Eighteen years ago, I started this weird new thing called a blog, and I've since seen blogging rise to become the de regur thing to have, to being passe, to being just about forgotten among all the other social media chatter. Daughter the elder is online, but there's very little chance that she'll be seeing this, or want to. Strangely enough, I'm not even likely to see her on Facebook or Twitter. I'm no longer hip to where the kids are at these days.
And, if you haven't noticed (and I doubt that most people will), I've gotten out of the habit of keeping it updated, and have thought more than once of closing it off. I even have a post ready to cap things off should I decide to put this on indefinite hiatus. But I'm posting now, as this is the eighteenth anniversary of this blog, and it was a big part of my life not so long ago, and more than once I've found it useful in remembering what I was doing at the time, and what big things had been happening in my life.
Now, the big thing is that I can see without the use of glasses. After an eighteen-month wait (too long), I finally underwent cataract surgery, and the end result has been miraculous. The surgery itself was unpleasant, but virtually painless, and after gradually losing my sight even with my glasses on, I was able to read the signs in the hospital as I left, without my glasses.
The surgeon fixed one eye on January 17 (the left) and the other on January 31, and adjusting was a bit of a challenge. The most shocking thing for me was suddenly seeing how bright everything was again, through my left eye. Looking through my right eye, I suddenly realized I'd been seeing everything in an increasingly yellow haze. It had been developing so slowly that I didn't notice that change, though I wonder if some days seemed drearier than normal because of it. Looking at the photographs that I took while I still had cataracts (see above) is something of a revelation, realizing how bright and colourful they actually were.
My one regret is that, with the lenses of my eyes fixed, I've lost my near-sighted superpower. I can see the horizon as clear as day, but the small text of this computer is blurry, and don't ask me to thread a needle again, ever. I will see my optometrist on Tuesday and get a proper prescription for readers, which my kids will appreciate. It freaks them out to have a father without glasses. And I admit, I kind of freak myself out when I see myself in the bathroom mirror.
The other big news is that I've settled into a full-time job as a Communications Coordinator for the Canadian Water Network. I'd say that was another reason why I haven't updated my blog, but that's not true since updates were few and far between before I started work. I'm enjoying the job, though, and it feels good to put my writing skills to good work, advancing knowledge and best practises in the water sector while it faces the uncertainties of changing demographics, new technologies and climate change. It has inspired me to write here a bit more, as you can't keep doing one form of writing without breaks or metaphorical stretches to shake the wrists out. A bit of free-writing on the blog could be good to limber up the mind.
The fiction writing is going well. I'm now 75,000 words into the rewrite of The Sun Runners, and I'm heading out on a writing retreat this weekend to push towards the finish line. Then I'll have two books in my little shared universe to potentially market. And it is a shared universe, as I was honoured to have Erin play in it, writing and publishing They Are Here for CBC Radio's Ideas in celebration of her Governor General's Literary Award win. Have a read (and listen!)!
And, yes, that was a big thing that happened in our lives during the time I was silent. I probably should have blogged about it, but I'm not forgetting it. I'm so proud of Erin that she won the GG for her novel Stand on the Sky, and she is doing great work on two more novel projects, that I'm looking forward to seeing go to market.
Anyway, that's all I have for now. I'll have more to say when I hit the road this weekend.