The helper monkeys at WordPress emailed me my yearly stats. Hooray! they tell me, you wrote 11 posts! Somehow this doesn’t quite fill me with pride. My most popular posts, in case I cared about those things, are birthday parties from when we lived in California. Thanks be to Pinterest for the boost in stats.
It actually doesn’t bother me that I have posted so little, or that I’ve got less than half a dozen readers. I never set out for attention, I just needed a new journal. I gained a couple of friends along the way and for that I’m grateful for the blog.
The historian in me isn’t even upset at my spare postings. I’m a revisionist historian at best and I’m happy to not have documented much of 2015. The highlights are good enough. I can look back and remember my job, the baby, Paul’s new job, and not remember the details of how hard everything was and how much I don’t love being pregnant and was drowning through the newborn phase.
So long, 2015, I hope to remember you as a big year, and a good one.