We’ve gotten to that part of October. The sky outside is postcard blue, and the air outside feels so cold and clean you wish you could bathe in it. But I’m still glad I’m not in the high school marching band that I hear. Apparently, they have to practice the walking-and-chewing-gum thing — marching and playing at the same time. I hear them several streets away, making slow progress from one side of the block to the other.

I can’t hear what music they’re playing — I’m not close enough for that. All I hear is the little percussive riff that seems to be all they ever need:
Boom-boom
tikki-tikki-tikki-tikki-tikki-tikki

Boom-boom
tikki-tikki … etc.

I assume that sooner or later the rest of them have to actually play something, but for right now the drummers are probably the only ones keeping warm. I glance over at the dog to see how she’s handling it, and she seems fine with it. A month or so ago it would’ve been enough to make her push her nose up to the window and whine-bark-growl at the bad noise until it went away. But she’s found a sunspot and she just opens her eyes blearily at me. That’s good, because I need her to be less hyper than usual today. I’ve got things to attend to.

The blog being the first. Last night, Greg said those words to me that no blogger wants to hear: “I checked your blog stats, and your readership is down.” Oh no! I’ve been busy. I’ve had to work. Aren’t there archives full of blather for everyone to pore over while I finish paying for this month’s DSL? Heck, there are single entries that are so dang long that I haven’t even finished reading them myself.

And it’s not just the time. I’ve felt a little less inclined than usual to think out loud (as it were). And I get the impression that that’s not just me. The blogosphere seems to be changing a little, to judge from the little subset I know: the Ortho-blogosphere. Some people are in it for the long haul. Some had life issues that needed too much time to allow it. Some are happy just using it to chat with friends. Some have dropped out. Some need it. Some don’t need it. Some would like to goof around with it more but don’t think they have anything to say.

As I said, I wouldn’t be surprised if that subset represents the way the blogosphere overall is trending. That’s based on no real evidence at all (whee! don’t we love the blogosphere for unsubstantiated info?), just a thought that it seems like the way it would’ve had to go. Just about everyone went through some stage of writing journals at some point. The bookstores started offering really nifty ones, and people bought them for themselves or gave them as Christmas presents. You can tell from looking at that section of the bookstores now how things have fallen out. There are two sections: one full of light, bright, zany little journals with helpful titles like My Journey or Going on Vacation!, and one with no-nonsense major-sized journals with bookmarks. The first kind has quotes and pictures on every page so the thing is half-filled in already; the second is bare and imminently practical. So you have those who want it to be a candy bar and those who need it as basic nutrition. And a lot of people, of course, who aren’t doing it at all.

That’s how things tend to go. It takes both time and interest to blog. Some would like it to also require talent, but I like that it doesn’t. And that’s not just because if it required talent, I might not make the cut, though I’m sure that’s a factor. But in my limited dalliance with the creative world I feel that most people are too worried about their perceived lack of talent. They do have things to say, but they think they don’t because they’re not poets and songwriters. Phooey on that. Poets and songwriters are boring; people are interesting. You only need to write well enough to communicate what you want to say. If what you want to say is that you have a good recipe for strogonoff, you don’t have to be Dostoyevsky. And who’s to say that you won’t be improving the world in a small way with that contribution? I wish I hadn’t said that. Now I want strogonoff.

I’ve indulged in all this thought while I’ve been listening to the marching band get fainter. And now the dog is getting a little impatient with me. The sunspot has moved over to the wall where it’s no earthly good to her, and so she’s now up and has the nose to the window in her prescribed nose-to-window place. When she doesn’t see anything she paces and tries to find a new spot, or plants herself momentarily with a bored sigh. Or just turns to look at me because we’re not supposed to still be up here. (No person is more anal about attention to routine than a dog.) We never stay up here this long and we need to be downstairs like we always are. And that needs to happen now.

So I’ll go downstairs and see if I can’t get out the two blog entries I have floating in my head. I’ll see if I can’t do it fast enough to give me time to finish the client’s changes on their study guide and answer e-mails and go over the upcoming proposals with Greg. And I’ll see if I can’t do it before the dog loses her mind and starts nudging me downstairs with her nose.

It’s true. We have Restless Dog Syndrome. (Da BOOM BOOM.)