-up holiday as mine. Couldn’t have done it without you. Hugs. So many hugs.

3 thoughts on “A made-up holiday

  1. Babies can totally smell fear. It must be a wonderful fragrance, because they like to be near me.

  2. Obsessive? Well, just for one team I’d say but glad you know some of the rules now.

    1. Well, you guys gave me the crash course and then I immediately spent four days in intensive immersion training with The Husband’s family in Alabama (during which time Alabama kicked the crap out of Notre Dame in the championship game). That’ll make you learn ALL the rules with a quickness so you don’t say anything stupid in front of the grandfather. Oy.

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