I need a better calendar. This one is telling me it's been 3 months since I blogged. There is only one good explanation for that: the darn Outlook calendar has a bug in it. Gotta get my Outlook guy to look at it.
Truthfully, though, the extended gap between outpourings of wit and wisdom is, I guess, a pretty good sign I've not yet become addicted to the "Blogger's Buzz". That's an affliction defined, by me, as a slightly giddy feeling you get when you add another dreadfully banal sentence to your blog.
I T'at I Saw a Puddy Tat
Don't even ASK me about Tweeting. Please, don't ask, just DON'T ask, okay? I was listening to a local radio talk show the other day and the guy was urging his listeners to follow him on Twitter. That just seems wrong. He's on the air two--three hours a day already! Three hours a day should be enough for anyone. Even the great writers whom I admire most (Tolkien, Lamour, McMurty, and all the classics) couldn't possibly have anything interesting to say all day, every day. I have no idea what the average number of characters comprise the typical "tweet" (or is it "twitter", maybe just "twit". I have no idea), but I'll wager it's just about enough to fill the screen on an IPod. As far as I'm concerned. there's not much of interest one can say in that much space. IMHO, of course!
And sometime I'll tell you about a Sunday morning show I happened to catch a part of a few weeks ago. Not here, though. Some of you might actually be His listeners. Don't need to offend everyone all at once.
Good Hearted Woman In Love With a Good Timin' Man
Oh, yes, Access. This blog is supposed to be about Access. Let's see, Access. Yup, still designing and building Access tools for clients, yup. Good Hearted Access is still taking care of her unfaithful man. Thanks, Babe.
Okay, back to the good timin' stuff.
I Ain't Askin' For Much
Just a few more hours of good music before bed and maybe a hot cup of tea and lemon. That's it. I'm coming down with a cold and feeling all yucky and tired. Save the good timing for next week, or the week after. It's just too hard to be all smart and entertaining and stuff, when the most you feel like doing is dragging your tail off to bed.