This is my 100th post!

In celebration, a retrospective episode, a la TV sitcom.

Me: Wow, I can't believe we've been blogger and bloggee for almost five months now. Such good times we've had!

You, the Coveted Reader: Ha ha, yes, such good times. Why, I remember when you wrote about your brother's wedding...

Children aren't invited to the wedding, largely for safety issues -- it's all taking place outdoors, near a small cliff overlooking the ocean, and we don't want any young 'uns going over the edge. It's especially hazardous as there are shrubs at the edge, and when it gets dark you may not know the ground stops. I don't know what we're going to do about inebriated groomsmen trying to pee on the shrubs and taking a tumble. We may have to do headcounts every hour or so. Or at least a sweep of the shoreline the following morning.

Me: You have a good memory. Tell me more about what I've written.

You: Oh, sure. Here's a bit from one of your fictional works...

That Hun next door is the neighborhood bully. Nobody knows his real name; we all just call him “that Hun,” and he likes it that way. I guess he feels it gives him an aura of mystery. (Yeah, right, just like the stupid hat he wears makes him intimidating. Whatever. But if I’ve learned anything from Ollie, it’s to not make fun of stupid hats on aggressive people. It seems these conquering types are very sensitive about their headgear. But I digress.)

You: That one was particularly clever, I think.

Me: [Blushing.] Why, thank you. You didn't have to say that, you know.

You: But I mean it. You're the most bestest blogger ever.

Me: Shucks. [Pause.] You can tell me more about how clever I am.

You: Oh! Right. Yes. [Long silence.]

Me: Any day now.

You: Um, OK... OK, got it. This one didn't suck...

Here's what I know about wood: 1. It's brown. 2. They make trees out of it.

Me: Whew! I had no idea how clever I was. Sometimes you really need to hear it from someone else, you know? I can be quite critical of myself.

You: Obviously.

Me: [Taking bows and catching roses thrown by You. As far as I know, anyway, since I can neither see nor hear you.]

You: [Crickets chirping.]