The Accordion Guy says he and a buddy decided that their lives are on TV in some other universe, so they try to live in such a way that their ratings won't go down.

Know someone whose 20th High school reunion is coming up. When it asked for “profession” he seriously considered putting in “semi-professional killer.” I'm fairly sure it was a joke. But would the people who read it, if he'd done it?

Someone talked about writing a blog in which you tell what other people are thinking as you wander through your life. I told them I'd “been there, done that.” There was a time when I could hear other people around me, not all of them, but some, and I knew what they were thinking. I was never wrong, but my psychologist said I could be demon possessed. Freaked me out. Not because I thought it was true, but because they apparently thought so.

I just talk on my blog. I talk about what I am thinking about. But it doesn't have to be that way. I could tell “more than the truth” where you stretch it just 10% and it sounds so much more interesting. Sometimes all it takes is saying it in the right way. You don't even have to stretch it then.

My 20th high school reunion is long past. No one goes to their 30th, that I've ever heard of. I mean, then we're all starting to get really old. What would be the weirdest thing you could write truthfully on the biography page about yourself?

Is that what makes life more interesting?

Or is it the everyday stuff being good? I'd rather have my life, simplistic though it must sound, with my rounds of teaching and my kids and my random date with my hubby, than an “interesting” life where everything is crazy.

Have some friends whose neighbors are secret service. They don't talk much. They don't visit. They hide in their house, when they're home. They get their mail in their car and drive into their garage. They're lurking in the neighborhood more than living. It makes the street more interesting, but the folks who talk and share and hang out at Skeeter's for dinner are the ones who make it fun.