Pickle Dreams

…which is a little ironic, since I just decided to start a blog. I have no current plans to tell anyone of its existence – just set down a few thoughts on (virtual) paper. A little exercise. My writing muscles are as devoid of tone as my triceps (eegads).

I’m certainly a blog reader. There are four I read with relish: two by friends, one for fun, and one on philanthropy. There’s one that’s now gone that I miss. And there are a few others I visit from time to time. But by and large I’m an Internet lurker. A facebook voyeur, rather than an exhibitionist. An infrequent tweeter (and that’s in my “official” capacity, at that). Someone who faithfully watches “The Daily Show” the day after, then wonders (somewhat scornfully, I admit) who exactly has the time or the interest to comment – nay, even chat – about Jon’s latest guest.

So why, if I’m evidently averse to wading into the WWWeb, am I writing this in that very medium? Why not MS Word, or the mostly empty notebook that sits in my nightstand? Because I may just change my mind, and I like to be prepared [gasps of shock from all who know me well].