10 years.
Oh, friends. This is an absolutely crazy post to, well, post. On Monday? Lollygag Blog is 10 years old.
TEN!
For those of you with whom I’ve only chatted/covered rando events/foisted my children upon…I was not always the minivan-rollin’ 38 year-old on the other side of this screen, oh no. (And yep, I’m a newly minted 38 year-old! In case you missed the treetop announcements yesterday. I’m awfully bad at not proclaiming my birthday like a be-crowned preschooler.)
(It’s not a braggy mug if it’s a gift from your Mama.)
ANYWAY. No, things have changed a little since June of 2008. I was a newlywed at the time- like, literally married 2 weeks prior- and I spent my days taking care of other people’s children and my nights writing my own plays and essays and desperately pitching feel-good human interest stories to anyone with a printing press and/or a valid url. (Sometimes not even valid. It was a different time.)
Kids were not on the immediate horizon. A house was, but we weren’t picky about its quality (or lack thereof). I also enjoyed blogging about weirdo grocery store housewares, like picture frames with slightly uncomfortable phrasing.
This post, from October of 2008, actually includes references to both.
And then.
The following February, we found out we were having a kid. We announced it in April– and we got to meet her in October of 2009. (It worked out nicely, as she’s a super great person.)
Between those two events, we found our home. And it was awesome*! (*Missing windows, doors, baseboards, appliances, electricity, and a goodly portion of floor, but offering up a whole bunch of character*.)
(*Mold/rats/despair/fantastic taco joints.)
Okay, let’s skip ahead a little bit. This could get lengthy, otherwise. I wrote a book about having Nora while having the house (and feeling super inept at preparing for either), got hired as a regular contributor by Chicago Parent Magazine, I got a gig with Netflix, and started freelancing for pay like actual money for real like whoa. (Like at the Chicago Tribune. Except actually at the Chicago Tribune.)
We also met Susannah.
Two years later? Jasper.
I was offered my very first-ever print column. I mean, really.
But.
…Then we started losing people. Between Jasper’s birth and now, my family grieved the absence of eight loved ones. (Including my Dad.) For a few years, there, I felt like a version of Orson Scott Card’s Speaker for the Dead and, though I was honored to put the memory of these wonderful people into words, I’ll be really, really glad if I don’t get to do it again for awhile.
I did some high-profile reviews and some low-brow “comedic” pieces, and an unfortunately necessary number of political/human decency posts.
I got bitten by a mosquito. That dang mosquito made the next two years pretty stupid, health-wise.
In the meantime, I launched another business, launched Nora– and then Suzy– into kindergarten, and launched this home into Real Home-dom. (Real counters? A real back door that opens and closes and everything? 2009 P.J. and Keely wouldn’t recognize the joint.)
Amazingly enough…
…It’s all here. All of it. It’s like a digital scrapbook of the things we loved and hated and feared and were completely surprised by.
(Like the time we went to Vegas for 27 hours.)
And you know what? It feels pretty good.
So I’m gonna rest on the laurels that come with 10 years (hefty, hefty laurels, they are) and take this next season off from blogging. I’m excited for new projects on the horizon- here and otherwise- and I’m excited to feel that need to write it all down building and building inside of me until it may just burst.
I might even try paper again for a bit.
Nutso, right?
Seeya soon, friends. (You know where to find me. No, you really do. Don’t be a stranger.)
Love & tamales,
Keely
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