Why did I start writing this thing, anyway? (For those who have forgotten, I began on January 6th.) I have no idea, beyond wanting to hear myself blather. I certainly didn't imagine a readership. And I don't have much of one, in any event.
Having said that, there are a few readers out there. I'm not always aware of them, but if I think about it, I realize there's an audience. One way to find out about that audience is to attend a family get-together, as I did yesterday afternoon (pictures here), and eavesdrop on the conversation from some of my "fans." Another way is to do what I did last night after the World Series had ended, turning the blog into an all-black affair suitable for mourning. I heard from enough people to know that the blackness made its point.
So how many people *do* read this semi-regularly? I don't know, let me count ... probably half-a-dozen everyday readers, another half-a-dozen occasional readers and/or lurkers.
Whatever. I'm back, after a 24-hour vacation. I just finished watching Y Tu Mamá Tambien ... I give it the rare ten on a scale of ten, and will try to remember to write something about it in the next day or so. Thanks to everyone for the messages of sympathy.