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Do you have to be a blogger to like my post? Can’t you just be a friend or a relative, or, perhaps, a stumbling-upon-my-blog stranger? I say I’m writing this for myself and I am. But sometimes when I look at the numbers and I see a spike in readership I get very excited. So maybe in a way I really would like more people to read this. Why would they? I don’t know.

I am not a blog reader. I’ve checked out quite a few blogs. I’ve looked them over once or twice — no, usually once. Like I said, I am not a blog reader. I’ve given my address out and days later when I run into someone who knows of my blog they say, “I’ve been so busy, I need to catch up on your blog.” I say,”No, you don’t. It’s okay, I don’t need to hear excuses, I understand.”

So what makes a good blog? Apparently not my life. I’m pretty much done with the squirrel talk — for those of you who keep saying, “Enough with the squirrel already. Move on with your life!” (Actually only one person said that to me but I must treat her with kindness — she is one of my faithful followers and I hope she brings her computer to Hawaii.)

Why is it that when the weekend comes around I find it hard to get my 300 words out. Wait, it’s only Friday.

So, Hannah sent me a text last night, “What should I wear to admitted students day?” How do you answer a question like that? I’m surprised she didn’t call the admissions office to find out. She was going up to Columbia today for Admitted Students Day with her roommate, Anna. The two of them were accepted into the MPH program. I’m pretty sure the two of them were looking at each wondering what to wear. Or do you think it was all Hannah and Anna had already picked out her outfit?

I say: You’re already accepted — go naked, my girlie,  and don’t forget to accessorize!

Opening the Floodgates: Posting on Facebook

There — I did it. I posted a comment on Facebook. It didn’t come naturally. I’m more of a Facebook stalker. I read, I look at pictures. Sometimes I even meet Sylvia for dinner and afterwards we find a coffee shop with wifi and stalk around!

I don’t know what made me post.  Judy mentioned Genie Hamp and Joe asked about her whereabouts. Genie and I were good friends way back in high school and then some. So, I don’t know why but, I decided to be helpful. “Don’t know. Last I heard she was in Florida.” I hit return. (I am so full of information.)

Ahhhh, what have I done!  Before you know it, Judy is saying hi, Carol says she misses me — awwwwwww. Ricky wants to be my friend and Stephanie popped out of nowhere. Should I start twittering? Maybe this will get my blog readership up. How quickly would it take me to hit the one million mark?

SHED ALERT: The phone call yesterday said that the shed installer would be here between 9 and 12 noon today. I called Wood Kingdom an hour ago to find out his timing. She tried calling him, no answer. Then she comes back to the phone and says, “He should be there soon. You’re his third stop.” “And how long does it take to install the shed?” I ask. “About 3 1/2 hours.” Why was I so nice to her? I hung up and was wondering why on earth she would give me a  9-12 window when I am the third installation. In real time it’s now 2:03 pm. Still waiting at 3:16. Still waiting at 4:26. Here they are 4:35. Shed up in less than an hour and I forgot to take a picture — tomorrow.

I am in such a constant state of squirrel anxiety. Is there such a thing? I had some cleanup work done yesterday in the attic and today I looked in there and I see the vent that is hanging under the attic fan (original point of squirrel entry) is sagging and needs to be taped up. Maybe the tape didn’t hold or, maybe Stanley has returned with a vengeance. I  called my guy, John, and asked him to come take a look on the roof and make sure the screening around the fan is all intact. (He did and all was fine.) Now I hear a clicking noise and I know it is my noisy refrigerator . . . but I am still scared. I just tip toed over to the fridge and kept my ear flush against the door. Doesn’t sound like a squirrel to me.

Ahhh, there’s a squirrel on my lawn. Helppppp meeeeeeee!