So I'm looking at the darn Google thingie (a few weeks ago, as it would happen), and it told me that I had written 999 blog posts.
"Holey Schmoley!", I said.
And then I got in the Happy Chair and I started fretting about number 1000.
It got bad enough that when Aunt Chrissy and I went to the TGI Fridays for dinner at 3:00 this afternoon (because that's how WE roll in the big city), I decided to get her loving, wise, sisterly advice.
(OK, so maybe that really wasn't the reason, but rather it was because she was paying for dinner and I felt really bad about it because I am the big sister and hapless matriarch of this little goat rodeo we call a family and it's my job to keep us in Arnold Palmers and cheeseburgers.)
But I digress.
So I says to Aunt Chrissy...."You know, I've been giving something a lot of thought. I feel like I created a character called the Spinster Stitcher and that I go on my blog and live in this world with all of these amazing and wonderful and perfect people (that would be all of yous, by the way)....(oh wait, except maybe not Betty and the damn 13-year old who keeps hacking me with p.o.r.n.)...but for the most part, Spinster Stitcher is just that...a character. Am I really being authentic? Am I really letting people know ME? Am I afraid that if I really shared my true self there would be a mass exodus and I would be left here, standing in a dark and deserted parking lot (I mean, come on, can you think of anything scarier?) (except maybe thunderstorms) (or cockroaches). So I'm thinking that for my 1000'ndth blog post I'm going to tell my T."
It was at this point that Aunt Chrissy snorted a little bit of her cheeseburger out, daintily dabbed at her mouth, and said "Have you been watching The Lady Chablis in Midnight In The Garden Of Good And Evil again?"
(The truth of the matter is that....why yes, yes I have.)
(The Lady Chablis is fabulous. Talk about a "character". She is a drag queen in Savannah, Georgia, and her T is that her real name is Frank.)
But I....you know.
"I just feel like I want to tell everybody everything there is to know about me and to make sure that I'm presenting myself to all of my faithful readers (insert more snorting of the cheeseburger here) and that maybe a few of them will appreciate my honesty and integrity and courage to bear it all and it will inspire them to be brave or take a chance or do that thing they want to do, but can't. I want to make a difference in the world, Aunt Chrissy, and I think my blog is the place for me to do that."
So I listened very carefully to everything Aunt Chrissy had to say (which, remarkably, sounded like blah blah blah blah blah) and I came home to write post number 1000.
I was on a roll, I tell ya. Fingers flying, confessions confessing, T's all over the damn place.
And then Stewey walked in.
"Mo-ther. What's all of this nonsense I hear about you committing acts of unspeakable horror on our blog?"
(You'll notice I let that one go, by the way. OUR blog?)
"Stewey, Mommie wants to live a real life. Mommie loves her faithful readers and wants them to know the real and authentic and true person....not some crazy lunatic with a talking dog and enough facial hair to grow a pashmina. I've carefully crafted 999 blog posts and I want number 1000 to be special, Stewey. I want the world to know how much their kindness, and friendship, and thoughtfulness, and love have meant to me, and I feel like number 1000 is the perfect place to do that."
(It was at this point that I realized that Little Lord Fauntleroy had not heard one single word I had said because he was too busy peering through his little spectacles at his iPad.)
"Mo-ther, you haven't written 999 blog posts. You've written 998 blog posts and one fairly incoherent draft."
(Cue the sound of a squeaky hamster wheel turning slowly as my tiny little brain pondered this.)
Happy 999, everybody.
If we make it to 1000 without losing any more of our minds....there will be cake. For everybody.