So here I am. Blogging. Or rather, blog. ging. About shit! What?! Have I lost my mind? No, my people. I have not lost my mind. Instead I have gained a pair, or so I’ve recently been told.
This is what happened. I wrote a book. I’m not saying I succeeded, but I tried to write a very good book, and I’m using “very” as a qualifier despite the fact that it’s an exceedingly weak, puffy, flaccid, useless and gratuitous adverb that should be summarily ejected from the English language. Off with its head! But only after I’ve used it to promote my (so far) unpublished manuscript.The title of the book is the title of the blog, which refers to the steaming piles of crapola which life has at times chosen to present to me on a nice plastic serving plate that it picked up on sale at Tarjay. Nothing against Tarjay. Or serving plates. Or even shit, for that matter, because, as a wise t-shirt once told me at the Stone Pony on the Jersey Shore in the summer of 1987: SHIT HAPPENS. And it does! Lots and lots and lots of shit! Over and over again! And now I’m overusing exclamation points in addition to verys!
Let’s put it this way: In 2011, my beloved, brilliant husband, Chris, committed suicide. This left me and our three unbelievably spirited, beautiful children with a task ahead of us: to live. This is the same task each of us faces, though we all take our turns in the shit. When Chris killed himself, it was my turn. My children’s turn. The turn of everyone who loved him, was touched by him, helped and inspired by him. Another day and time it was someone else’s turn. Every day, every moment, is a turn in the shit for somebody. Our charge, as squatters in this mortal world, is to keep moving through it, to live on in spite of it, and to stick out a hand to help whoever’s slogging in a thicker pile than we are.
In the two years since Chris died, I’ve figured out lots of shit. So many things I’ve learned to do without him. So many skills I’ve acquired. And now, I’m working on a new one: how to blog. Watch me figure this shit out.
Figuring. Shit. Out. 
I can’t wait to watch!
Dee, you’re my very first commenter. For that (and your support) I thank you!
Ready for the ride…
Thanks, Connie!
I’m watching to knowing the book is outstanding!
Hey. Yours will be, too.
If it makes you feel any better, in the midst of one of my spirals, my minister offered these words “shit happens”….looking forward to reading all about your journey:)
Susan
Thanks so much, Susan.
Go on…
Ha! You’ll hear me coming down the hall.
I’m expecting to learn a lot about this FSO movement you’re defining and describing for yourself and for all of us. FSO sounds like a symphony orchestra’s initials, and maybe that’s appropriate. “Keep moving through it… and stick out your hand to help whoever’s slogging through” a thicker pile. What reflects the layered orchestration of the human spirit and condition more beautifully? Doo-doo is often deep and always relative. Who has it worse? Would you trade places? I respect and admire all those who are slogging, especially the ones who are conscious of the height and breadth of the mound and somehow rise above it(and through it, eeewww!). Sing it, Amy Biancolli.
Thanks, K-Ray. I’ll always sing it — if you promise to shred your bass underneath.
Fran S. sent me over — looking forward to following along!
Danke schoen.
My personal philosophy of life: shit happens! Can’t wait.
As a well established shit magnet, I know we need this. “Our charge, as squatters in this mortal world, is to keep moving through it, to live on in spite of it, and to stick out a hand to help whoever’s slogging in a thicker pile than we are.” Can’t agree with this more. Empathy and love have great power in helping us to slog through our own proverbial shit. Feeling these from others, especially when they are slogging at the same time, is minimally inspirational and can be lifesaving. Thank you for kicking off the blog, Amy.
Bro, you COINED the term “shit magnet.” I have to give you props somewhere on this blog (especially as refer to it in my bio). And thanks back, Randy. For everything.
You’ll never figure out how to blog. I’ve been doing it for eight and a half years, long before I showed up on the TU blogs, and I still have no idea. I mean other than the attributes you already have, which can be summarized in one sentence: Don’t be an asshole. OK, a corrallary: don’t allow assholes to hijack your blog.
A word to the wise – thanks, Roger.
If you get shit figured out and write about it, there is hope for all of us. Looking forward to reading more!
Much appreciated, Fran.
Queensbee is my Nom de plumb…o itz barb….so I wish I could put fingers. To keys to write as well as u do….so keep on keepin on…..and keep the shit going… dang if I know what any of it means..
Thanks, barb!
No one goes through the shit of life with as much grace as you.
Thanks, Danny. But is it grace? Or is it all the hands that carry me — yours included?
Yes. Keep Going. One Pile at a Time.
Whoa! Thanks for the love, Nippertown! You rock (literally).
Good shit, Amy. Very (that’s right, VERY!!!), intrigued.
Thanks, Michael!
I’m looking forward to reading your book. I read your story today in the Times Union, and I am so sorry to hear all that you and your children have been through. But what a great example you’re setting for them by embracing life despite the heartbreak that you have encountered.
Thank you so much, Claire.
I like to go to the root of a blog and see what kind of seeds were planted. You certainly had some life changing material to get you going. Based on your most recent posts that I just read, you figured this shit out quite well. I like the life in your writing. I wandered here from the TedX bio’s. Nice job with your blog. Good Luck next week.
Veery thoughtful blog
Thank you!