Oceans of Knowledge

Apparently there are bloggers out there who attract way more than eighteen official followers and a smattering of "unofficial" followers who are too embarrassed to admit to a daily "Eagle" fix.

The key, as far as I can tell, is to write about something useful. Like recipes. Or how to recreate ultra expensive designer fashions in the comfort of your own living room for mere pennies. People eat that shit up.

My problem, however, is I don't have a creative bone in my body, and I only like to be around food if I'm eating it, so basically, I got nothin'! Kind of depressing to be almost fifty two years old and realize I have nothing of value to pass on to others -- just my sometimes inappropriately public private musings about life and love and ordinary stuff that happens every day. I can see my tombstone now: "Here lies Jill Ocean. She was here for a while, and now she's not. Big deal. BFD."

As is often the case, just when I feel I am about to hit rock bottom, some higher power intervenes to start lugging me out of the sink hole, and this morning that's exactly what happened. An old friend appeared while I was mourning my pitiful epitaph and asked me if I would take her shopping one day, because she loves the way I dress. She didn't ask me how to make anything herself or how to cook something. She asked me to take her shopping -- something I am fully capable of doing as long as my credit card doesn't get cancelled.

I was so flattered, I pretty much divulged all my secrets right there in Starbucks. There are only three colors worth wearing, I told her. Black, gray, and white. And clothing should always be expandable, so you can eat more. And buy boots, lots of boots. There you have it. I wonder if folks would pay me good money for that advice.

Who knows, with that little teaser maybe I'll at least get a few more blog followers. Until, that is, they figure out I got nothin' else useful to say.