300

In case you missed it, this is my 300th post since beginning this blog back in July 2008.

Having written 300 posts really rather surprises me. People have asked, "do you get tired of writing?" There are many things that grow tiresome. Cleaning bathrooms. Doing laundry. Making school lunches. Playing 'Candyland' or 'Chutes and Ladders.' Driving south on route 23. Answering the "why" questions of a 4-year-old.

But no. I don't tire of writing. I can't explain how or why I've written solidly, regularly for 18 months without tiring of it. Other than the fact that God wired me to write.

Then I got to thinking about 300 and its significance. Or insignificance.

Our family endured nearly 300 days in 2003 when the four kids were teenagers simultaneously. I'm not sure I'd have wanted any more days than that, but we survived.

300 hairs on a head. That's nothing!

300 pennies is $3.00. Not big to us, but significant to many people the world over.

300 dollars. Only a portion of the cost of one semester of college textbooks. Horrifying.

300 years. In 1970, the town in which we lived celebrated her 300th birthday, called a tercentenary. (I'll bet you knew 200 is a bicentennial, but 300?) Simsbury, Connecticut did it up big that year. As a 15-year-old Girl Scout, I joined my troop in recreating an "Indian encampment" beside the Farmington River as part of the celebration. This was very cool; I imagined myself as a real Indian squaw.

OK, so where is this post going? I really don't know, so I'll end it soon. But 300 posts in 18 months. Not bad, that is if someone has created an ideal average number of times a blogger should post. Which I certainly hope isn't the case.

There. Finished. Happy 300.