caramcduna.blogspot.com

Recently I've become slightly obsessed with the idea of becoming more technologically savvy. There are some things that have prompted this desire. For instance, J has had to show me how to use the iPod shuffle more than once even though there are only three settings. Most of my technological aspirations, however, relate to this very website. While my ultimate goal is to have my own dot com or org, free from ties to a blogging site, I thought I'd try, first, to change my URL because, let's face it, I'm not 26 anymore. I brought this up to J and he said it didn't matter - that the twentysixyears.blogspot.com address was funny. But I want accuracy. I want recognition.

What I wanted was noagenda.blogspot.com but alas, when I tried to republish this site to that address was told it was not available. This annoyed me to no end because if you go to that proposed site address there's nothing there. Try it. You'll see.

Instead of moving onwards in my quest, I moped around for a bit and decided to see who else had set out into the blogging community as I had, proudly stating their age as though it would never change. I found this and way more intriguing, this. Good God.

For now I'll stick with my web address and should it ever change I'll let you know. Because when I'm say, 30 or so, twenty six years just isn't going to cut it anymore. You'll say, "Who are you trying to fool?" and I'll have to explain over and over again that I just don't have the "skills. I lack the skills, people."

Four months

Last night my father called to tell me a) that I "sounded tired," which he does every time he talks to me and which usually tempts me to remind him that I don't have time to take a nap every day. Like some people. Who, I've been told have always done that and who also, I recall, used to walk around their offices in their stocking feet and then leave at about 4 p.m. - at the latest. He also told me b) that my wedding planner, Michelle, had been nominated for some kind of wedding planning award for the category "Best Wedding in the Worst Circumstances." You may recall the streams and rivers that materialized in the front yard, or the flattened shrubbery left by the massive busses. The busses that people puked in. Or, you may not. Because of the mojitos. Today is the four-month anniversary of that blessed event - the rain, the dancing, the speeches that weren't scheduled til midnight, for better or for worse.

Happy anniversary, J. Despite having to give up the melodic cadence of my Italian-American last name, I love being Mrs. McDuna.