blog along with me

My REM this morning was about writing a blog and I think it was good but I don't remember it.  Perhaps it will  come to me. Blogging is so specific, for most people.  I just read of one this morning by a person who specializes in book lists, of which there are a plethora at this time of year.  Every magazine, newspaper and self-styled critic, plus every organization with a particular angle, all of them create a best-of-the-year list.  Lists are all very well in their way, and I love my lists, whether they're of groceries or tasks or thank-you letters to write - soon! (When I was a girl it was considered good luck to write your thank-yous  before the new year, another indication of how OLD I am.  Does anyone except a few of nature's aging gentlewomen write thank-you letters any more?.)  But lists can be daunting, especially book lists, as you realize yet again how many books you have NOT read.  I've said before  that I will defend to the death every person's right to write.  But so many of them get published these days.  They are IMpossible to keep  up with.  Some I can easily dismiss as not for me; others are harder and, in fact, guilt-inducing.   Therefore I will never read that blog listing book lists.  Too much!  A couple of organizations send out lists of petitions to sign, with an addendum that a donation - as little as a dollar - would be appreciated.  There aren't that many dollars to give, at least not in my purse, not right now. More guilt.  Oh, dear.  I wish I could remember the blog I dreamed about.