Orange

I wanted to rhyme or at least connect today with my last title, “Glitz,” while offering views of opposite sorts from those of Vegas-land. Nothing sparked (bitz, ritz, restz, bestz, etc.), so I opted for the word that rhymes with none.

It would be fun, it seems, to begin a blog-a-thon, flinging forth ideas frequently hatched here in my brain yet seldom written and submitted for your perusal. I don’t wish to commit, knowing I’ll likely not follow far through.

But I learned something this summer, and it’s a place to begin. I find the reason a writer ought blog is to connect with readers. A reader often also fits the description of a fan: someone who follows (in this case, reads) with enthusiasm, expecting more of what pleases him or her and wondering what’s the hold-up when the producer of the (in this case) blog they’re following slows or stops production.

One must first have readers, I’ve noticed, in order to connect with them. On the positive side, if one has no readers, no one complains when said one stops producing posts for a while.

Until the acceptance-for-publication fairy visits me or by chance I fling a blurb that incites delight or indignation or both from magical masses lurking in the 'osphere, I’m posting for myself, sometimes feeling Charlie Brownish. Yet I’m also quite free. Anything (nearly) goes, 'cause no one’s watching.

Least of all Logan, whom I mentioned once before, and who hates blogs, but whose recent antics at our church campout fit my desire to tack up an image far removed from Las Vegasian selections. Here are a few of my unglitzy friends and Logan.




I just know if he posted something about what he was doing that day in the tree, he’d have readers.