D'vorahDavida
Yetzirah

Yesterday was a rather momentous occasion, and had I not been browsing through some old diary entries, I would have missed it altogether.

As of yesterday, I have been writing here on Dear Diary for 7 years.

Pause for stunned silence from me.

(Ah I love the sound of stunned silence in the afternoon. Actually ANY time She Who Must Not Be Named is silent, is a good time. Let me bask in the glow of th....)

Can it ( ).

It's hard for me to get my mind around that length of time actually going by. It seems like time must be speeding along at a different pace than it used to. Why IS that do you think?

Anyway, my observation, after my parusal of the archives of this diary, led me to the conclusion that I used to write way more witty and interesting things than I do now. . . Seriously.

(Do you hear anyone argueing with your assertion?)

Well, no. But I'm feeling cranky about it. And ashamed. And like a wretched underachiever. Then I got to thinking about a few things.

One of course is that the world itself has changed. We are facing much more gloomy and complex problems than we were seven years ago. From time to time I have tried to grapple with some of these things, but come up so short of coherant that I scrap them before they ever reach this blog.

(Oh happy day!)

Really () you have to shut up now.

(Ah, that would be a negative Cupcake. I NEVER shut up.)

I think that's probably another big reason I don't write what is really on my mind so much of the time. The Inner Critic is screaming in my ear. Not to mention the complexity of taking on the political situation we find ourselves in today. It's a freaking minefield.

I also don't go into much detail about the mystical side of my nature that could really sound demented without a huge whack of background information that I have been gathering for the last 38 years or so.

It reminds me of a theme in The Dark Tower series by Stephen King that I am reading right now. There are times in the story where the characters need to tell their back story, but they are in the middle of running away from something, or TO something and they just don't have the time to give the story all the time it deserves, so they postpone it until the immediate danger is over.

And in some ways, that is part of my dilemma. I used to be pretty cavalier with your time. I would write volumnous entries. Now, I feel less likely to make you read some long winded angst ridden tome just to make myself feel better. But truth to tell, I AM long winded. I AM angst ridden. I HAVE written a tome if you take this diary as a body of work. And honestly, it DOES make me feel better to put things down here and try to sort them out.

It's the perennial problem with a public diary. You want to be honest, and put down what's really rummaging around in your brain, but not bore your readers. Pretty tall task when you think about it. Anyway, I am giving thought to the focus and purpose of this diary, just a time of reflection after seven years of scribbling in this new age medium.

Seven years. It still seems unreal.

Thanks for hanging in there and reading all this stuff. I can't call it all drivel, but there's a pretty good chunk of it that is just that. Hope you don't mind too much wading through and finding something that makes you smile, or think, or strike out on your own to follow up on something that we've talked about here.

So we are beginning year eight. Eight is a very important number. In Jewish philosophy, eight is the number of perfection. I wonder what this year of eight will bring?

[album 65561 GoofyHen2.JPG]

One can only hope

it will bring a cleaner house,

and fewer wild animals.

I'll settle for that.



(Me? I want fewer made up words and better spelling.)



Good luck with that.



[album 65561 Little Miss Sunshine.JPG]

I want a pony.

And a pony cart.

And a little house by the ocean.

And a bigger house by the forest.

And snow.

And red maple leaves.

And tall yellow wheat in the fields.

And lots and lots of cookies to share

with all my friends.



Amen sister. Amen.