Back in the business of blogging
I have not been active in this little chunk of the blogosphere. But I saw an old friend's new blog today and well, it was really good. And I thought, maybe I should check out that blog o' mine again. (Should I tell you my friend's blog address? It's a really nice blog. With lots of nice photos. It really puts this fledging blog to shame...)
(Okay, I give in. Check her out at www.allyanne.typepad.com/)
It's snowing blankets here in good old southwestern PA. I visited my brother in Tucson, AZ around Thanksgiving. It's generally very warm and sunny there. And flat. Apart from the mountains that ring the city, of course. Here, it is generally grey and hilly. And the weather is all over the map. Literally. Summers can feel like the Deep South, and winters take a page straight out of New England. I don't necessarily like the extremes, but I do like the variety. I don't think I could live in the desert. All those creepy Saguaro cacti staring me down.
Old England, on the other hand, is quite temperate. The weather, like the people, stays on a rather even keel in Britain. I lived there for a year about seven years ago. I find myself telling a lot of "when I was in England" stories and then worrying that I sound pompous and snobbish. I don't mean to. It's just that living in a foreign country was one of the best experiences of my life. And I tend to talk about my best (and some of my worst) experiences. I like to tell stories. People tell me that I tell good stories -- which is good, since I'm a writer. (I'm also considering taking up the art of professional oral storytelling.) But telling a lot of stories, and having a flair for the theatrical, well -- it worries me. I never know if I'm hogging the spotlight, looking desperate to be the life of the party. When do I stop being entertaining and start annoying the tears out of my audience --um, I mean my friends/coworkers/etc.? Sometimes I ask people, but would anyone really tell me the truth?
This blog is all over the place -- like the weather.
And now it's time to say goodnight. My wonderful husband has just come in from out the cold and I haven't seen him since this morning.
(Okay, I give in. Check her out at www.allyanne.typepad.com/)
It's snowing blankets here in good old southwestern PA. I visited my brother in Tucson, AZ around Thanksgiving. It's generally very warm and sunny there. And flat. Apart from the mountains that ring the city, of course. Here, it is generally grey and hilly. And the weather is all over the map. Literally. Summers can feel like the Deep South, and winters take a page straight out of New England. I don't necessarily like the extremes, but I do like the variety. I don't think I could live in the desert. All those creepy Saguaro cacti staring me down.
Old England, on the other hand, is quite temperate. The weather, like the people, stays on a rather even keel in Britain. I lived there for a year about seven years ago. I find myself telling a lot of "when I was in England" stories and then worrying that I sound pompous and snobbish. I don't mean to. It's just that living in a foreign country was one of the best experiences of my life. And I tend to talk about my best (and some of my worst) experiences. I like to tell stories. People tell me that I tell good stories -- which is good, since I'm a writer. (I'm also considering taking up the art of professional oral storytelling.) But telling a lot of stories, and having a flair for the theatrical, well -- it worries me. I never know if I'm hogging the spotlight, looking desperate to be the life of the party. When do I stop being entertaining and start annoying the tears out of my audience --um, I mean my friends/coworkers/etc.? Sometimes I ask people, but would anyone really tell me the truth?
This blog is all over the place -- like the weather.
And now it's time to say goodnight. My wonderful husband has just come in from out the cold and I haven't seen him since this morning.
| 10:06 PM
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