Fan Mail

I know a handful of people who read this blog. Okay, make that three. I know The Parents and The Brother read it everyday and I am sure part of their motivation is to see what The Rev. and I are doing and the other part is to make sure I haven't done something that would cause The Rev. to have to take a call to South America. Don't worry, his Spanish is not that good yet. As you can see from the comments left by my faithful readers, I have no idea who is reading it and who is not. I guess if you are reading it you fall into one of three categories:

a. You hate it and don't want to dignify anything with a response.
b. You love it, but think leaving a comment is like clapping in church or saying "Amen" aloud when the preacher says something you like. The Lutherans I know just don't do that.
c. You are indifferent, and are like people I call pew warmers. You show up on Sunday but that's about it. Hey, I'm not pointing fingers, because I haven't been warming any pews lately, but The Rev. keeps pretty close tabs on me and is ready with a sermon if I need one. Don't worry, I'm not in Tijuana doing tequila shots with my amigos.

Today I got my first piece fan mail. I was actually pretty excited, even if I know the person (Hi, Turbo!), and I have no idea how he found out about it. He asked me a few questions, but his email was unclear as to whether he wanted a personal response or if I should answer his questions in a public forum. I'll answer one of them, because I can't remember the other ones. Again, welcome to my glass house, people. I have nothing to hide.

What am I watching on t.v.? This is actually a pretty good question, because t.v. watching for me is like going on a diet. I start out with pretty good intentions of watching a whole show, but I fall asleep before I can finish it. I am also horribly addicted to what The Rev. calls "train wreck television." He is so esoteric with his "24" and "CSIs." I love Kathy Griffin's reality t.v. show. "Blowout" with the L.A. hairdresser Jonathan, and I even watched with perverse fascination the VH1 reality show with Flava Flav and his harem of women. I know, I know. I have to make myself write everyday to keep my brain from rotting out of my head.

One other little tidbit before I go. I had the distinct pleasure of riding in the $5 dollar car the other day. It's amazing the habits we get develop when we ride in more expensive means of transportation. My hand automatically went to turn on the radio, but I forgot one wasn't there. Nor was there an air conditioner to turn on. BUT, it does have a sunroof.