Four years ago today, an unemployed, bored, and creatively-unfulfilled girl started a blog as a means of shopping-aversion therapy. “Maybe,” she thought, “if I write about all the things I like, want, or need to buy but can’t afford, I’ll exhaust my desire for them. Now, what on earth would I call such a blog?”
(It’s me. I’m talking about myself in the third person.)
Four years ago, that girl was barely eight months into a relationship with the man who would later become her husband, and she didn’t know then that she would get to document their engagement or wedding for a community of friends (both online and off). Four years ago, that struggling girl could never have known she’d one day move to Paris to write a novel; if you’d told her there was that sort of the brilliant light at the end of the tunnel, she would have scoffed, adjusted her sweatpants, and started another marathon of America’s Next Top Model, a show she, in unemployed desperation, had auditioned for just a year prior. An experience that, while amazingly rich in lols, did nothing for her bank account or resume.
Four years ago, that girl moved in with her boyfriend over the summer and together
they got way in over their heads and adopted a wily, lovable, lunatic-wrapped-in-fur named Fitz. Proving that nothing really changes and also that his Prozac does nothing for him, this morning he whined at a parked car because he didn’t like the roof rack. He is, however, my most trusted editorial sounding board. “Fitz,” I’ll often say to him because who doesn’t anthropomorphize their pets, “what should Mommy blog about today?” To which he’ll roll right over and distract me with his little belly and imploring eyes.
In four years, my tastes in interiors and music haven’t changed, and neither has my Francophilia, but I’ve made an effort to expand my horizons. Four years ago I never would have dreamed I’d honeymoon in Santorini and like it (sun! not-Paris!), but I did. Correction: I loved it. (I’m expecting nothing less from Italy in a few months.)
In four years of blogging here I’ve learned a few things along the way: I’m comfortable coding in CSS now, and I’m comfortable not blogging every single day. I’ve hit the sweet spot with two or three posts per week, but it took a while to get over the initial self-imposed stress and guilt on the days when I didn’t post something. I hope you kiddos don’t mind too much; I’d rather post when I truly have something to say and feel inspired to share, rather than post for posting’s sake.
I don’t know if I have another four years of blogging in me, to be honest. In four years I’ll be 32 (WEEPING. WEEPING OPENLY.) and might even have a kiddo of my own then and lack the sufficient time or energy to craft such groundbreaking posts as Gary Oldman in Paris. Who knows. But this will always be my favorite side-project. I’ve met so many incredible, and incredibly supportive, people in the last four years, including my first ever blog friend, Annie, whose birthday is today! Happy birthday, darling! Yes, in a delightfully serendipitous twist, my first blog friend and my blog share a birthday. Annie and I have hung out in New York and Paris together, something that never would have happened if not for this blog.
I’m wildly grateful for your friendship and comments here every day, you guys. Thank you for making this blog what it is. And now, if you’ll excuse me, I must go indulge myself in some macarons and 80s boyband music to celebrate.