I tend to write mostly in what I consider to be a ‘witty’ style or, alternatively and more frequently, in the ‘reporting’, informational style.  You know: ‘we did this and we did that‘ kinda thing.

Reporting facts is kind of a drag but that was the blog exercise purpose when I started, keeping a journal of sorts.  So I do that.  Witty is, of course, in the ear of the beholder and I may fall somewhat short in that department now and again.  Sorry.  But I figure if Sal laughs, I achieved an acceptable level.  She’s my editor.  If she is pleased, I am pleased.  

I tend to let my political self out of the bag at times but politics and preaching and philosophizing are the 3 silent ‘P’s’ in boredom so I try to keep it to a minimum. Plus I don’t really know what the hell I am talking about most of the time so it is getting easier to cut back on the rants.  I’m even quieter in person these past few years but my reputation defies the facts on that score and I am still being accused of dominating conversations I have not even participated in. 

On a relevant tangent: I am appalled at my reputation as presented by my kids.  Whenever my son, B, introduces me to a young female friend of his, he first warns them about me.  “Be careful around my dad.  I am not responsible for him.  I am not even sure he’s my biological dad!  He’s crazy.  He may ask you your bra size or what sexual proclivities you have.  He’s not above asking about bowel regularity.  Or politics.  He’ll ask about your relationships, what you think, what you believe in and how attracted to him are you?  There are no good answers to that, by the way.  Just smile and try to leave the room.  Whatever you do, don’t answer any questions.  None!  It just encourages him!” 

I honestly do not think I warrant that kind of ‘safety’ warning.  OK, maybe a small ‘heads up’ kinda thing but, really, I am not a bad person.  I am basically a nice guy.  And, anyway, isn’t it time that bowel health came out of the closet?