Big Me

I read this on a friend's blog on September 1st: Someone recently told me that their blog was compromised by it readership. OMG! Yes! Yes! Yes! I know exactly what you mean. I mean, we want readers, but then when we have invited our friends, family, co-workers, the occasional student, and an internet full of strangers into our house that is our brain, how it is not compromised? It is all compromised.

On September 6th I was standing in the kitchen when My Lovely Bride returned from a meeting at church. Clearly annoyed. She then proceeded to tell me about a conversation with the associate pastor. Best I can tell he had been seeing my infamous Mr. Mom Facebook updates. And possibly posts on this here BLOG. Factor in that My Lovely Bride had requested he put someone in drug rehab on the church prayer list, as well as her not having been to church in weeks if not months and he assumed she had been in drug rehab.

Seriously.

So I ask myself is this here BLOG compromised. Or more than likely, not compromised enough.

I got my answer on Wednesday. A friend emailed me about The Little Warrior's broken arm. She wanted to know more details and had asked if I had blogged about it yet.

Seriously.

I told her no. And the reason was that on Sunday night, the Boy(s) and I were laying in our den on the pull out sofa watching TV and waiting for My Lovely Bride to get back with kid dope for Wy when I made an offhand comment about how our ordeal of that day made a good story.

Wy looked at me. Hard.

And said evenly, "It's not a good story."

"It's a mean story."

"Because I got hurt!"

Wy is right, of course.

Which is why I finished my note to my friend by saying, again, offhandedly, that maybe this here story could be the broken arm BLOG entry. Which it is.

At first this BLOG was a way for me to tell our stories for those that didn't live near us. So they would be a part of our lives. Soon after it morphed into what it still is, my remember when, for then, then being the Buck Rogers future. I know for a fact that if I didn't capture these type of stories here, we'd surely forget them. Then again if people are thinking that My Lovely Bride is in rehab and or anticipating what crazy shit I'll tell when my baby breaks his arm (not that my friend was being a voyeur, She was genuinely concerned for Wy,) well, maybe it is time to compromise. Or pull the plug. Or get off my lazy ass and try and write something people would pay good money to read. At least then I could buy The Little Warrior something nice for telling his mean story to friends, family, co-workers, the occasional student, and an internet full of strangers.

Until I BLOG again...When I talked about it, carried on, reasons only knew.