According to my blog’s stat page, I haven’t written squat since Christmas Eve. Is that right?
Okay, my editor says I shouldn’t openly admit how long it’s been since I last wrote, and…
*receives another note*
Okay, I’m also not supposed to mention how my editor sends me notes.
*receives third note*
Oh for cripes sake, I TOLD you the chocolate is on the second shelf, toward the back. Sheesh!
Anyway, sorry for ghosting on you. Been a bit busy and all that. I’ve got a couple blog posts percolating, but nothing quite up to snuff. So instead we’ll be doing a quickie for today.
This came to me via a sister from the convent. She works with college students at a volunteer ministry and they were studying the creation story. One of them brought up the scene from the Sistine chapel. The part where God is reaching out to Adam.
You can picture it in your mind, right? I don’t need to show it to you.
Okay fine, I’ll show it to you:
So the student pointed out something I was aware of, but never really thought about.
Look at how how God — he’s the one on the right — is stretching out with everything he’s got. You can see his muscles at work, he’s straining, doing all he can to reach Adam. The angels look like they’re holding on to God, afraid to let go.
And then there’s Adam. Lounging about, taking it easy, barely managing to hold his hand out.
I mean, he’s not even looking at God.
Did you ever notice that? I didn’t.
I don’t know what Michelangelo had in mind, but I couldn’t help thinking this is like an extremely condensed version of the entire Bible.
God — forget for the moment he’s shown as a white-haired old man (this is art, baby) — God is always reaching out to us.
Come on, people… just a bit farther… you can do it!… I’m right here…
And we’re all, like…
“Hmm? … Oh, yeah… um… I don’t know, God. I’m kind of swamped right now...
Isn’t that interesting? And when you think about the Biblical stories — taken as a whole, I mean — then it seems clear that…
Okay, my editor thinks I’m getting too religious and need to back off. But you all know I work at a convent now, right? It’s gonna be hard not letting it creep in a little.
*yet another note*
What do you mean you can’t find it? You freak out over a misplaced apostrophe, but you can’t see a box of chocolates right in front of your face?! Geez!
I better go. I’ll see you all next week. In the meantime, keep reaching… 😉
Several bloggers I follow recently announced they will be taking a break from blogging. Most gave a time frame for their return, others said, “we’ll see.”
They will be missed, but I commend them for taking a needed rest. Especially those who said it wasn’t fun anymore. I mean, if you’re not enjoying this blogging thing, then why do it?
Which led me to think about this here blog. This Feeding on Folly.
You might have noticed our posting has been a bit sporadic. For the first three years there was an article every Wednesday, and sometimes a Saturday too if we were feeling especially productive.
But since this last June, around the time we relocated closer to Santa, the posting schedule has been hit or miss. There might be a Wednesday post, it might be Thursday, possibly Friday, or hey, maybe none at all. (Oh, the suspense!)
So after reading the fifth blogger in a row who wrote, “this will be my last post for the foreseeable future,” and I swear I heard a dirge playing in the background, I got to wondering if that was my problem. Maybe I’m in need of a break? Am I facing blogger burnout?
Has Fun left the building?
We decided to give the matter some serious thought. It was time for Self-Reflection, and if you’ve been following FoF for any reasonable amount of time, you know that Self-Reflection is our game.
For our evening of Rumination and Cogitation, we selected the chair nearest the fireplace and poured a glass of zinfandel.
Some might say pinot noir is a better choice for Introspection, but there is much to be said for zinfandel. The primary one being the zinfandel was on sale for six bucks and the pinot wasn’t. So there you go.
Sitting in the chair with Me was the Me doing the analysis. The Me doing the analysis was drinking Earl Grey, as she wanted to keep her wits about her.
Our conversation went as thus:
Me: It’s nice to see you again. How are things going?
Me: No complaints. You?
Me: Same. I noticed you didn’t do a blog post last Wednesday. Is everything okay?
Me: Aw, you noticed! That’s so sweet!
Me: Well, I didn’t notice right away. Truthfully, I forgot it was Wednesday.
Me: Right?! It’s so hard to keep track of those things.
Me: So was that it? You just forgot? That’s… troubling.
Me: Is it?
Me: What about Thursday, Friday or Saturday? You could have posted something one of those days.
Me: Meh. I just wasn’t feeling it. And now I’m kinda worried I might be facing burnout.
Me: Uh-huh. And how does that make you feel?
Me: Interesting. Tell me, has the well run dry? Are you lacking ideas?
Me: No, I’ve got plenty of ideas. I just wasn’t sure any of them were blog-worthy.
Me: I see. Listen, how about you tell me one of the ideas and I’ll tell you what I think of it?
Me: Gee, I’m not sure…
Me: Hey, if you can’t trust me, who can you trust?
Me: Okay… well, for one of them I was writing about my new job at the convent and about how last week I was helping with this workshop thingy and when one of the nuns realized she forgot something she said, “Oh shit.”
Me: Really? A nun said shit?
Me: That should be worth a blog post. A nun saying shit.
Me: Is it though? I mean, so what if a nun says shit? They’re human.
Me: Yeah, but you don’t expect them to say shit. That’s what makes it funny.
Me: Maybe. But there’s only so many times you can write shit before you wind up with a post full of shit.
Me: I see your point. What else have you got?
Me: Well, then I started thinking about how different this job is from my last job. You know, going from a high school to a convent.
Me: Go on.
Me: And how after two months of working here it was the first time I heard shit, but there–
Me: You heard it every two minutes?
Me: Something like that.
Me: Okay, yeah, I could see that being funny.
Me: Yeah. But then I got to thinking I was sounding all goody-goody, like I had a problem with people saying shit.
Me: And really, I don’t care. I mean, hey, sometimes I say shit too.
Me: But not at the convent. I don’t say shit there.
Me: Some places aren’t shit-appropriate.
Me: And then I started writing about how I finally met the oldest sister at the convent. She’s 103.
Me: No kidding? A hundred and three?
Me: Is she the nun who said shit?
Me: No… though I bet she does, don’t you think? Say shit?
Me: I bet she does. Heck, when you’re 103, I bet every morning you wake up and realize you’re still alive you say, “Oh shit.”
Me: I suppose.
Me: Yeah, I bet she does. I bet she says shit.
Me: Listen, about this blog. What do you think? Give it to me straight – am I facing burnout?
Me: No, I don’t think this is burnout.
Me: Really. Borderline psychosis, maybe. A touch of schizophrenia. Mild hysteria leading toward an eventual breakdown, sure. But not burnout.
Me: Oh, that’s such a relief. I feel so much better.
Me: Glad I could help. Now pour me a glass of Zin.
I’ve been terribly negligent with my inbox. So many unread emails, so much blog reading I’ve fallen behind on. So little writing done that I’ve lost the ability to see a proper, preposition-free way to end that last sentence.
I’ll catch up on the blog reading, no worries there. Preposition-free endings are over-rated, so sail on archaic grammarian, sail on.
I might have done a little reading. Speaking of reading, do any of you subscribe to the New Yorker?
Neither do I, but I get their free weekly newsletter. They let you read four articles a month before you get the dreaded, “You have exceeded your monthly free articles, subscribe now to continue reading” notice.
Anyway, on account of it being Halloween, reading a few Shirley Jackson tales might be in order. And just for kicks, here’s a short article on the first paragraph of The Haunting on Hill House and why it’s possibly the best first paragraph in literature.
As for my own Halloween plans, I’ll be with my kids who are visiting for a few days. We’ll be doing our family custom: watching The Abominable Dr. Phibes, a campy horror flick with Vincent Price, and gorging ourselves on candy. (Fellow bloggers: I’ll be catching up on your antics in-between Vincent’s diabolic murders.)
A more serious concern: Neighbor Buddy tells us to expect “around 100 to 200 trick-or-treaters.” He says many of the rural families drive into town, park, and let the kiddos wander the neighborhoods. (Eek!)
There’s a story of a ceramics teacher (and if I had the gumption I’d find the source for it) that carries a lesson for us all. It goes as follows:
It was the end of the year and the teacher gave the class two options for their final project: they could choose to have their work graded by quantity or quality. Those who chose quantity were challenged to see how many pots they could produce in one week’s time. It didn’t matter what the pots looked like, only that they were completed. The students who chose quality only had to make one pot, but it had to be the best pot they could create.
Half the class chose quantity and began churning out pots right and left. As soon as one was done, another was started. And so on. All week long.
The other half of the class spent their time working out their designs, analyzing their methods, pondering and planning and pouring over every detail, in order to create their one perfect pot.
At the end of the week, the results were graded and an interesting discovery was made. Not only did the “quantity” group produce the most pots, they also produced the best quality pots. Over and above the “quality” group.
Reason being, or so we can infer, they focused on the process rather than the results. And because they kept churning out pot after pot, they were learning and correcting errors as they went.
The article wherein I found this story related it to our own creative endeavors. Whether writing, painting, quilting, woodwork, music — anything we do where we hope to improve — the key is to focus on quantity over quality. Push yourself to produce as much as possible.
Want to improve your writing? Push out story after story. Your drawing? Create five or more drawings every day. Your photography skills? Take pictures everywhere you go. Really annoy the hell out of everyone you know.
You get the idea.
This concept was driven home to me a few days ago. I was working on a project, actually it was the “Bible Stories in Text” project I mentioned before, and I wanted to include some limericks and silly rhymes for it.
How hard could that be?
Turns out pretty hard. I spent one hour alone on Jacob and Esau and still didn’t like it. I was about to give up when I thought of the ceramics story. For the next hour I produced five more rhymes. None of them particularly good, but at least they were done. I shut the laptop and left to run some errands.
I had to go to my credit union because like a dope, I left my debit card in the ATM when I last used it. (No worries, nothing bad happened other than a dent to my ego.) On my way home I decided to stop at the park and sit on my favorite bench, the one under the willow tree. And though I never noticed it before, this time I read the inscription:
There was something about “Tuesday Bridge Club” that tickled my fancy. I grabbed my notebook — another article I read said you should always carry an idea notebook — and jotted down:
Soon 15 more lines appeared under it in some semblance of a poem. (I’m guessing since I spent the morning in rhyme, it just naturally flowed out that way.)
Not knowing anything of Bridge, I googled the rules and added a few references; once I got home I finished it up and within the next hour had that bad boy ready to post.
My point is, I’m fairly certain that had I not spent the morning focused on those silly rhymes, had I not pushed myself to produce several even though I was dissatisfied with them all, Dick’s tribute poem might never have happened.
Of course I can’t prove any of this, but it feels right and I believe it so. Plus I’ve got that ceramics teacher backing me up.
Here, let’s look at the guy again:
Quantity over quality.
Now in truth, none of this is too surprising. If you want to improve at writing, write. If you want to improve your singing, sing.
All together now: Duh.
But the fact is, however much we know this truth we still fail to put it into practice. Or at least, that’s the way it is for me. Maybe you’re self-disciplined to the core, wake every morning at the crack of dawn and write 20 pages before your first cup of coffee. In which case I don’t like you very much and I think you should go away now.
For the rest of us, we need reminders to keep going in spite of the drivel we produce. To push on, produce, finish our stories and trust the process. Let go of our need to produce lovely rhymes or charming stories, to let go of our desire to like everything we’ve written. Eventually — hopefully — we’ll like what we’ve written, but we’ll probably produce plenty of crap before we get there.
Perfectionism is a mean, frozen form of idealism, while messes are the artist’s true friend. — Anne Lamott
I have a stack of messes. About five or six unfinished stories I found while unpacking, one of which I barely remember. Each one began in a fever of creativity, that much I remember, but as soon as the going got rough they came to a screeching halt. As I look at them now… well, they’re not horrible. Some spots are quite good, others maybe not so much, but overall they don’t suck.
So here’s the thing: I’ve decided I’m going to dig them out, one by one, and give myself a timeline for finishing them. Let’s say one story per week.
They may appear in this blog — that part I haven’t decided yet. I’m not in the habit of printing much fiction here, so I’ll give it some thought.
(Okay, technically, I suppose there’s fiction here. For instance, I have no idea if Dick liked white wine or if he was a bourbon man.)
Mainly I thought that if I told others what I was doing — Hey guys! I’m spending the next 6 weeks writing 6 stories! — I stand a better chance of actually doing it.
The key is, and golly I sure hope I remember it, is to finish them even if I don’t like them. Because maybe by the sixth one I will.
By the way, I don’t think I’ve ever shown you the cover of my idea notebook:
I’m not expecting too much here, believe me. I just want to get the stories finished. And if you’re reading this, I expect you have something unfinished to work on as well, or some skill you wish to improve?
What with one thing and another, mostly another, I found I was without a blog post for today.
I mean, sure, I wrote things. A feeble response to an online article I read, the beginnings of a short story that went nowhere, and a silly thing about the Biblical character Job calling Heaven’s customer complaint line. Funny, but too long for a blog post and I wasn’t sure how well people knew the story of Job.
Anyway, rather than skipping this week and ruining my record of posting in a timely manner two weeks in a row, I’m going to toss out some random thoughts that were cluttering up my brain.
I wore boots yesterday and it’s still August. What’s more, I’ll probably wear boots again today. Ain’t life grand?
There was a squashed snake on the side of the road the other day. I saw it while walking to the post office. It was a pretty one, slender and long with bright yellow stripes. No idea what kind it was, but it looked like it nearly made it across the street before it was squashed. Poor guy.
I need to buy a rake. It’s not for leaves, though we know they’re coming. It’s for all the acorns. Our yard is full of them. So many that when you walk in the backyard, you don’t walk so much as roll. And I think the squirrels here are lazy. They don’t seem to be working very hard at storing food for winter. (Maybe they know something?)
So this is how it is. You write something funny about the Book of Job and think, gosh this is great. This is worthy of publishing. And so you check the submission guidelines for humor sites and magazines. That’s when you discover there just isn’t the market for snarky humor pieces about the Book of Job like there used to be.
I need more boots. I only have two, both black, one short and one tall. These were the ones I thought worthy enough to pack and able to withstand Minnesota weather. I’m thinking I need multiple types. Money is no object! (Who needs food?)
Back to the squashed snake. Why was he crossing the street? The side he left was woodsy and green. The side he was heading toward was rocky. Had he been satisfied where he was, he might still be alive today. What possessed him to leave his happy home? Was he unfulfilled as a snake? Was the weight of his responsibilities too much to bear? (*Gasp!* Did he, like our squirrels, foresee the future and found no reason to carry on?!)
Maybe what I should is bundle together my Bible stories in text, Samson’s online dating snafu, and the piece on Job — add a few more texts and alternate stories — then self-publish the whole lot of them. Hmm. It might work. I’ll have to think about it.
If the squirrels and snake are onto something, if we have but a limited time on this earth — okay, I guess we always knew our time was limited, but let’s say it’s more limited than we thought — does that change anything? Does it change how we live, how we act, or how soon we snatch up boots on sale?
Or work on the book we have percolating in our head? Hmm.
Excuse me. I should get back to work.
Feel free to look around. Please excuse the dust in the corners, it’s been awhile since we’ve cleaned over there.
Oh, and you probably saw the sidebar hasn’t been updated in… um… well, let’s not go into that right now.
The thing is, we deeply appreciate your visit here today because we know there are bigger, mightier blogs you could be reading instead. And if there’s anything we pride ourselves on at Feeding on Folly, it’s appreciation for our readers.
Also, we’re big believers in Blog Awareness.
Blog Awareness is a lot like Self Awareness, only it applies to Blogs rather than Self. (Not sure if you caught that?)
You see, we here at FoF (that’s Feeding on Folly for the acronym-challenged among you) strive to know the Who, What, Where and Why of our internet presence.
Who: CJ Hartwell & her various alter egos
What: A humor site with occasional recipes and questionable comma usage
Where: WordPress under the domain name feedingonfolly.com
Why: The world needs a respite from those who take everything so damn seriously. Also cookies. The world needs more cookies.
Happy with our Sense of Blog, much like one has a Sense of Self (hope this isn’t proving too difficult for you), we were satisfied with our place and forged ahead. Never looking back.
Though now we have reason to fear we grew complacent. For it’s come to our attention that while we were jotting down observations, posting our cutesy illustrations, passing off texts as worthy stories, far bigger and more important blogs were rising up.
Casting an ever-growing shadow over the FoF entity.
And how do we know this?
It came about like so: Back at our last place of employment (before we left Phoenix to become a Minnesotan, dontcha know), an email was sent out to all school staff by a dear friend, giving the Feeding on Folly link. Making dear friend dearer still.
In no time at all, the comments rolled in:
“I didn’t know you had a little blog!”
“I heard about your little blog!”
“I love your little blog!”
So you see? What we have here is One. Little. Blog.
There’s just no getting around it, friends. Here was a group of well-educated professionals who visited our blog and found it short.
Now it’s true we’ve not been blogging for a lengthy amount of time. A mere three years. Barely a blip in internet years.
But in that time, we at Feeding on Folly have worked hard – well, maybe not hard, but off and on, when the mood was right and we had an ample supply of Pepperidge Farm Dark Chocolate Milanos – to develop this space into the smattering of articles, recipes, and scribblings you see before you.
In truth, we’re rather proud of what we’ve accomplished here, and the cookie crumbs under the cushions speak to that.
So these comments reducing FoF to Lilliputian status were troubling. Where did we go wrong?
Is it the lack of ads?
Two years ago we paid big bucks ($15) to make this space ad-free. Was that a mistake?
Hey, if it’s what we need to be taken seriously…
Then again, I follow a few pros and they don’t have ads.
Plus, a brief history on the founding of Feeding on Folly…
Recently we dined at Macaroni Grill. I won’t say it’s my favorite Italian restaurant, but their complimentary herb bread is lovely and they know how to grill salmon right.
However this time, not being in a salmon frame of mind, I ordered their Ratatouille instead. Have you tried it? They serve it over grilled polenta, which I find inspired. (I don’t get out much.)
Anyway, the other day at Trader Joe’s, I saw they have polenta and *angels singing* I was inspired! For less than $10, I had all the ingredients needed to make a copycat recipe of Macaroni Grill’s Ratatouille.
And given how I hadn’t shared a recipe with you all in… let’s see… going on a year now? Unsure. It’s been awhile, I know that.
Funny how it used to be such a regular feature of this here blog, and now it’s but a distant memory.
Anyway, I gathered together the ingredients and prepared for the picture. Merricat rushed over to help.
I swear this cat knows when I’m holding a camera.
So the main ingredient to look for, the one that makes this recipe so darn easy peasy, is in Trader Joe’s frozen food section. It’s called Misto Alla Griglia, and it contains grilled eggplant, zucchini, and red peppers.
Now of course you could buy fresh eggplant, zucchini and red peppers, or pick them from your garden should you be so lucky, but that would add on extra minutes and then this wouldn’t be 5-minute Ratatouille, would it?
Oh, Merricat walked behind the ingredients! Quick, take a picture!!!
So now you see what the Misto Alla Griglia looks like. Also, you’ll need their polenta which you slice in thick rounds, and a can of their Organic Tomatoes “diced in tomato sauce”. I already had the fresh basil, onion, garlic, and jar of capers. (You can skip the capers if you don’t like them; I think they add a nice peppery taste.)
Back when I was regularly sharing recipes on this blog, I learned how to write some code so the recipe would appear in a nice little box with its own print button. But I don’t remember the code and I’m too lazy to look it up, so you’re out of luck. Sorry.
Here’s an interesting tidbit: the reason I added recipes when I first started blogging had nothing to do with the name “Feeding on Folly” and everything to do with my insecurities as a writer. I believed that if I didn’t offer something helpful – such as recipes – no one would stick around and read my little stories.
Okay, so you’ll want to let the Misto Alla Griglia thaw a little. The veggies are in large pieces, but they’re easy to chop once they’re partially thawed. While they thaw, chop half the onion and mince three to four garlic cloves. Saute in olive oil until softened.
Merricat monitored the thawing for me.
Once the onion and garlic are softened, add the can of tomatoes, the chopped Misto Alla Griglia, and two tablespoons capers. Add some Italian seasoning — maybe a couple teaspoons? — and salt to taste. Keep over medium heat until hot, a few minutes or so. As it cooks, fry or grill the slices of polenta.
I bet you’re wondering how I came up with Feeding on Folly for my blog name, am I right? Glad you asked.
About the time I was puzzling and puzzling until my puzzler was sore over what to name my blog, I was reading a collection of James Thurber’s essays called Lanterns & Lances. In the forward, he explained his main purpose in writing:
“Much of what follows, therefore, is my own attempt, in my own little corner of the struggle, to throw a few lantern beams here and there. But I also cast a few lances at the people and the ideas that have disturbed me, and I make no apologies for their seriousness.”
I rather liked that. You might say I was inspired. And I was particularly fond of the alliteration with Lanterns & Lances.
Alliteration is something that tantalizes my thoughts and sustains my soul.
I set out to find my own and spent an inordinate amount of time doing so. Eventually, in a moment of happy luck, I landed on Feeding on Folly. Nervously, I did a quick internet search to see if it was taken. It wasn’t, but I found this:
The discerning heart seeks knowledge, but the mouth of a fool feeds on folly. — Proverbs 15:14 NIV
So there you go. Bible approved.
Also, cat approved.
To serve (the Ratatouille, not the cat), put two fried slices of polenta on a plate, spoon the ratatouille over them, top with fresh basil and shredded Parmesan if desired and serve with garlic toast.
To recap, I may from time to time, as the mood strikes me, continue to share recipes with you. But as dropping their weekly inclusion hasn’t seemed to adversely affect my readership, and no angry mob has appeared at the Feeding on Folly doorstep, we’ll just let that ship sail.
As for dear Thurber, I don’t know how many lantern beams I’ve thrown and I’m terrible at casting lances, but the folly I’ve witnessed has fed this blog well. Thank you for the inspiration, good sir.
For the record, this Sunday — April 1st — marks my 3rd year blogging.
So there, person who told me I couldn’t do it!
For those of us residing in WordPress Land, an exciting new development has been afoot. That being, the sudden increase in email followers subscribing to our sites, all using highly suspicious Outlook.com addresses. Addresses such as email@example.com, or, whyisitsodifficulttowriteacoherentemail@outlook, etc.
Full disclosure: I myself was pleased when I first received the email notifications and found nothing to be concerned about. I figured I’d finally found my tribe and was proving quite popular among Microsoft users who choose highly complicated email addresses.
It’s a narrow audience to be sure, but an audience nonetheless.
But then… but then folks, one of these mysterious Outlookers took the time to comment on my last post, the one on money. Not once, not twice, but THREE times!
Here’s the first comment my new friend Alex felt compelled to share:
I am now not certain where you are getting your info, but great topic. I must spend a while finding out much more or figuring out more. Thanks for great information I used to be in search of this information for my mission.
You’ll see that he opened with a bit of constructive criticism, pointing out that the source of my info was not clear. I found this odd as my very first sentence begins: “I was at Costco…” so, you know, Costco. But then I realized I didn’t give the address of Costco.
So there you go. Helpful.
Also, did you notice how Alex has a mission? I ask you, how many of you have a mission? Hmm?
I have to confess I did not respond to Alex’s comment in a timely manner, beings how the email was labeled “Please moderate” and it was the weekend. (The Feeding on Folly Comment Moderation Committee meets on Tuesdays.)
Did this stop Alex from commenting again? No! Using a different (though just as baffling) email address, three hours later, unable to contain himself, Alex wrote:
Wow, amazing blog structure! How lengthy have you been blogging for? you made blogging glance easy. The whole glance of your site is magnificent, let alone the content material!
My heart soared. His admiration for my blog, yea, the very glance of my blog, cannot be denied.
That’s when it occurred to me. This is what I’ve been lacking!
Tell me, faithful readers, those of you who have been following this blog and reading my posts and commenting here and there and — dare I say it? — beginning to take Feeding on Folly for granted? Tell me this: When have you ever commented on my structure? Or ever once thought to ask how lengthy I’ve been blogging for?
Honestly. I’m beginning to wonder if you care.
And as I mused on your neglectful ways, Alex commented again! From yet another Outlook email!
You actually make it appear so easy with your presentation however I find this matter to be actually something that I feel I might never understand. It sort of feels too complex and extremely vast for me. I’m having a look forward for your subsequent post, I will attempt to get the grasp of it!
Oh dear! Alex is confused! My post on money was too complex and he’s expecting me to write more on the subject. Poor Alex!
To rectify this situation, until the Moderation Committee convenes (last I heard Francine wasn’t sure she’d make it and she was in charge of bringing the donuts), I decided to showcase Alex’s comments and address him directly.
ALEX: What follows is a simplified explanation of my previous post.
Save More, Spend Less
I truly hope that takes care of things for you, my dearest Alex.
But what’s this?! Another comment has landed in our moderation queue, this time from Yvette:
I simply couldn’t go away your web site before suggesting that I extremely enjoyed the usual info a person supply on your visitors? Is going to be again steadily in order to inspect new posts
Oh… um… gosh. I see you’ve got a question in there, Yvette. I’d like to help you out, but I’ll need some time to figure out what it is you’re… um… asking?
Tell you what. As soon as I’m done here, I’ll start diagramming your sentences. I should have an answer for you in about a month or so.
As for the rest of you, you know what you need to do. Look over this presentation, comment on my structure, admire the glance of my blog. Show a gal a little support now and then, okay?
Also, write yourself up a mission. You could use one.
FYI to Fellow Bloggers: From one of our WordPress “Happiness Engineers” regarding these strange followers (taken from the forum linked at the top):
There is no way these spam followers can put your site, your content, or your private account data in any danger. (…) You can remove the spam followers under My Site ->People, but that won’t prevent new follows from coming in. You might also consider temporarily disabling email notifications of new followers in your account settings until we manage to get these blocked. (…) Please don’t email these addresses back – another potential reason for this is that someone is fishing for emails which they can then use to try and spam directly, and emailing them back will only provide them with your personal email address – something they cannot get hold of by merely following your site.