






The second gift came on the actual day I started my blog one year ago, March 3 from Things That Inspire
How did she know?

And then just when I thought I couldn't feel any luckier, another gift came my way from Emily at one of my favorite blogs, Material Girls. Again, how did they know it was my blog birthday?!

You know a year ago I couldn't arrested in the blogoshpere. Like everyone else I have my little story about how I got started. I stumbled upon a smart and sassy decor blog and fell in love with it, the writing, the images, the author. I went a little overboard with a school girl crush, and was shunned. I was crushed and felt quite stupid.


All I had to give was my writing. So I did that. I experimented with different voices. You guys suffered alot ha ha! I didn't know anything about blogging. But I was willing to make mistakes, to take the journey. One blog year feels like ten years worth of life experience. I didn't know how to scan so I actually took a photo of a photo from a magazine! I didn't know a widget from a gidget. I made the mistake of coveting the comment queens, the ones who got the most comments. I made alot of mistakes, but the intuitive nature of the blogger programs, and the generosity of other bloggers, made me learn and grow.

I have been noticing that the decor bloggers seem to be burning out around the two year mark, exhausted by the demands of blogging combined with the demands of their lives. This past month has had a rash of posts from many great bloggers ready to take a break, maybe even a permanent break from blogging. It's like everybody got their period at the same time.
I hope they feel differently sooner than later, because really blogging is one of the most wonderful things you can do. It keeps you connected to yourself, to the things you love, and to the rest of the world. In these hard times, it costs next to nothing to pursue it as a past time or as a business investment in yourself.

So I leave you a link to my very first post. Sometimes I go to other bloggers' sites and read their very first post. It's a very sweet and charming experience by and large.
In my first post you will hear the longing we all share to make our homes pretty, well designed, and ours.
As you can see in the photo, my space has changed totally in the last year. The wall color, the color of the credenza, the curtains behind it are gone, as is the little stool that I sold on eBay to get something else for the continuous enjoyable process of the revamp. And all of you helped me with this.

To date I've published 640 posts, some of them good, some of them so-so, all of them heartfelt for sure. Yes I do write and post alot. I'm a worker, and it's like breathing to me. It's usually not drudgery to work on my blog. I do it when I feel like it, and most of the time I feel like it. When I don't feel like it, I don't do it. Though I'm passionate, I don't have an addictive nature.

You know writers always say they write for themselves which is true enough. But I also write for you. And I thank you, all of you for reading, for taking me into the fold, for validating my experience and thus making it richer.
Like everyone else who is given a gift, more than they ever hoped to get, I have my list crumpled in my heart of many who reached out above and beyond to me:
Joni, Megan, Seleta, Renee, Vicki, Angelo, Sabina, Linda NOLA, Jessica, Mary Kay, Julia Hooked, Linda Lime, Linda Mom, Paul Roddy, Bayou Julie, Carey and Mo, Meg FF, Mitchell Junkie, Phil, Patricia von PVE, Brooke and Steve, Shawn, Sylvie, Linda Surroundings, Jackie Blue, Elaine, Suzanne Petunia, Jo, the hubs, Cholo, Eddie (& J.), Kara, Jack, Caroline, Mrs. Pelkey, my New York past, my adopted and beloved New Orleans, all my Faves and Raves (and thank you to all of you who have included me on your blog roll, a geeky little kindness that means so much to me), and of course if you don't see your name it's not because I don't hold you dear to my heart, but merely because I am having one of those crazy junior moments that come with more - more than I deserve.
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