This is my first post ...I'm copying it from CaringBridge because I am very nervous about this...After all, I am an old Luddite at heart, even if I was married to the ultimate Cyber-Rebbe.
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I will begin experimenting with My Own Blog. Netanel set it up, G-d bless him, then walked me through.
For the time being, I will continue writing here, and copy it there, until I figure out how it goes.
Oy, I am SO NOT a techie!!! You can find it at <eveilsen.com>
It has been a quiet and peaceful day of errands, laundry, catching up on things. Netanel, G-d bless him, walked me through an Introduction To My Own Blog. He has already loaded some beautiful photographs...
I really have no idea, yet, how to use it. That is, I think I can paste this into it; but I don't yet know where you would go to write responses, nor how I would find them.
Yikes---I am being dragged kicking and screaming into this decade of this century.
I still remember that feeling of yearning toward someone to whom I had posted a letter in the mail, during the time that it took for my letter to arrive and be read, and for the reply to be written and sent and arrive in turn to me. The sensation was physical-and-emotional all jumbled together, an exquisite, torturous tension of waiting. There was time to agonize over what had been written and what had been forgotten; time for yearning to develop and ripen. And the joy, then, of holding the awaited letter at last! The almost physical sense of relief when the envelope was torn open and the letter unfolded.
Perhaps the time it will take me to learn to navigate my very own Blog will serve some of that same function...?
Meanwhile, I am also strengthening myself for beginning the excavation of my own office: those piles of papers growing into a wilderness on my desk; the drawers containing I-know-not-what; the boxes that I have not opened since we moved into this house sixteen years ago; the wedding pictures, most of which never made it into frames or albums. Oy, then there are the photos from before we were married, which should perhaps go into a safe place...
I still miss Zalman. Every day. And---Life is pushing me along, like a mother dog nosing her reluctant pup forward to standing, then walking, then loping.