Today call me home, as in “There’s no place like.” Except Judy Garland was sixteen when she filmed The Wizard of Oz. And at 43, I remain completely creeped out by flying monkeys so I’m in awe that a young Judy could utter crap like “We’re not in Kansas anymore” probably multiple times from various camera angles with only the tiniest tremble of her lip. Which I know is off topic, but still.
It’s good to be back from over the rainbow. Or down from those chimney tops. With or without a pair of ruby slippers. (For the record, I’m without since I left mine somewhere. Naturally.)
And although I fear hot-air balloons even more than flying monkeys, my life’s motto might as well be “Pay no attention to that man behind the curtain.” Except instead of “man” we could substitute any number of conflicts I tend to ignore while en route to the Emerald City.
Because Dorothy’s hair sure looked pretty after those Oz-zy stylists worked her over. And those luscious curls (in place of girlish braids) must have been decent compensation for the disillusionment she felt upon discovering the Wizard was an aged bald man and the Tin Man already felt love and the Scarecrow came with smarts and the Lion…well, the lion wiped his nose with his own tail so let’s leave him out of this, shall we?
Where was I?
Ah yes. Home. At By Any Other Name. Which may shock those of you who witnessed the spread of my guest-posting net across the interwebs last year. In fact, in 2011, I “traveled” approximately nineteen times. And since I’ve written only 82 posts in my blogging career (Hooray, underachievement!) I’ve had roughly 23 percent of my words published elsewhere.
Yes. I consulted a calculator. Because this trembly-lipped sixteen-year-old paid no attention to that math teacher behind the desk.
So now, I’m Glinda the Good Witch floating around Blogtown in a magic bubble I pop wherever I’m invited. Except Glinda probably took a lot of showers and owned at least one pink ballgown and the same cannot be said for me. Sartorially, I trend toward Wicked Witch for sure. And also in my aversion to water. Maybe.
Anyway. My desire to help other bloggers and my inability to say “no” (except twice and you know who you are and I’m sorry it was unavoidable because of timing and pleasedonthateme) has rendered me the girl most likely to be written about on the inside of a bathroom stall. Finally! I mean, “Oh, no! A loose reputation!”
So today I am
A. Thanking my readers who traveled where bluebirds fly alongside me (especially in light of my irregular bathing).
B. Advising those of you who are new here about where else you might find my posts.
C. Expressing gratitude to my hosts. You shared your brains, your heart, your courage. And I loved your homes. For real.
For me, the best part about being a guest (besides free snacks) is trying on different writing styles (and maybe your bathrobes). I got to step outside my “Today call me____” theme once or twice. Or nineteen times. Or 23 percent. Or shutupIhatemath.
So. Here are the links to my guest posts in order of their appearance:
I’m humbled by this list. Truly. But as I enjoyed everyone’s 2011 recaps, I realized some of my best work lives elsewhere. So please consider visiting the posts you may have missed while checking out these most-spectacular blogs.
And to my beautiful hosts: I’m honored you let me burst my bubble at your place. You can borrow my ruby slippers any time. Just as soon as I can find them. And as long as you agree to pay no attention to that woman behind the curtain.
At least until she’s finished up her shower.