Heartbeat

This detail (from a junk sculpture of a sousaphone player in our backyard) seems to reveal an absence of a heart. Too bad the artist didn't think to add one.

I haven't blogged since Sunday. When my favorite bloggers don't blog daily, it irritates me. It isn't that I expect them to give their all and write a nice, well-crafted essay every day. It's just that once I've mentally invaded their lives on a circadian cycle I want to know that they are there. It's the difference between what I expect of my aunts (occasional calls and letters with updates) and my dad (speak with him every day). It's like the people who post (almost) every day are completing a welfare call with the world. After all, that's why I speak with my dad every day. If he weren't alone or had someone else I wouldn't do that. But most of these bloggers have someone else to be sure they wake up in the morning and haven't fallen (and can't get up).

One of the bloggers I like is John Bailey. He can be properly called a blogger since he's switched to a blogging site. For a few days he hasn't had the spirit for the well-crafted essay of the day and pictures. So he's simply posted what he calls 'bloglets.' He's just checking in. Just giving us a heart beat on the day.

So, yes, this is my heartbeat for my readers (about a thousand less than Mr. Bailey has). I'll be back and all the more clever. (Right.)