Yesterday, one of my friends, a fellow blogger, asked me if I was ever going to post something on a topic other than books. Since I'm trying to keep this a book blog, I told her no. Though I often get the urge to write postings about politics, sports, work and other generalities of my life, I have refused to do so. Until now it seems. But I'll let it end here. I know a lot of bloggers out there, and I'm still a neophyte, who want to become the next Julie Powell (author of Julie and Julia : 365 Days, 524 Recipes, 1 Tiny Apartment ) and have their blogs discovered and be asked to write a book. But this is a dream akin to one I had growing up and wanting to be a space cowboy. It isn't going to happen. And we know this. Still, we stay up late writing our blogs that only our friends read when they're bored at work. We still wake up early to send out an e-mail letting our family know we posted again. While cooking dinner we try to remember that quote from some book so we can post it and sound witty. Pseudo-intellectual am I. And for no other reason than biblio-vanity, I will post again. And again. For that I'm not sorry