Looking out my backdoor: The 'real' meaning of life and other silliness

When I sit at a blank page with no idea what I want to write, I go through who, what, when, where and how of the past several days to see what might pop up and out.

My life is simple. I read a lot. A lot. I read the phrase, “explains the real meaning of life,” in a book blurb. Blurbs operate as the worm on the end of the line that is meant to hook me into choosing to read that book.

“Real meaning?” I kid you not. Is there other meaning of life? Several meanings? Isn’t life simply life? Of course, I’d not choose that book, just on the basis of the blurb alone. But I laughed. It is funny.

A week...