Cutting my toenails in the moonlight

Life is a journey.

So is a blog.

There are several stages. One is where you blow off what you think to the unknown. Then you step back and wonder is that relevant. You also know it is a raw side of yourself. Do you really want to tell all that to a Ukranian hacker?

Then you learn the give and take of a social community. Marvel at someone discussing cutting their toenails can get ten thousand visitors a week. Regularly read a person's running ad and then one day an idea from their blog cuts you to the bone.

My favorite or least favorite is a blog which is essentially the lamentations of a woman's nonexistent love life. I get the all too painful loneliness of longing from self-experience. There is a frustration I feel for them. Reading a person's lonely search for love and they are on the cusp of being fifty. Their big declarations of independence and search for meaning in the outer world. What I did at twenty to not too dazzling results.

The blogger will never see herself in my blog. She doesn't visit other blogs. Besides, I have exposed myself some.

This week I have learned one thing and accepted another. I've learned when I have the desire to make a long ass comment, I should cut and paste it for a future blog post. Then write an appropriate comment.

What I accept is that there is so much "crappolo".  I no longer have that flexibility of youth to think I should mold myself to survive. Reading an article about a killer is no longer a caution but a call to anger at injustice and cruelty.

Meanwhile, I ponder all the blarney people do that is just plain stupid. I think of listing some. Then I remember, I've decided to just accept it. It is not going to change because I have a thought or opinion.

Last night I slipped outside by myself around 11:30 PM and cut my nails in the moonlight. My dog Loretta gets beyond neurotic about nail clippers. Her first impulse is to get in my mom's 85-year-old lap with her 60-pound self. My mother has some powerful juju which can protect a dog from thunder, gunshots, and nail clippers.

I carefully put the clippers in the glove compartment of the car. Loretta was waiting for me at the door. It didn't make sense to her that I would go out without her. I told her, In the olden days, people kept journals. Now we keep blogs that we can edit and delete at will. She seemed happy with my answer.

Maybe I should become a politician when I grow up.


  1. There are many out there, some good, some not so good, but to each their own I guess. the ones that don't comment back and are all about me me me, I ignore. Who knew nail clippers were so scary lol

    1. You are one tough cat to not be scared of nail clippers. The lovelorn blog I go to give support. It takes me awhile to make a comment at times because I don't relate to what is said. Most of the blogs I go to are tolerably good. It is much better than catching the national news and listen to all the craziness going on.

  2. Nail clippers scare the living hell out of my dogs too!


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