I don't make a living blogging and I have very little patience for those who cry "foul" over perceived infractions of blogetiquette.
(There are some things that are way uncool, but at my age I can't sweat the little stuff. Mainly because sweating leads to hot flashes which leads to me peeling off my shirt. You want 'uncool'? There you have it.)
But I DO like to check my Google Analytics to see who is visiting Brandywine Cottage.
It looks like the folks who visit the Brandywine blog are the same kind of folks who visit the Brandywine brick-and-mortar.
55-to-64. My people.
Women of substance.
Women of wit.
Women of wisdom.
Women who are not stressed about the little $hit, mainly because we don't have time. Because we are on the "downhill" side and we know that if we sweat the small stuff, we won't have the energy to sweat the big stuff. And the big stuff is inevitable. Big stuff happens, and the older you get the more frequently it happens.
We are the folks whose parents die, whose kids get divorced or lose jobs, whose aches and pains can no longer be "shaken off" and who have to make life adjustments nearly every day. And we do it.
We aren't the women who expect trophies or kudos or shout-outs or features or whatever...but we're the ones who should get them. Because we are the glue that keeps the whole dang thing from falling apart.
For a long time, I was sad that I wasn't cute anymore. I was sad that no one paid attention to me at my job. (I was especially sad when a young teacher called me "irrelevant.") I was sad that I wasn't able to keep up (physically) in my dance class and (mentally) in speed trivia.
But I'm not sad anymore. I'm proud.
Proud to be a part of a group that is vital and interesting and funny and smart. Proud to wear my "battle scars," both physical and emotional. Proud to be living on a fixed income, because it forces me to be more creative. Proud to say that I have been married to the same man for nearly 33 years and no, I'm not bored, we are actually having a great time. Proud that I made it through those years my kids were teenagers and I thought for sure that somebody would wind up dead at the side of the road.
I'm proud of you ladies, too. Proud that you have chosen my blog to read. Proud that I have made friends with many of you, even if it's only through commenting. Proud that many of you have shared your stories with the world, because we deserve a place at the table.
We have earned it.