Blogging & Arizona Weather

I’ve been blogging for over five years and only now do I wonder about the word “blog.” It looks like an acronym for something but I can’t come up with any possibilities. What to do? Well, obviously, I should go on-line to see what Google or any other search engine would say: “In 1997 a weblog (web log) was shortened to “we blog” and then to just “blog.” And OED defines it thusly: “A frequently updated web site consisting of personal observations, excerpts from other sources, etc., typically run by a single person, and usually with hyperlinks to other sites; an online journal or diary.” And that seems to be exactly what I’m doing, keeping a journal not just for myself but for anyone out there who might stumble onto it and give it a look. I guess that word could just as easily be “biolog,” Or maybe “B-I overtly-log.” What I and other bloggers are doing is pretty overt, isn’t it? We’re all saying, “Look at me! Look at me! I’ll tell you anything about myself you want to know. I have no secrets. Just feel free to ask.” Whoa! Talk about opening oneself up to identity theft. I guess most bloggers don’t really care if someone steals their identity.

“Here I am. Just take whatever you want.” If that really happened, we’d all probably go screaming to the police to get ourselves back. Meanwhile, I continue to post stuff, both for my own enjoyment and maybe for my mysterious readers out there.

As I sit here looking out my back window, the arbor vitae trees on our back property line are still and majestic, the grapefruit and orange trees are just now starting to show blossoms, and the sun is out in a 75-degree temperature. Eat your hearts out, all you poor folks in the northern tier and northeast. I see night after night on the news that you guys are more than ass-deep in snow and shivering in record-low temperatures. I shiver for you, remembering all those mornings in upstate New York when I’d leave the house to drive to school and find my driveway piled high with snowfall and the stuff the plows had thrown on top of it. No thanks. It may get really hot here in July and August, but I don’t have to shovel it.