There are a handful of people who actually have the URL for this site. I know they show up periodically and read because they tell me so.
I often email entries to the spouse because they make him laugh.
I will very rarely leave a comment on another blog, and a few people find their way here that way.
Then there are the rest of you. (!)
You get here through Google.
I love Google. As someone who writes and researchs for a living, Google is very spiffy. When I was ToxGirl, I lived and died by Google and PubMed. It can be a wonderful, if periodically irksome, periodically mysterious, tool.
But I *CANNOT* believe what some of you are googling that ends up sending you here.
Ladies and gentleman (especially the one who came in from Germany, and I am so not repeating your search, and you should be really glad of that, and yes, I know I used the word "masochistic," but if you're an Angels fan, it follows that you are a masochist), this a pretty G-rated blog. A family-oriented blog even. It has to be because my teenage son likes to read it over my shoulder while I'm writing it. He is very damn nosey.
I also tend to be a pretty G-rated person...although I've been known to wax poetic to my friends about paint-on pants (as well as the wearer of the paint-on pants...though in my defense, I'd have to say I've been pretty good at keeping a lid on it for the last 3 months or so).
*wanders off into a momentary reverie*
Anyway, you, O Reader with the IP in Wichita or thereabouts...google.ca, huh? Wow, that was some search. I am disturbed by the thought that you might be a foot fetishist, but I'm sorry you caught me on a really cranky day that day.
Social Security Administration, looking for the story behind "Strawberry Letter #23." I hope that was on your lunch and not my tax dollars.
Gentle readers (except you, Germany!) who wander in from Google, don't let me dissuade you from wandering. Just be aware that while I know the audience is listening, so the writer is also watching. I like a level playing field.
And confidential to my dear one who asked why I wasn't saying more about my summer travels: this is why! One four-letter word (minds out of the gutter, thank you!), and I'd have all kinds of traffic I don't want.
Go listen to some music: "All the Things She Said" from the album Once Upon a Time by Simple Minds.