archives...

This picture is titled, "what happens when I'm not around," but it works as an illustration of my Sunday, as well. Because I read, napped, and cuddled with Kittay all day long. She followed me to every new spot - nestled under my shoulder as I sprawled on my stomach on the bed, climbed onto my belly when I was curled on the loveseat with my feet in the air, and camped out on my lap while I read in a chair. It's been a pretty great Sunday, if only those boys had called back - a quick run for milk and I'd have made breakfast as usual, but one's notorious for not calling back.

I found a new blog to read - I sort of stumbled upon it in a random bout of internet surfing, and when a new blog is discovered I find myself going back, back through the archives, reading a history online, getting to know someone I don't know at all. This girl with a cat lived in Boston when I did, and lives in cities and dates boys, and tells stories about it all. I loved reading about how our lives overlapped.

It made me think about my own online history. I recently took down my archives on the old site that stopped working (see googlestinks). There was quite a bit on the old pages about the "awful situation", and on the off chance the wrong someone stumbled upon it, I took it down. Part of this comes from a desire to spread the word a little more about this site, without causing a rehash of all of the bad that I (truly) find myself not angry about anymore. I'd taken down the old pages, with all of the Boston, Janemyjane, and boy stories that I love, and a big chunk of personal growth through not-so-anonymous sharing. Of course, with the change from one venue to another, I don't know how much traffic those pages would get, or if it just makes a difference to me to know that those stories are still out there. It's not like I'm big in the blogosphere, so there aren't many random visitors who stop to read through my archives, hoping to get to know me without every having to meet me. Having gotten into the habit of blogging, however, my archives feel like a piece of me.