I don't like to speak (or lament or boast) about my social life. It's tempting. Being single for the first time since the summer of 1998 (that hallowed era before the internet, espresso machines, and call waiting), I am intrigued by the new technology, opportunity, and rules that have sprouted in the dating world in the past 8 years and 12 days. Besides being aware of how clumsy that last sentence read, I am also aware of the risks involved in saying too much in a public forum. Just like you can't unbend a paper clip, you can't take back what you write in a blog. Sure I can delete and edit my posts but that assumes that no one has read and/or cached the original versions of my posts (not an unreasonable assumption).
So, I'll just keep rolling along, keeping my blog persona coy but informatively entertaining. I'll nod my head to the rising sun and willowy wind. I'll shrug my shoulders at the inevitability of consequences. I just used Blogger's spellcheck to check on my spelling of consequences and was amused to learn that blog is not an acceptable word. Their replacement suggestions include bloke and blown.
Back to by oblique thoughts... I'm swimming in a glistening pool of my own contentment. I'm happy. I know nothing of the future. I've spoken enough of the past. Seymour (a cat) is snoring as he splays himself on the Scottish blanket on the couch next to me.
On an unrelated note: Wow.