This is Post #500

It's a rear-window decal. When the windshield wiper is on, the dog
seems to wag its tail. Humans made this. Humans thought this was a good idea.

When I noted, with some sense of accomplishment, that I made my 100th post, it was July 12, 2014. I was two years away from a hip replacement that I was then unaware I would need. I had not gone to Lima or Paris as part of the global negotiations on climate change. Bruce's mom was brightly alive and Kevan, my brother-in-law, was three years away from a stroke that tried to, but didn't, slow him down.

And I was still working.

My project of serial, broadcast, autobiography started in 2004, when our little Jack Russel terrier Molly was no longer a young dog, but had another seven years in her. Back then I sent out weekly emails with a picture attached, almost always a photo of the dog. I'd miss a week or two here and there, but once I switched to blogging, I posted regularly. Every. Single. Saturday.

I'd expand production by travel blogging as a service both to my readers and myself. I wanted to remember.

I wrote about my hip surgery and the adventures of convalescence. Invisible others from around the world still read those posts.

And I took a stab at fiction, because, why not?

This blog has never had a future plan, no ultimate goal, no end date. I do put thought into it every week. Sometimes I know what I'm going to write. Sometimes I even do research. Sometimes, like this time, I just come to the blank Blogger screen and see what happens. 

That my weekly conjuring act has grown a long tail can't be surprising, and yet it does surprise me. I'm surprised I've created something so public in the course of doing something which in its essence is so private.

I am grateful to all of my readers. This blog is my long-winded, one-sided conversation with all of you. It says, Who-like, that I am here. 

Thanks for reading!

Have a great week!

Karen