She wears her heart on her sleeve.

Of course Koi don’t have four eyes, silly. Those are olfactory organs called snares, or nostrils.

Wearing heart on sleeve. Yeah, that’s me.

Since I started keeping this on-line journal, I’ve posted about my reasons for blogging here and here. I need to evaluate my blogging addiction occasionally and now I have good reason to contemplate again. Read this blog once and you’ll see it’s all out there folks, slightly guarded in details and subjects, but anyone can read one of my posts and know who I am.

Me, a young girl, never a stand-out, was not the last poor kid picked for sides in a ball game but never the first, either. I sat on the sidelines and watched my elementary school friends roller skate and receive academic and athletic honors in high school because I never had good enough balance for skating and only had a B-average. I could have done a lot better. And I cheered for my friends and shared their triumphs, yet, I always, sometimes sadly, yearned to join them and to feel that natural high and a few moments of fame, too. Always ordinary Mary, seemingly content with mediocrity but possessed a well hidden competitive spirit. I wanted to be an athlete but never had the physical size or confidence to play organized sports so I exercised my skill at basketball with the neighborhood boys in the allies of Baltimore City, and I have the scars to prove it. Loved badminton, too. You can laugh all you want (Gina), but Badminton is a sport.

During Gina’s twelve years of competitive swimming I applauded her and was constantly amazed at her strength. No one can make an athlete swim miles every day. She made it happen. The sport is grueling and caused her tears, disappointment and weariness, but I'm so thankful she heard the sweet, sweet sound of hundreds of people cheering for her and that she felt the thrill of receiving the gold, silver, and bronzes at championship meets from elementary school through college. These joys in life are what we wish for our kids, especially if we never had them. My husband has been recognized nationally for excellence in electrical construction. So, I’ve been their cheerleader, never knowing how it feels to own a plaque, ribbon, or medal and never feeling anything close to that until recently. This is not a pity party. I'm reasoning with myself here.

Two weeks ago I joined the Nature Blog Network. Just curious, I was. I saw many blogs I know well, respect and admire, and joined the NBN but never, in my wildest dreams, expected to rise in the ranks from the bottom of the barrel. My ranking skyrocketed in a week to #27 and I felt giddy, shocked and amazed... People like my blog? They really like it? I’m nothing special – no great talents here in comparison to these nature-loving greats. I had 10th grade biology and don’t remember squat about it. Last week I became feverishly addicted to the rankings to the point I wanted to post more often and agonized over subject matter that would be more suitable for a “nature blog”. What’s worse, I started to feel competitive in a pool out of my league and I didn’t like it. How pathetic. Oooo…ugly, Mare.

A few days later, a friend and mentor, Julie Zickefoose, produced the most honest, overwhelmingly heartfelt post on human nature and her own thoughts on this same subject. Thanks to her, I felt alright. If you haven’t met Julie, please do because she is, hands down, the best out there and loves Boston Terriers, too.

So here I sit, still wondering what I’ll post about next, before I finish this post.

Wait, Mary. Back up and think a little harder about what you enjoy about blogging most of all and what you have to offer.

I love to make people laugh or cry. I love to take photographs with my point and shoot. I love writing about nonsense and my dogs. I love reading comments I receive. I love reading other blogs and forming relationships with people - not necessarily loving what they know. I love to photograph nature but, for the most part, I don’t have a freaking idea of what I’m seeing in front of me. A bug is a bug. I love the excitement I feel when I have a terrific post all ready to go and click “publish”.

So that’s what it’s all about, man. It’s been a wild ride for a little while and now it’s over. I did my best and had my fame. Now I'm back to doing things to float my boat, like

Sneaking outside at midnight in my nightgown and discovering pond sex.