The blog thing is a mystery. Really.
Don’t you ever wonder how you get 153 hits on your completely terrible blog posts and only 6 on the profound and brilliant ones? Then you find out that 5 out of those 6 hits were your family. Because you texted them.
I don’t get it.
I’ve come to the conclusion that the little mice who run the servers for my blog site are released from their cages every morning and allowed to run randomly about on a map of the world that has electrodes or something like that under it. When their tiny feet happen to touch on one of those sensors, that part of the map lights up and zoom, my blog post shoots off to some country like Latvia or Namibia or Vanuatu or some nearly deserted island where only eleven people live.
There’s no rhyme or reason. Believe me.
Honestly, I write these posts for pure enjoyment. I have no agenda, no outline, no purpose other than to share a bit of what goes on in my rather odd brain. So if it comes across that I’m a little quirky, kinda strange, really nice, sort of smart, totally Christian, fairly good at writing, or very proud of my kids and grandkids, then you know me pretty well. And really, the rest is not important. Especially the part where I throw things when I get mad. Except I haven’t done that for a long time. Throw things, I mean. I do the dishes instead.
So, wherever you are in the world, I’m honored that you took the time to read this.
We’ll see where the mice land tomorrow.