Liking the New Blog

So far, I’m really liking the new blog format. I’ve been able to customize it some to get rid of the stuff I didn’t really want, I’ve been able to add other things, and I’m considering playing around with the default skin to incorporate the blog into my regular site design. First, though, I should probably see if I can import all my old blog entries into this one. There’s not much future in continuing the exercise if I can’t do that.

I’ve also been working on websites for a couple of other people, and I’m pleased to say that I’m really happy with the way they are turning out.

I did just notice that my timestamp is an hour off. I must have specified the wrong time zone somewhere …

We’re supposed to get another half a foot or so of snow tomorrow. We just dug out of the one-two punch of what has become known as the “Holiday Storms of ’06.” I don’t mind the snow, personally. It’s nice to have it again, frankly. I grew up with lots of snow in Durango, and it brings a smile to my face to see piles of snow taller than I am in my front yard. This is Denver, though, and snow never hangs around here for long. By this time next week, I suspect that all of the snow from tomorrow’s storm will be gone, and much of the snow still on the ground from the Holiday Storms will be gone, as well.

As one of my resolutions from a few days ago, I pledged to write every day. Although I haven’t been writing in this blog every day, I have been keeping true to my self-assigned task. Just before New Year’s, I purchased a book at West Side’s Book Annex in Denver. The book is A Writer’s Book of Days, by Judy Reeves (1999, New World Library, Novato, CA.) It consists of many essays about writing and the lifestyle changes that come with a commitment to heed the muse, as well as writing prompts for each day of the year. I’ve been dutifully using the prompts for the first four days of the year, and I’m surprised to see what has come out. So far, I have an essay, a self-reflective journal entry, a prose poem, and a piece of humor written in the style of the old Zork text adventures. Where the hell did that come from?

At this point, none of the above are suitable for publication, and I probably won’t even develop most of what I write in these exercises. But it is nice to feel the juices flowing again; it’s been a while.

Well, I’m off to do my homework.

“A year after your death, …” (after Czeslaw Milosz)

A year after your death, I wrote a poem, but I hadn’t really grieved yet. Instead, I fled to Colorado because I finally had the freedom to do so.

Two years after your death, I curled into a ball on the couch and cried uncontrollably.

Three years after your death, I began to feel the guilt in earnest. Did I do the right thing?

Four years after your death, I was too busy worrying about Y2K to think about much of anything.

Five years after your death, you gave me a gift. It had to be you. Who else would stash a brand new wooden toilet seat with a hand-carved trout on it in an evergreen bush the same day my wooden toilet seat at home broke?

Six years after your death, I met your son and attended his wedding.

Seven years after your death, my marriage was in tatters, and I didn’t have enough energy to think about you. I’m sorry.

Eight years after your death, I thought a lot about our time at Brother Falls.

Nine years after your death, I had a new love and a new family, but I still found time to remember my inadequacy in regard to you.

Ten years after your death, our parents were finally ready to watch old home movies again.

Eleven years after your death, this writing prompt reminds me how much I still miss you.