Oh, Well

       Really thought you'd enjoy "Love is a Verb".  Of course you could only make that call had you read it.  But once again, or what has become de rigueur, in the wee hours I was loping through Facebook - which is NOT de rigueur, but rather it is the following - and chanced upon my site only to see the title plus a few enticing lines of the piece followed by the directive/info-crypt, "Me Only", with regard to the fortunate potential readership.
       Of course I robotically and manually changed the classification to "public" but have no way of knowing whether the Great Blog Genie felt like snaking up out of his cozy wish-granting vessel to honor the request.  More to the point.  If a person writes a post for her established blog, pays a service to have it managed and follow its readership effectiveness, why on earth would she then label it to be read by "Me Only"?  I mean, a hunter green, Moroccan leather-bound diary would be the container of choice for these personal-applied-to-current-events ponderings, no?  (Don't be shy.  Disagree if you wish.  It's just between "us" anyway.)
       So this evening, as I await a call from my traveling husband whose flight was twice cancelled and although he should soon be in Memphis, he may well be in Morocco, binding or playing it again with Sam, I chose to again spill some words on a page - just for fun/diversion.  Having walked our beagle twice today, I felt her third entreaty greedy and opportunistic and retaliatory, IE, "What have you done with my Daddy?  Hmmmm?", so I've sent her into the night alone.  I mean she is alone, NOT I made the decision myself. 

Do Tell was in total agreement, species notwithstanding.  (Although his commiseration with me was decidedly half-hearted as he is far more interested in the breaking news of some tsunami off the coast of Chile.  I believe he has family in the region or maybe just gets over-absorbed in "wet, potentially slimy" stories.)

       Yours truly will return to a fascinating story about daydreaming and how Dr. Singer's studies seem to indicate a direct relationship between this activity and a serious, cognitive, disciplined bringing-to-fruition of the daydreamer's future accomplishments.  This finding dashes the methodology of old-school teachers who actually punished the daydreaming student.  It also vindicates my stray thought way of being in the  world, introvert that I am, as it relates to my childhood predictions of someday being a widely-read and quality author.  (Thus far, the most significant missing element is a readership which is where we got started tonight.)

And just as you "don't pull on Superman's cape",

you don't mess with a caring, loving, role-model Grandmother.  A readership - so vividly dreamt and pondered - the lady shall have.

Later, Lorane. . . .