I'm sending off the latest batch of Blog posts to my mother and grandmother. This bunch actually runs from June 2 until this post, so it's been a while. I hadn't wanted to let it go so long. Mostly because the file is now some 36 pages. The paper is not an issue I have a ton of that lying around. It's the ink. I don't know if I have enough ink to print off 72 pages.
Sorry mom, you might have to borrow the end of grandma's copy.
The cartridge was brand new as I printed out the last batch, a whopping 30 pages because I included the Michael Crichton speech I link to in one post. I have no idea if one cartridge can print 130+ pages in total. I'm sure you're all quite curious now, but you'll have to wait until tomorrow to find out! That is, if I blog tomorrow.
The reason I mention this stuff is I have been thinking about my grandmother and the stuff I have been sending her and all I can think is, "What must she think of me now?"
Some of the stuff I insinuate or flat out discuss is not something one discusses with their grandmother. Many other references she couldn't possibly understand. I doubt many but the most elite friends of mine catch them all. You know who you are. Hopefully, because I don't.
Anyway, I guess I'll find out at Christmas time when I go back to that boring desolate land where I grew up.
Since I tend to think a little more broadly and abstractly, what would someone I did not know at all think of me if they simply started reading my blog from the beginning until now? How would they describe me? Arrogant, pedantic, elitist all spring to mind. Ribald, dismissive, scornful would probably do the trick. I guess all that would even be correct.
Imagine a grandparent thinking all that of you.
I'll tell you what it's like in January.