My Blog: A Beacon of Warmth.

First off, I'd like to draw your attention to the word warmth. Say it out loud. Have you ever asked yourself why you insert a silent "P"? WARMPTH. WARMPTH. Just saying.

Okay. Second item of business, I believe I owe all 2.5 of you an apology for my neglect of this blog. Just know it is a reflection of how boring I am and has nothing to do with how much I value my legion of readers. Now, I would hate to give the impression that nothing noteworthy ever happens to me. Life is grand. I do stuff all the time. I just haven't been inspired in the blog medium. I write songs, dream up teen fantasy novels, and even occasionally delve into the world of pottery. In short, I am more inspired than I can explain... Just not as a blogger. At least not in a way that is satisfactory to me.

The last thing I ever want to do is turn this blog into a show and tell blog. ie Today I went to a pumpkin patch. Here is a picture of me with a pumpkin. Here is a picture of Lorraine with a pumpkin. Here is a picture of Lorraine and I with a hobo scarecrow. The hot chocolate was the best! Scarves. Blah blah blah.

If my blog isn't inspired in my own quirky little way, then I put it on ice. And while it is depressing to see that I only have one entry so far for all of 2011, it is far better than the alternative.

PuMpKiN FuN!


P.S. That is a pumpkin patch that I planted and neglectfully cultivated along with a few coworkers and friends for fun. The pumpkin patch turned out alright, except that we didn't really market it and now I've got a field-full of rotting pumpkins.

So I was feeling inspired to post because my sister Lacey mentioned that whenever my other sister, Kayli talks to her on the phone from her dorm room in the hinterlands of Rock Springs, Wyoming, she laments that I do not blog. I must admit that I am a horrific long distance friend... Possibly the worst. That goes for family too. If I don't see you, I don't talk to you. That is not to say that my love for you has diminished, only that my attention span rivals that of a domestic chicken (whose population is over twice as numerous as the human race according to this NPR article) ...Anyway... to quote Lacey's message directly, "It's her only connection to you in her dark, cold world." Now I'm sure Kayli's world is just fine. But I do enjoy the idea that my blog is possibly a bizarre beacon of warmth to those who have followed it over the years. Besides that, I would like her connection to me to be a little more up-to-date than some lie I posted in March about how I was going to start blogging more. So here it is.

So what started my conversation with Lacey in the first place was that I was listening to Christmas music streaming from the FM 100 website, because as we all know, the holiday season begins on the first of November. Anyway, I was listening to some Holiday tunes, and heard Karen Carpenter's ageless croon, so I decided to spread the cheer to my sister by sending her my favorite line of the song (Which I believe I have mentioned on here before.) "Logs on the fire fill me with desire..."

Anyway, that was my attempt at a segue to my holiday '12 plans. I have decided in the interest of not driving my coworkers, wife, and least importantly myself crazy, that I will not be keeping a strict count of holiday songs this year. I know, I know, it was the only thing that made my blog interesting. Well, the captivation that you all enjoyed as you checked the train wreck that was my immersion into two months of non-stop Christmas tunes came at great cost. The ruination of traditional Christmas cheer. I don't know, I guess there's something about me groaning and shaking my head violently on Christmas Eve as I listen to Feliz Navidad for the forty-fifth time of the season that sort of sucks the joy out of the festivities. So as a compromise, I have decided to begin listening to holiday music early as always, but only when I want to. No more weaponizing Christmas music. So no more song counts, or violent Christmas blog post outbursts. I am enjoying my Christmas torture... in moderation.