Break out the chocolate. This is my one hundredth blog, all posted in less than eight months. Who says I’m not working? I’m just not getting paid.

What started out as an offhand thought about chronicling my retirement activities, has turned into something of an obsession.

My first challenge was the technical aspects of setting up a blog. I didn’t know any six-year-olds who could help me, so I had to figure it out myself, with help, one time, from a faceless technical assistant, in another country, on my provider’s chat line. I’m still trying (halfheartedly) to figure out how to make the blog’s email account work.

I had no idea whether anyone would be interested in reading my rambling reflections. I figured out early on, however, that I enjoyed writing them. As long as I amuse myself, and no animals are harmed in the process, what the heck (but thank you to my loyal followers, whose kind words I appreciate – if you blog in a forest and no one reads it, does it say anything?).

I’ve never had the intention of trying to monetize the site. So you won’t see any ads and you shouldn’t get any spam based on being a subscriber or visiting the site. This is not The Facebook.

I did consider the possibility that, someday, theaters might deem it worthwhile to give me free tickets, but there are three things standing in the way of that – they don’t know I exist; my readership is too small and I have no interest in marketing the site other than through casual conversation; and the theaters might prefer something other than the detour-heavy, top of consciousness, keep it short, look for the joke style I currently employ, even if I do try to spell their names right.

A nice side benefit of the blog is that I now have something to talk about when meeting people (given no job to complain about and no grandchildren).

Another benefit has been the increase in my activity due to the responsibility I feel to my readers to go out and find things to do, for the story value. It’s a sacrifice I’m willing to make, and better than sitting alone in your room. Thank you Elsie.