My husband is a blogger. He writes a blog, he reads blogs, he comments on blogs and, on occasion, his blog is blogged about on other bloggers' blogs.
In spite of the veritable hours this all takes, I am fairly accepting - if not proud - of my lovely husband and his blog. However, recently, his blogging activity has taken a most disturbing turn, that is, he has started trying to convince me that I should blog. Ha!
"You should start a blog y'know", sez he.
"Get away, you big crazy... sure what would I even write about?", sez I.
"I don't know... what do I write about?", sez he.
Hmmm. Touché. People do indeed read (and enjoy) his literary meanderings, even though our lives are hardly full to the brim of glitz, glamour or even (for example on Sunday mornings) consciousness. Evidently there is some kind of demographic out there who are chomping at the bit for personal reports of local events and attractions. Perhaps these are the same people who, like, watch the news and stuff?
Add to this my recent desire to "get out more" (after years of being advised to do so by everyone from online acquaintances to my own mother) and I figured I could combine the two. Sure if I'm hauling myself out of bed on weekends to experience all that my wee city has to offer, I might as well write about. Perhaps someone may even be interested at some point (she says, doubtfully).
So there we go, my little blog's raison d'être. Now just to think of something of substance to actually write about - eek! Wish me luck!
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