The Pie Chest

Writing this blog can be terribly confusing.

What you poor, loyal-to-a-fault people must go through actually reading it is beyond me… I feel like I should bake you all a pie or something.

The point is that no matter what I choose to write about on a given day, I feel like I’m betraying/letting down/neglecting a certain wedge of my audience (Think pie chart, here… *chuckles*… Apparently “Pie” is the theme for today. I really don’t plan these things. They just sneak up on me like spot-on ninjas. Kind of frightening, actually.)

My brilliant cache of followers is very diverse, as I’m sure you can well imagine.

Some of you come for Chloe the Author.

Some of you stop by for Chloe the Odd.

Still another slice of you drop in for Chloe, Panic’s Whore.

Each readership is dear to me, and I try to keep everyone well entertained, informed and bolstered as best as I can. But choosing which blogging host to be that day can be, like I said, confusing.

Usually, I roll out of bed and grab the first hat my sleep-dumb mind can manage that day.

Sometimes, I choose poorly.

Sorry about that.

Sorry that you have no idea what’s going to be served up to you until you sit yourself down at my blogging table that day. Kind of unfair of me, I know.

But just like a Pumpkin, Cherry, Chocolate Pie would never, ever work, a blog addressing all of my followers would really be quite foul… And with “Author, Odd One and Panic’s Whore” already front and center on my business card, I really don’t have room to add “Careless Purveyor of Botulism” to my record.

What was the point of this post, you wonder?

I wonder too.

Until tomorrow…

Chloe