It is a cold Friday. There was a dusting of snow overnight. In a rare twist, I have a conference call this morning and a meeting this afternoon. I will have to turn in my salesman card, working on a Friday afternoon. Hah! I wish the stereotype was true, I usually work on Friday afternoons.
In other news, there isn't any. I am in a rut, or perhaps a creative void. Putting electronic "pen" to the screen has been a challenge. Do I skip blogging altogether? Do I post a series of short blatherings repeating "I got nothing" in various ungrammatical ways? Should I haunt the archives and toss up a series of reruns to rebore you (the first time wasn't enough I guess). In desperation I have opted for all of the above.
But I did tell you about my weather this morning. There is that. About three hundred years ago I worked as a librarian in a small town of about 1,500 people. One of my elderly patrons told me she always notes the date and weather on the lid of the oatmeal can whenever she fixes oatmeal. I found that a strange habit, especially when she said she does not keep the cans when they are empty. I guess this blog is my oatmeal can.