I'm not usually a superstitious person. I don't avoid black cats, stress over broken mirrors or avoid cracks in the sidewalk. Posting is different.
I tried blogging once and lasted for two weeks. In retrospect, I could see that the subject matter was narrow and required a substantial amount of preparation. The blog might have been better suited to a weekly or monthly format. Daily posts consumed all of my time and became quite stressful. After two weeks, I made a decision to limit posts to twice a week. I felt stress flow away as I enjoyed a well deserved day away from the blogging world. And then another one. Days turned to weeks and then to months. I never posted again.
My decision to start Grandma's Goulash was quite impulsive, but I had learned something from experience. Grandma's blog is a big pot of goulash and there's just no telling what you'll find in it. Posts vary in subject matter and length. Some require substantial preparation, others are created in minutes. It's a much less stressful blogging format and I look forward to throwing something in the pot each day. But my previous experience lingers. If I fail to post, will all be lost? Will the goulash pot be abandoned? My logical mind says no, but the subconscious one panics. How did I let this happen?
Most of Monday was spent working on Convictions. I was pleased to have a final draft for one installment and a rough draft for two more. Perhaps my mind had confused that work with posting. Now I lay awake, bemoaning my error. I hear soft voices coming from the other side of the house. Calico and Muffin are awake? I focus my eyes on the clock. The red digital glare proclaims 8:35pm. I've taken a long nap, but it is still Monday. Like Scrooge on Christmas morning, I'm elated that I haven't missed the day. I head for my computer.
Sorry, Tiny Tim. I'm not sending a turkey. But at least there's something for the pot.