Sitemeter Whore

There are those nights when you really, really want to post. 'Cause you really, really want to let your readers know (the now four of them out there...) that you haven't forgotten them and that you do want to be a good website diva. But, you think, "well, shit. I've got not all that much to say."

I have become a sitemeter whore. Yes. I read how many of you check my blog each day. Not so many. Which is fine. Because those who do...you're worth 1823 regular readers. Here are some interesting things I've learned from those who do read. A whole lot of you come because I'm part of a web-ring of women preachers, that's your entry page. Welcome. Some of you read my blog because you know me, some of you lurk because you wonder about me. Welcome.

I do want to apologize, however, to whoever was searching on MSN for the words "porn," and "Christen." Somehow my website triggered what you typed, but probably not what you wanted...(I think it was that reference I made once about my gay male cats and their porn behaviors around 3 a.m. combined with my name that caused MSN search to pause on my site). I trust that you found what you were looking for in another place...good luck with that.

So, I screwed up today. At least, I think I screwed up. I was talking to J. the father on the phone shortly after a medical procedue that can only be called invasive in the extreme. In that phone call I was musing about what names R. and I would hypothetically call our future children...being all anal-retentive we know these things in advance, having probably decided them a few weeks into our engagement. Remember that I was all Xanaxed out, relaxed, wordy, uninhibited. I was telling my father words that I had initally planned on keeping a surprise (I am so, so not good at surprises), which was that I was hoping that if I ever had a boy to name him Grayson James (James being Jim the Father's birth name). But somehow, either in my Xanax induced stupor or in the inferior phone connection, my father heard, "I will name my child James." And thus, it was sort of a sad moment when in conversation this evening, when my father called to check up on me, Dad said, "I was so overwhelmed at your news that I forgot to ask what the baby's middle name might be if it were a boy." Um...shit. What a let-down. I feel like I'm a failure as a daughter now. But James is a great middle name, right? Woo-hoo...Grayson James. Perfect. Right?

My youngest girlie is herding my into the family room for family movie...so, I'll bid all four of my readers a fond goodnight. Thank you for listening to my random musings...