I put a lot of effort in this blog and that includes the titles. I want you to know I considered Who Knew A Blimp Could Type? and Who Knew A Blimp Could Type! before settling on the unpunctuated version.
This blimp business is brought about because yesterday I went to get the mail and I saw the Goodyear Blimp flying overhead (as opposed to flying underfoot, but I have a true appreciation for descriptive cliches, because I don't like to write description, and a little help is always appreciated).
Since I am now getting the hang of Twitter, I tweeted about this, and by golly, this morning I found that the Goodyear Blimp itself had tweeted back an explanation (it was going home after a visit to ESPN, which is a couple of hours away as the crow flies).
Anyway, I was delighted that the Goodyear Blimp had bothered to tweet back, so I tweeted my thanks, and by golly the sweet blimp tweeted me right back.
I tell you, we got quite the thing going. And if I don't lose some weight, we could wear matching outfits when I go get my Buxtehuder Bullen Award.
In addition to my romance with the Goodyear Blimp, I also have a book going. I'm on page 60, which would be more impressive (to me at least) if it weren't for the fact I'd already written about 30 of those 60 pages. All of which, except for page 1, I've had to rewrite, so it's almost like writing them from scratch. Or so I tell myself. I have another 30 or so already written pages, waiting to be slotted into place, and then I have to do actual original writing, which may or may not go faster but the smart money is on or not.
When I'm not writing, I'm dealing with mother stuff (I don't suppose you know where she put her keys) or friend stuff or waiting for Derek Jeter to get his 3000th hit stuff (I feel ever more wistful that he didn't get it at the game Todd Strasser and I went to), and now, of course, blimp stuff. All of which use up a lot of energy, most likely better spent on page 61 and all the pages thereafter.
Or maybe I should just ask the blimp to write the book, after it finds my mother's keys!
ETA a couple of hours later: I forgot to tell you I changed Mom reading The Great Gatsby for the 20th time to Mom reading To Kill A Mockingbird for the 20th time. Thanks to all of you who made suggestions on what books Mom would insist on having to keep civilization alive!