Sometimes I wonder why I keep a blog anymore. I have no theme, no major issue that I consistently rant about, like I did in the early days of the blog. I don't feel that I can completely openly write here because God knows who will stumble across this thing. And so I couch my posts in vagaries and idle photos and banter, hoping that by saving my daily or weekly thoughts I will someday look back and be glad that I'd done this for myself if for no one else.

No, I'm not seeking positive feedback or compliments. I am just wondering, that's all, because when it comes down to the things that are really REALLY on my mind, the things that I feel (for whatever reason) that I can't post here, then I start to wonder why I keep this blog at all.

Last weekend we went to dinner at a home of self-professed anarchists. What does this mean, exactly? Well, among other things, it meant that their six year old was allowed to scribble on the walls (aka "cute" to an anarchist) and letting the twin weasels (aka ferrets) shit all over the floor. My life has no room for anarchy, thank you very much. And no, we will not be coming for New Years'.
And now this weekend, we went to dinner to someone else's home. Two individuals. One of whom spoke not a word to me. Not one. How is this possible?
Should I let you in on a very personal secret at this time? Did you know that I genuinely dislike people? Because there is something wrong with almost each and every one of them, while I, on the other hand, am absolutely 100% perfect (tongue planted firmly in cheek).