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.
Sometimes it’s Saturday afternoon and I’m not sure what I’ll write for my Sunday blog. It posts at 6:00 a.m. Sunday morning and time’s a-wastin’. That’s when panic covers me like a bad rash. I have no words (I know, rare huh?), no photos to contribute, no ideas to share. Zilch.
I’ve been writing this blog for nearly 2 years. That means I’ve written close to 100 of them. That may not seem like many to you. But let me tell ya, when one has been running around all week chasing after tennis balls and feral cats, having to post a 600 word essay on Saturday night is, I admit, one of those rude awakening moments. Continue reading