So normally I have an idea of what I want to write about and then I write it, reread it, and paste it in here. Tonight I’m going freestyle (with apologies for those of you unfortunate enough to stumble on these musings). As an aside, I must note that I find it humorous to write the word “normally” in the last sentence, as if I have been doing this for something considerably longer than a week. But that is the interesting part, how quickly this has nuzzled its way into my life. Last night I was finishing up some laundry (I like to make sure all of my son’s clothes are clean before he arrives for the week), so it got late and I decided not to post. But man, it wasn’t easy, I had to seriously contemplate whether or not to post. I mean I felt an actual sense of obligation to at least put a note up that said, “Hey it’s late and I’m kinda tired tonight, so I’m not really going to write anything, but I’m thinking about you.”
Now who exactly was I thinking about? It is true that I appear to have about three people who are dropping in every day or two, one actual “Follower,” two spammers from Canada, and an average of about seven visitors and 14 views a day, but that hardly counts as a readership. Yet, I felt the draw. Writing about it tonight, I find it humorous. Last night, it was a tension packed decision. Ultimately I decided that since I had just picked up my follower the day before and it was my regulars day off, I was probably OK not posting. Today, though, different story . . . hence the ramblings.
On a completely unrelated note, since I am in full writing mode and now feeling spunky and wordy. I shall mention that a friend of mine just posted on FB that he is going to the funeral tomorrow for his wife’s cousin and it is the one year anniversary of his mother’s death. I know that his mom’s death came in the midst of a particularly tough year and so I felt a little twinge when I read that. With that heartfelt twinge in mind, I offered him the following advice: “Chin up and remember, real men cry. Then do shots. Then cry some more. Then do more shots. Then cry and mumble incomprehensibly. And then sing something.” He liked it.