Tens of readers -- anybody? -- might have noticed that I'm not blogging every day. It's not for a lack of ideas -- I've got notebooks and scraps of paper with scribbled ideas scattered all around. A lot of them come to me when I'm out on the bike, and on occasion the whole blog is fleshed out by the time I make it home. Sometimes I misplace one or two, but there's still a good week's worth or more ...
Michael Vick
Dove-hunting season
NPR
Library books
Corporate rudeness
Chien-Ming Wang
Flagstaff
Not working vs. unemployed
Courage
Reading the news in print vs. online
Dave's Diner
Good bad foods
... how could I go wrong?
It's probably not for lack of time, either -- but I will say this: Maybe it's my Catholic upbringing -- you'd never have known -- but for me, blogging comes with just a touch of guilt. If I'm sitting in front of the keyboard spouting off into cyberspace, I'm not doing something else that might be considered productive. Like contributing to the state of domestic tranquility while the Mrs. is at work. Or using that time in front of the keyboard to make sure I'm uncovered every stone in the search for gainful employment. Or exercising. Or reading. Or volunteering.
It might best be described as lack of purpose.
In my world, blogging is like an exercise in online journaling -- the same sort of pen-to-paper writing we might have done back in the day -- only it's public, so none of the juicy stuff.
I've got a lot of thoughts rattling around in my cage, some of them I believe in strongly, but that's all they are -- thoughts. I've got no special access, no insider knowledge, so what I have to say about Michael Vick should be no more valid than what the guy two bar stools over has to say. I don't mind sharing my opinion if asked, but you've got more important things to spend your time reading about.
That's it for now. Got to get cooking on tonight's World Famous Sausage and Potatoes.
Might write about it tomorrow. ... Or not.
Word of the day
Fracas
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