I get overzealous and excited sometimes when I see other people doing something I think I might can do just as well. I can't help it. Growing up with a bunch of male siblings and knowing the only things I can't do that they can is mechanic (although I know what all the tools are and don't mind helping), hook up wiring for a fuse box, and run a chainsaw, I'm always looking at what other folks are up to. Well. There's that too, but you know what I mean.
When livejournal came online some years ago I looked into it but it wasn't exactly right. I kind of forgot about blogging. Finding myself quite suddenly smack at the tail of - well - middle age (is 50 really the New 30?) with an empty nest and not enough hours in a day to accomplish the necessary things, what better time is there than now to begin the process? As Pete said to Ulysses, "That don't make no sense." It really doesn't, but there you have it.
I brought the lap top out on the front porch to enjoy what's left of the evening. With a bit of dental work done earlier in the day there's not a lot of energy to tackle any real chore. It's a pleasant afternoon. The yahoo toolbar tells me it's 79 degrees. The neighbor's son and a few of his friends are playing basketball one street over, the yappy dog across the street from them about to bark himself hoarse. The wood-boring bumble bees are trying to take up residence in the front porch swing again. The pink G.L. Tabor azalea nods heavy stems of blooms at the live oak tree which deposits a fresh carpeting of it's own dried blossoms on the groove and tongue lumber of the front porch with each suggestion of a breeze. The soft scents of the sweet olive, wisteria, and phlox are carried around to the front here as I sit listening to the chimney sweeps begin their evening chatter and another neighbor clanking around in a back yard, getting ready to grill. Somewhere up the street someone has run out of weedeater string and is not going to WalMart to get more.
I suppose it's a good day to start a blog. It will be about Mama and Daddy and family and the River and life here in Greene County, past and present. I won't be here every day. If I said I would, I'd be lying to the both of us. Most weekends you'll find a cake or two here to look at, maybe even drool over. I'm not much of a professional anything but I've words and I bake cakes in the Deep South in the small rural town I was born in and where I raised my sons. Join me every now and again; stop by if you're in the area. If you can't get me to the door, just holler. I'll be around somewhere.