Skip to main content

I'm No. 1

I have been tagged by Miz Minka. This meme is every bit as narcissistic as the rest of them, and maybe even more so. The game--list five phrases that, if typed into google.com, your site appears as the first option. You can type your search phrase in quotes, if that helps. The end result will provide quite a telling description of your personally defined blog world. I tried and tried, searching every phrase I could think of, and I swear this is all I could come up with:

Small Town Next Door
My Favorite Place for Joe


That should surprise no one, I suppose, considering the subtitle of this blog is "blah, blah, blah." Is there nothing else unique here? Is there no other dominant phrase that demonstrates the homeyness and hospitality one feels when visiting? I feel at home anyway.

There are times when I end up back here after making the blogpal rounds, that I sigh with satisfaction the way I do when I pull into my driveway after a busy day away. When I come home, I kick off my shoes, check for messages, pet the kitties who wake up from their naps to greet me. Sometimes I play my horn or play at the piano a bit. I might have a cookie or figure out what to make for dinner. I am likely to spend time knitting or chit chatting or both, and I watch movies. I do all of those things here, too, but evidently I don't use phrases unique enough to make me Number One.

I have a sister-in-law who, when she gets to park in the first space in a parking lot, says "I'm number one!" She's not unique in that premier space, just the one to claim it at the time. Well, if that makes her Number One, then I'll claim this blog as my premier space and declare myself Number One even if I can't prove it while searching google.

Give it a try yourself and see what phrases or words make your blog Number One on the list of search results.

Comments

dive said…
I've never tried Googling for my blog, Robyn; I might give it a go when I get home from work.

I too, feel that comforting sense of "coming home" when I visit your blog. I confess to taking shelter here from the ranty mess of my own place.
And you are indeed number one. My first blogpal and top of my visiting list every day.
Well it used to be the obvious 'cheltenham daily photo' but now there's another person 'doing' cheltenham too so we're going to have to share the google space.
My full name brings lots of entries from writing and painting over the years (no it's not that it's impressive, just pure saturation!) but the other day i found someone totally using my name! Apparently i'd visited some therapist or other (never in my life have i) and was giving a rave review! Grr.
I googled homeyness and hospitality (no quotes) and you came up 5th in the entire universe of Google. But you're the first e-place in the list (Minnesota resorts above you), which makes you distinctive right there. And the #6 site? -- synonyms for world peace. Wow. Appropriate company. Consider this an official 'statement' of the unique place you offer...and the reason we're drawn to that light like moths.
You'll always be number one to me Robyn.
Miz Minka said…
Yes, homey and hospitable, very apropos. This blog is like a favorite coffee shop. I lurk more than I comment, but I do enjoy stopping by.
Mrs. G. said…
I'll have to go Google and see what comes up. This kind of scares me as some of my posts have a scandalous word or two. I think I have used the word ass about 1,337 times.

I love your...it is premiere in my book.
Gina said…
Hmm, I'll have to try this, I hardly ever try to Google things about myself.

And, every morning I wake up and shout, "I'm number one!"

It's quite affirming, even if no one else agrees with em.
Vic said…
I googled my full name once, and came up with some weird results. There the local mentions of things I'd done, which is okay... But apparently I am also a character in an erotic novel about large women. Great.

Popular posts from this blog

Am I Stupid, or What?

In two weeks, I will climb up into a charter bus, take my assigned seat, and ride 22 hours straight to Orlando, Florida. I will be a chaperon with the high school marching band, which will perform at Disney's Magic Kingdom--me and 180 people on four big buses for seven days. We will travel together, eat together, play together, fall down exhausted together--and after 22 hours, I suspect stink to high heaven together. Because of the crazy schedule, we will leave Ohio at 6 pm, travel all night and most of the next day, and spend several hours at MGM Studios before ending up at the hotel sometime after 7 pm. After I check in with the eight girls I am to supervise, I intend to shower and shower and shower. I intend to wear clean clothes and socks and brush my teeth until my toothbrush wears out. Of all the things I could be concerned about on this trip, being dirty seems to weigh heaviest on my mind. One of my eight charges could run off and do bad things with her boyfriend, but I'...

No More Mr. Nice Guy

It's good to be a nice person--to say nice things, to do nice things, to write nice things--but I declare an end to the use of the word nice. Nice is what you say when you can't think of any other adjective. Someone shows you a picture of their back yard--that's nice. Someone tells you about their afternoon adventure--that's nice. Or someone describes their childhood in great detail and sometimes with painstaking effort--that's nice. It's a lazy word, and it's non-descriptive. Nice is like mashed potatoes with noodles and chicken gravy all in a big pile on one plate with some canned corn for garnish. Everything is the same color and texture and base substance--starch (this is a favorite Amish dish). Nice is like a partly cloudy day in April when outside feels like inside, and you can't tell a difference between the lighting and the temperature of your living room and the lighting and temperature of your front yard. Nice is a glass of lukewarm water. ...

An Offending Pile

So, I'm standing in my living room letting my mind wander for a minute or two as I stare out the window and watch the day go by, and I see my neighbors walking their dogs down the street. They are nice neighbors who are always friendly and responsible with their property. That is to say they aren't like the other neighbors who heap rubbish behind their house like Ma and Pa Kettle and let their dogs bark for thirty minutes at a time . Anyway, I see the nice people walking their dogs, a big golden retriever who is as sweet as can be and as dumb as a post—he once ate a sock and nearly died before it was surgically removed—and a new golden retriever puppy. Then I see Neighbor Wife suddenly run down the street with the big dog. Then I see Neighbor Husband stopped in front of my house with the puppy on its leash. And then I see the puppy taking a huge dump in my grass. Let me tell you, that is not done in this town unless the dog owner has a plastic bag handy and is ready to pick up ...