Today I'm not here.
Well, I am here, but only for long enough to tell you to go there, to Nichole's blog In These Small Moments, where I am her guest blogger of the day for her regular series of guest posts: "Small Moment Mondays."
Click on this button and go read me there:
And than stay and read deep into Nichole, because she is both a refreshing cup of cool water and a warming wonderful hot caramel mochaccino on a blustery day.
A wonderful writer, a supportive friend, a thoughtful and loving mother. A generous and gracious supporter of others writing. Someone who has experienced more loss, seen more sorrow in her life than anyone this lovely should.
All of her writing is terrific, but you might want to take her suggestions and get to know her through her favorite "Featured Posts" list, conveniently found in her left hand column.
Nichole is not someone anyone should ever torture. But I must admit, my dear readers, that is exactly what I have done this week.
I didn't set out to be mean, I started this journey with the best of intentions. I truly thought a post I was working on had Small Moment Mondays written all over it, so I inquired if she would ever consider me for a guest post slot. Nichole answered graciously (as she does everything) saying she'd already been planning to ask me if I would be her guest soon. Synchronicity! We're off to a great start!
A date was set for the following month, way off in the future. (If, like me, you also have ADD, right now you are hearing a voice in your head going: "Warning, Will Robinson, danger, danger!")
I was excited, I was all hot to guest, I was raring to go. And then?
And then it all froze up. I was in Siberia. Every post I wrote, including the one that had inspired my inquiry, turned into something else. Lovely posts for MY blog, but for Nichole? Bupkis.
I kept thinking I should write to her to let her know I was not there yet, not even close. But instead I kept starting more posts thinking *THIS* would be the one, only to watch them drive off the cliff once again into long rambling tangles messes full of "big ideas" or cranky, humorously complaining rants (otherwise known as my usual posting styles).
Then I got really busy. Distracted.
Thanksgiving. Chanukkah, blasted early this year. Dinners and parties. Presents to buy and wrap. Latkes to purchase. (You didn't think I was going to say "fry" did you? Maybe I have not thoroughly explained the nature of my un-domestic-goddessness at this point in my life.)
And then on Saturday, as I was heading off to our Synagogue's Chanukkah party, I received this DM on Twitter from Nichole, an ever so gentle and gracious check-in:
Oh, Holy Crap!
So I sent her a stream of DMs back - about 10 in a row - because seriously, people, 140 characters is not nearly enough space to back pedal and hem and haw and wheel and deal and promise but not promise and, um, I'dbeentryingandhadamillionunfinishedposts and wasstillworkinghardtofinishone and IthoughtI'dhaveitdone yesIwillbutmaybeIwon't and...
I am not copying and pasting them in here, way too embarrassing. Let's just say that they were a cut above "the dog ate my homework, I promise I'll bring it in tomorrow." It was all true, but really, did Nichole need my anxiety about finishing this piece splayed out for her (in 140 character mini-blasts, no less)?
Um, I don't think so.
She replied. Graciously. Let me know she understood how the holidays can be a stressful time and maybe I had too much on my plate, she would write something herself for this Monday. She would take my post whenever I was ready and re-schedule me for January.
There was not a hint of reproach in her "voice" but I knew I had disappointed her. And that just did not sit right by me. I had made a commitment, damn it.
Oh, Holy Crap, I have a post to write for Monday.
But unlike my own blog where I can, if need be, finish a post at 11:59 p.m. and have that count for the day, I have to send this to someone else. Nichole has to get it BEFORE Monday at 6 a.m. Significantly before.
So even though I said I wouldn't and couldn't, I stayed up til 4 a.m. Saturday, the night before our little Chanukkah party (because sleep is only for the sane).
Got it done.
Chucked everything else I had written (and some of those are turning out to be damn fine posts for my blog, you'll be seeing them soon) and wrote a fresh post that ended up being a lot about the process of figuring out how to write my small moments post.
But don't worry, me being me, there's death, autism and ADD in there. Also a little humor.
Nichole: I publicly apologize for any and all agony I caused you while waiting for my post. You are a very nice person, and no one should ever torture you. When, someday, I meet you in real life, I will buy you the beverage of your choice as a token of my gratitude for your kind patience.
So now I figure I should come with a warning label: If you ask me to write a guest post for you, you have to give me a deadline, or it will never get done. But then, you should expect me to torture you and make you think it might not get done, but then in the end I will pull through and get it done, because I just can't stand to disappoint my friends.
Um, think I'm going to get any more guest post offers?
Well, you never know, bloggers being a generally neurotic lot, I might. They just might understand.
And also? If they're smart? Have another post waiting in the wings just in case I truly crash and burn next time without pulling something useful from the wreckage.
So, now, if you haven't done it already, click on that button up at the top. Or this one, conveniently placed just below (because I'm all about convenience, don't you know):
See you back here tomorrow!
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