Howling at the Wind

Why do I howl at the wind each night? I didn’t use to do this. I like the occasional notoriety, but as I write these words,I find, it is the writing that I enjoy the most. Is it clarity of thought that the task of writing imparts? Does writing allow me to see my soul writ large? I don’t know. I began this blog on a dare. The blogger lady that kayaks called me out. I hope she does not regret her call, nor feel like the good Doctor Frankenstein, about the monster she has wrought. Back in the day, back before we had Facebook, Twitter and my blog, I spammed. I spammed my friends, because they were the only ones whose email addresses that I had. That was bad. I was bad, but I was committing just an internet misdemeanor.

Why do I howl? I hope that it is that I don’t get it. I know that it is that I can’t sell it. I guess that it is that I like it. OK, enough with this over articulated dialog. Blogging has replaced surfing, transmit over receive. More than that, blogging has caused both Anne and I to grow. I find myself searching every Friday morning’s “Get Out” section of the paper for weekend blogging activities. I think that my blogging has allowed us to grow as a couple. This blog has been a chore. It is a daily vigil. It is one that I welcome on most days and have become experienced enough about it, so that when I need to shun it, I can now deftly do it. This just happens to be one of those evenings.

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