At any given time, I am worrying about eight different things. There are certain thoughts that have occupied one of those slots for years (“oh? This old worry? I’ve had that one for aaaaaaaaages. I don’t even remember where I got it”) but at least two or three slots are reserved for current crises.

But here’s the interesting thing, when one crises is resolved–and even if it isn’t “resolved” in the neat sense of the word; when the best or worst possibilities come true; when time moves along and I’m still moving forward and breathing and functioning–I learn nothing from it to apply to the other crises. I still worry just as much. I needlessly worry as if it’s my job.

(Note to self: google “worry for pay” tomorrow when I get a second)

This past weekend something that had been occupying a slot happened and passed. I had spent hours worrying about it; hours crying about it; hours calling up old friends to catch up so I could spend some time talking about it with someone other than Josh who had endured enough 11 p.m. what if sessions. And it was a lovely day. The sky was blue. I wore a sundress. I came home happy.

Josh said to me: “what did you learn from this? That perhaps the worrying is for nothing and things work out in the end and when they don’t work out, we keep living regardless?”

What I learned was that a slot was now free and I had to worry about which big ticket item to put in the empty space.

Dumber than a napkin.

Welcome back to Show and Tell. Everyone is welcome to join, even if you have never posted before and just found out about Show and Tell for the first time today. In fact, we hope you do go back to your blog and post your own Show and Tell item and then return with the link to your post. Details on how to participate are located at the bottom of this post.

Let’s begin.

On my honeymoon, I began telling Josh a story while we were swimming in the water. I came home, started writing it down, and secured an agent with a few chapters. And then we started trying to conceive.

Over time, the writing slowed down to a trickle until I was barely recording a few words at each session and the writing sessions moved from days to weeks to months apart. I paused around the fourth chapter.

I didn’t begin writing again until I was a few months into the pregnancy and then I raced to finish the book, churning out whole chapters at a time. I wrote the last page on Monday. I completed my final edit on Tuesday. I mailed the book on Wednesday. My agent at the time received it on Thursday. I went into preterm labour and delivered the twins on Friday.

Between mailing the manuscript and delivering the twins, I went to a store and bought myself a ring. Rings have always held great significance for me and with each life change, I have purchased a ring. This one was called “Stones in a River” and it fit who I am and what is important to me perfectly. This is the ring:

I wear it on my right hand:

That is, when I am not wearing another ring. But this one has been back on my hand for a few months now. Regardless of the fact that nothing has ever become of the story (yet?) that moved me to purchase it.

What are you showing today?

Want to bring something to Show and Tell?

• If you would like to join circle time and show something to the class, simply post each Sunday (or earlier in the weekend or on Monday if you can’t do Sunday), hopefully including a picture if possible, and telling us about your item. It can be anything–a photo from a trip, a picture of the dress you bought this week, a random image from an old yearbook showing a person you miss. It doesn’t need to contain a picture if you can’t get a picture–you can simply tell a story about a single item.
• Label your post “Show and Tell” each week and then come back here and add the permalink in the comments section below (make sure you don’t just comment that you participated: add a link to your blog in your comment so people can click over). I post a new Show and Tell post every Saturday night or Sunday. I usually move people up into the body of the post every few hours.
• Oh, and then the point is that you click through all of your classmates and see what they are showing this week.
• If you want it…
  I’ve now placed a Show and Tell archive on the sidebar that will be updated each week in case you miss it. And click here for the icon code if you wish to have it for your blog. It links to the archives.

I’ve been cleaning up the sidebar and adding things. It just felt like it was time to streamline. I’ve started adding labels so I could find all of the Roundups or all of the Virtual Lusharies in one fell swoop. Those labels (and I’m just doing them for repeating projects such as Show and Tell or Barren Advice) are currently housed on the left sidebar above the blogroll and Operation Heads Up. On the right sidebar, I’ve moved a bunch of icons and their links to that yellow square called “ye olde sidebar.” Just click there and you can find everything again.

Blogging Name Registry is at the bottom of this post.

Some people noticed. Here is the full explanation.

Those who walk the Appalachian Trail* choose what is called a “trail name” and they enter it in a registry book kept in Harper’s Ferry at the ATC, an informal midway point on the trail. What is the point of a trail name? For one, it shows a commitment to the project (walking the trail) and entering it in the book is a marker of sorts. An accomplishment. It is a break between your life back home and your identity on the trail. The name can be a focus, a source of strength when you’re exhausted. Trail names generally come out of nowhere–they just pop into your head and feel right–or they are given to you by a fellow hiker.

I have always wanted a trail name.

I don’t really want to walk the entire Appalachian Trail.

Therein lies the conundrum.

Walking the trail takes enormous stamina and discipline. As does writing a blog–perhaps not the same type of stamina, but certainly, stamina and focus nonetheless. Especially if you are updating regularly and presenting original writing (sorry, spam blog writers, I just can’t count you). The first year means that every holiday, every anniversary, every experience essentially is new. But the second year is the hard year. You go through each season again and need to write about each season again in a way that is fresh and new. You go through the same sorts of things, the same sorts of emotions over and over again and you need to figure out something new to say about them.

The first days may have been the hardest days for the Grateful Dead, but the second year is certainly the hardest year for a blogger.

I am less than one week away from getting through the second year.

Therefore, I am marking the event, nodding towards the stamina and the journey and the hard work by choosing a new secondary blogging name much in the same tradition as a trail name.

Lollipop Goldstein.

(“Um…is she serious? She just went through this grave, self-important explanation of the origins of choosing a blogging name and writing a blog–comparing it to walking the fucking Appalachian Trail!–and she chooses Lollipop Goldstein?”)

Lolly, for short.

The name just came to me as I was driving this week. I called into the backseat, “What do you think of the name Lollipop Goldstein?”

“It’s funny,” the ChickieNob answered.

“Do you like it? Do you think it’s a good name for me?”

“No.”

“Then what do you think of Popsicle Jones?”

“That is the perfect name for Grandma!” the ChickieNob said brightly.

Lollipop Goldstein is fitting on so many levels. At my core, I am a Jew who loves candy. As we move out, we have connections to things like Secret Ode Day and the lollipop icon. We have my penchant for passing out candy. We have that it’s whimsical and fun and I just might be whimsical and fun. We have…

Well, we can’t dig too deep. It ends there. But Lollipop Goldstein is my new secondary blogging name. I’m not changing the name of my blog (it will still be Stirrup Queens…like Cats, now and forever!), but this new name will ride alongside The Town Criers (the name you use as a “sign off” that others see when you leave a comment on their blog). I chose the Town Criers when I first started this blog (and the email address reflects this) because I saw myself as someone who liked to pass along information and pollinate ideas–take something from here and pass it along to there. A town crier of a sort. At the same time, I cried a lot so I was also, quite literally, the town’s crier. Sobber. Weeper.

Oh, and it’s plural because that liar rat fink bastard Josh told me he would be helping me write this blog. Ad la.

I haven’t exactly thought out how this will work, keeping The Town Criers (because I’m not changing my email address) but still utilizing Lollipop Goldstein. That will all fall into place, I trust, in the future. But right now, I want to open up this idea to you. The ATC has a register book where you can place your Trail Name and see all the other 2000-milers who came before you.

If your blog is two years old or older; or when your blog turns two years old (perhaps, if you just crossed into your second year, this will be an impetus to keep writing for 11 more months), please add your blog to the registry I have started on my sidebar–the Blogging Name Project–and state the new secondary blogging name you have either chosen for yourself OR that you asked others to choose for you in a post you place close to the two year mark (or, if your blog is over two years old, you could run this post now if a name doesn’t instantly strike you). It is fine if you’ve moved urls, changed your blog’s name over time, or have gone password protected: it counts as long as you have been writing what is essentially the same blog in some capacity for two years.

It is simple: (1) choose a new secondary blogging name; one that defines part of who you are or what your blog is about. Do not change your blog’s name, only choose a new secondary blogging name–one that you will use or one that is purely ceremonial to mark that your blog is over two years old and you plan to keep writing (2) leave a comment below stating your new name as well as your blog url. Please also include your blogoversary date–the day you began your blog. (3) I will move this information and link it in my sidebar when I see it.

Unlike hiking the trail, which requires one to be able to leave work for a year, be physically up to snuff, have limitless courage and endurance–in other words, it’s unattainable for most–receiving your secondary blogging name is attainable for anyone who wishes to try. The only trait you must possess is the ability to keep writing.

Lollipop Goldstein, use it or lose it (“lose it? What the hell does she mean by lose it? Mel is really confusing me right now. Is she Mel? Is she The Town Criers? Is she Lolly?”).

The answer to your internal monologue: I’m all three. I’m Mel both on the blog and off. I sign off with the name The Town Criers. And now, to commemorate two years of writing, I am Lollipop Goldstein. At your service.

What do you think of my name choice?

And I am happy to help you come up with a name for you if you’re struggling to think of one. Think of it as simply a fellow hiker bequeathing one to you as you walk together on the trail.

* The Appalachian Trail, for those unfamiliar, is the hiker’s equivalent of Mount Everest. It’s 2000+ mile trail leading up the eastern side of the United States. Though some people will go hiking on small sections of it for a weekend, the hiker’s pilgrimage is walking the trail from Georgia to Maine. This can take almost a year and it is one of the largest accomplishments a hiker can achieve. It is what essentially separates those who hike on the weekends to those who hike as an expression of themselves.

I’m waiting to see if anyone notices.

I’m still pouring drinks.

I really amuse myself sometimes. And that is important too. Even if no one else laughs.