In my silly life, I count on some things being predictable. Some simply occur and I accept them. Then again, some of my truths are nothing more than just my opinion. I guess you could say I hold these truths to be self evident…
When taking my dog, Nellie, for a walk, she will poop on the lawn of the one person in our entire neighborhood who happens to be out front the moment we walk by. Every other house we pass is like the Twilight Zone, appearing eerily empty from the outside. Yet that damn dog will zero in on the one lawn which also happens to be perfectly manicured. She never does it on a dead lawn or in a rock garden.
I sense it the second I see someone out front tending their garden or mowing their precious lawn. Those people are like magnets to my greyhound. I even get my poop bag ready as we approach, prefacing my apprehension by saying, “Don’t even think about it, Nellie.” But she does more than just think about. Every. Single. Time.
Hard to believe I’ve been penning this blog since November, 2012. In case you suck at math, that’s 169 blog posts at once a week. That’s a lot of posts. Just between you and me, sometimes I wonder if I’ll run out of words. Although, as you’ve probably discovered, days when I have little to say hardly ever happen.
I don’t write about anything life changing or probably even interesting, mind you. It’s all mainly humorous observations about my life. That’s a quote from my About Me page, which you’d know had you read it. No worries.
If I’m being honest here, I have to admit I didn’t post a new entry every Sunday. And the reason I know this? Because I get a stat report at the end of each year from WordPress. You can’t believe the stuff they track. Don’t worry, nobody’s stalking how often you read my blog. That would just be creepy. I don’t actually know my readers’ identities unless they comment. (Hint, hint.) Continue reading →
There’s an elderly woman in middle America who blogs about her gout and what she did that day, which sometimes includes visiting the local Hy-Vee market to buy groceries. Why don’t we call her Mabel? Mabel then proceeds to explain how she cooked supper that evening. All in one run-on sentence with just a few typos.
I don’t recall how I came across her blog out in the vast blogosphere but I forced myself to keep reading. I was fascinated by its mundaneness while being intrigued with her large following. Nearly 1000 readers follow Mabel’s blog. That’s a dream to me. An unrealistic, keep on dreaming kind of dream.