I know what you are doing. I do it too. You go around posting comments on other people's blogs hoping to get a link back to your own site and get you some Google juice. The difference in you and me is that I seek out blogs with similar topics to whatever blog I am trying to promote. The last I heard relevance is important to Google. When I visit a blog I read the post and if I can think of something intelligent to say I join in the conversation. You gotta have a lot of blogs in your feed reader to make this work.
I know this blog is beautiful and that I can write circles around Hemingway. Or maybe that is not true at all and you are a lousy judge of art. Either way, comments about my mini talents will get you deleted.
This is not a how-to blog unless I wake up in the morning and decide to write a how-to post. Questions about how I made such a wonderful blog or how I keep it spam free will be deleted. If you honestly want me to make you a wonderful blog such as this I will direct you to my contact form. Along those same lines, I kinda wish those wanna be professionals who e-mail me daily asking me if this website is living up to it's potential would dry up and blow away.
BTW, I know I gots some images not showing up on the site. Thanks.
This story is a little difficult to start. Perhaps the best thing to do would be to to tell you that for the most part I was terrified beyond my wits and then get on with it.
I was the manager of the local farmers' market and Sally came up to me. She was trying to pack up and leave when some guy put his ramps on her own personal table and tried to sell them. I went down there and told him he couldn't sell his ramps there. He went all off on Sally for telling, but he moved on.
For the uninitiated, ramps is a kind of onion. I have since heard tales that they will mess with your mind if you eat too many, but I dunno.
Anyway I moved on down and found the same guy in the center of the market still trying to sell his ramps. I told him if he wanted to sell ramps he would need to fill out the paperwork and get a qualified spot. I didn't even mention the $100 registration fee or the weekly spot rental. He told me he just wanted to sit and drink the coffee he had just bought. I told him if he wanted to do that he would need to sit in the coffee drinking area.
We went on a bit back and forth and finally I told him that I must maintain order at the market. He was a fit, camouflage wearing survivor kind of guy. I fully expected him to snap my neck at any moment. He asked me did I really understand the consequences of "keeping my order". I looked him in the eye and said "I don't think anybody is going to threaten me over a farmers market"
He said "You are right" and left.
I was so terrified I got my assistant to check if he was really leaving.
Meanwhile, vendors and the band had been trying to get my attention to see if they needed to call 911. Really kids, you don't need my permission.