THE PURPOSE OF MY BLOGG#3

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So today I am going to talk to you dear readers about the purpose of my blogg. and if there ever was a blogg with no purpose this is it .A few years ago I purchased my first computer and started to do things with it like emailing for instance to my friends. Now I used to be a prodigious  letter writer in illigible longhand.which I inflicted on my friends but now I had a new way of communicating.What an ecrutiating thing it was! It took hours to print an email.I would type a sentence and then my irasible elusive cursor that you have already met would jump in and wipe it half out or worse,scramble it beyond comprehension.My emails got shorter and shorter, mere blurps  of”hw re u am fine”kind. In fact I think I’m sure I.  became the forerunner of texting. At this time, my darling practicle daughter emailed me a link to download a typing manual which promptly disappeared  by way Of my clicking on  the dismissive delete button (I don’t know how to download), Then another friend who I admire suggested I take a typing course.I had a flashback to grade ten when I enrolled in atyping course and spent long boring hours trying to type with the correct method (I failed the course but did manage to perfect a mean male profile complete with mustache using the #7 key).I could,of course,have spent hours copying long oieces out of newspapers. But why should I do that when I have my own vivid imagination?The oroblem with that is Ineed to write to someone. Of course I could always revert back to my grade ten course and type over and over that thing about the grey fox jumping over or under the fence.But how tedious is that?That is not me! Oh no not me.I want to plunk down my glas of whiskey on the desk,thrust my fingers impatiently through my hair,roll up my shirtsleeves,loosen my tie,hunch over my trusty keyboard,flex my fingers and withtwo fingers hunt and peck my way furiously through my clever article in time to meet the”deadline”Not for me the prissy starched white blouse,the  modest slim pencil skirt-I wish-,the mocha hued stockings and feet planted maidenly in their Cubanheeled shoeswith my glasses perched on my pert little nose!No not me! I want to”toil and riol or is rail and flail” pounding on my trusty ole typewriter . That is what the romantic aura of typing means to me,a long romantic tradition of great words strung together,no grey foxes in my version. That is why I started my Laurie’s essays,and my blogg so I can type furiously on right into Who knows?-THE GREAT QUINTESSENTIAL CANADIAN NOVEL?You my dear readers are vital to my quest to typing perfection as I can’t write to a vacuum and I am very grateful to you. And now I simply most close before this very long and tedius blogg turns into the great Canadian novel-yikes- so I bid you goodnight.