Within three days, I received the following two e-mails….
January 17, 2011
Dear Ms. Cates:
Do you write any more? I cannot find a blog entry that has been posted within the past year. (Editor’s Note: Stop exaggerating. The last post was dated September something.)
I certainly expected some in-depth writing this month on just what winning a national championship means to a graduate. (Editor’s Note: The hype was exhausting, not to mention all the plugging of holes in the woodwork. Suddenly, Auburn fans are EVERYwhere. Where were these people during the Barfield years? Or during those occasional and unfortunate stretches of probation? Oh, the fair-weatheredness of it all can make a girl so territorial.)
Nothing. Not that it means nothing, but that there was nothing posted. What exactly are we paying you for? Do we EVEN pay you? (Editor’s Note: I’ve yet to see a paycheck from this thing.)
I know that life in the big city can certainly be hectic and can lead you astray, but what about those of us in Hicksville who so look forward to your insight on life in all walks of life – big city or small town. So this is your notice: You are missed.
So this sort of made my day. And a few days earlier, this one made me sit up a little straighter:
January 15, 2011
The result of my Bing search this morning on my subject line, Does Anyone Else Hate Texting?, pulled up your blog. All I can say is ROFL, which for me, a former English teacher, is about as far as I will go with the new lingo. Thanks so much for that. I am sharing it with my BFF’s (sorry!) who all text. I am the only holdout in our group.
I plan to return again and again to your site. You are indeed a breath of fresh air.
Thanks to both of these fine readers for lighting a fire under me; I miss writing here and am trying to work it into a schedule that is very different than the one I had only months ago. Yet I don’t want to generate the same ol’ blog rants that everyone else does–and that I am guilty of posting in the past. Without making this a totally self-serving site, I am working to come up with something a little more genuine and personal. And I don’t mean pictures of my kids. That gets old, too–even if they are more quick-witted and enjoyable than everyone else’s kids. (Somebody was bound to say it.)
Know that I am trying to climb back in this saddle, which has grown miserably cold and unfamiliar. I simply need to ensure it’s not strapped to a dead horse that has been beaten beyond recognition, so please bear with me.