A decade ago, when the term “blogging” was “another new one,” it initially struck me as just another outlet for those with a refined sense of self-importance, or the “dear diary” types, or folks who simply don’t get out often (which lead some to talk to themselves… in the font of their choice, often with images).
Through the years in the more recent past, I’ve come to truly appreciate the presence, at my Googled command, of so many talented, educated, highly-experienced, witty, and quite “selfless” folks I so ignorantly and dismissively categorized above who obviously enjoy putting themselves “out there” to share with any willing takers their thoughts, ideas, emotions and intellect. I’ve “taken” full advantage. No question goes unanswered, no pipe dream uninspired, no meanings undefined, no opinions unstated.
There are so many visually-appealing, thoughtfully-designed and professionally-presented blogs out there that I certainly feel pretty insecure and a bit silly about starting one of my own. But the inspiration to go for it anyway is fueled by the common thread that seems to bind all those whose blogs I’ve stumbled upon accidentally, perused briefly or whiled away unproductive hours on: PASSION. We’re all passionate about something, and I think it’s pretty awesome when self-described socially reclusive types such as myself are able to experience the kinship of others with like passions from the comfort of a swiveling chair in a house we don’t care to leave very often.
As per one of the definitions of a blog that I found, “a personal diary, a daily pulpit, a collaborative space, a political soapbox, a breaking-news outlet, a collection of links, your own private thoughts, memos to the world,” I know this blog won’t be a daily undertaking, and obviously not very private (but by default in that I may well be the only one here). If you happened upon my blog by sheer circumstance, I hope you’ll find something worthy of your time, however fleeting it may be.
In March of 2008, my husband Greg and I purchased a 10-acre property situated on a wooded lot on a dead-end avenue squarely centered between the Atlantic City Racetrack and Atlantic City Airport. The cedar-sided bungalow built in 1971 sits at the end of a rather long lane (driveway, I suppose) and was complemented by a big old barn, a multi-room stable, a henhouse, a lean-to shelter, a horse stable, a gazebo and three koi ponds… all in a sinful state of neglect and disrepair with a bit of vandalism and dumping to boot. I’m “passionate” about its piecemeal restoration and the quality of life doing so has afforded us.