Instant Bluebird! Six Months of Bluebird Blvd. in Six Posts (With Anecdotes! With Love!)

1960s woman stands in front of postal delivery boxes, trying to figure out which one to use.
 

Where's the mailbox for Bluebird Blvd.?

Today I am celebrating the six month anniversary of Bluebird Blvd.

Thank you so much for being here today!

Would you like a cup of coffee? I just put on a fresh pot.

I thought to celebrate today’s mini-milestone, I’d offer you six quick links to six different touchpoint posts on Bluebird Blvd— with extra special personal anecdotes! Anecdotes that ran much longer than I originally intended! They’re more like megadotes!

Here’s your coffee! Feel free to skim my mega-anecdotes, my friend.

Ready? Steady! Go!
My first writing post was an essay about my early childhood— I was a dreamy child. Since many of my first readers were real life friends and colleagues, it cheered me greatly to have their support and their voice on my blog. Starting a blog was a terrifying prospect. I really had never written in this form before— my background is in print publications. Having so much support so quickly gave me hope that Bluebird Blvd. might be my new home.

Although I started playing around with my regular feature, The Marriage Interpreter, early on here at Bluebird Blvd., it wasn’t until The Marriage Interpreter (No. 3) that I felt as though I had hit my stride. In this dialogue, The Husband speaks to me in his sleep. I was so surprised that night. This never happens. I ran off to my notebook to take notes. He didn’t remember having said any of this at all.

In the first few months of Bluebird Blvd., I published a lot of drawings. I have been studying drawing off and on for most of my life, but studied art somewhat seriously in college. Vic improves his mind is a landmark for me in a number of ways— it’s my first full-scale pastel drawing; one of my first drawings to be shown to the public; and it was a point at which I started to feel really at home with drawing again. (Of course, I haven’t done any drawing in the last two months. You’ll be seeing more quite soon. Instead, I’ve been posting photography— an art form that is my first true love.)

Another regular feature I started quite early is A Bluebird Dictionary. I love to make up words. Coinage is a large part of my writing process. What I had never done, though, is write down these words and create dictionary-like entries for my coined language. Because This Word Should Be In The Dictionary— fooky-mooky was my first Bluebird Dictionary entry. I’ve had great reception on these posts, and I love to write them.

One of my biggest surprises, personally, has been the popularity of Bluebird Blvd.’s 5-Minute Dance Party— I have a dance party every day, and a secret dance party on Friday nights. (Shh! Tell everybody!) My plan this year is to have no single repeats of artists in this feature. I have a large catalogue of music that I listen to at home, and I am constantly seeking out new sounds and thrills. This unusual post is one of my favorites so far— 5-Minute Dance Party [Le Snob].

On January 3rd of this year, two months after starting Bluebird Blvd., my essay The Condiments of My Childhood was “Freshly Pressed” by WordPress. In just four days of “Freshly Pressed,” Bluebird Blvd. hosted over 7,000 visitors. Nearly 10,000 visitors stopped by to read this essay in a two week timeframe. I made a lot of new friends that week— friends that I have to this day. WordPress is wonderful— I am grateful for the friends I’ve made this first six months, and I look forward to making new friends as Bluebird Blvd. spreads her wings.

What I didn’t realize when I started Bluebird Blvd. six months ago was how much I would love doing everything involved in blogging.

Unlike writing for newspapers and magazines (which I adore), writing for Bluebird Blvd. is both immediate and intimate— I’m not merely a freelance writer typing away at home and talking by phone with editors (whom I adore)— I get to talk to you— my lovely friend, my fellow writer, my companion blogger, my stout-hearted reader— every day.

Because of you, I sit down to work in my office every day of the week knowing that I get to interact with some of the best people on the planet— literally and figuratively.

I am one lucky Bluebird. Thank you so much for everything.

Would you like me to refresh your cup of coffee now?

Beginnings



A young girl in Barbados looking at camera inside a grocery store 1960s



In the beginning, there is recognition—

there is the ignition of a spark, a light.


In the beginning,

your eyes open and the room

is more than a room, the walls

fall back and away—

smashed by hard water

on distant breakers.

And suddenly, you are awake.


In the beginning, there is one fine line,

crooked, serpentine, across the page

in ink.

(It is the word, and the word is divine—

because, suddenly, you’re awake.)


In the beginning,

there are beginnings

and we do not know

where they lead, how they cross

over the rocks and textures

of ordinary life—

flecked with sparks, moving slowly,

the way water curves when it’s tame.


In the beginning, you crash hard

to the floor when you risk

your first leap—


But, in the beginning,

you hang on the air

like a spark, like flecked light,

like a river’s crooked line—

cool and clean and serpentine

before you fall.

And suddenly you are awake.


*Hey! Today is the 6-Month Anniversary of Bluebird Blvd. Hooray!