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Blog Community, Expert advice and insight into topics that matter most to you.

I am not a blogger. Expert advice and insight is not really my gig. If I'm the most expert advice you can find on almost any subject, I feel for you.

I set up this blog site when Gatehouse asked us to recruit some community bloggers for our site. I thought if I am going to have to show people how the software works I probably better set one up to work with.

Unfortunately, since I'm a staffer here my blog software works differently from that used by our community bloggers.

Scratch plan A.

We now have two very good bloggers contributing to our site in Barry Ragan with Ragan's Roosts, and Stafford County EMS Director Steve Moody with the EMS posts.

Neither of them really needed my “expert advice” on how to run their blogs. Steve was a veteran with considerable blogging experience, and Barry picked it up quickly.

With my expert advice no longer needed and my lack of time, or poor management of the time I have, I decided to delete the experimental, blah, blah, blah that was my blog.

Now how do I do that again?

After several attempts to remove it, and several minutes turning to hours trying to figure out how to remove the blog I gave up.

Now it appears, by default, I am a blogger.

Where's MY expert advice?

I'm not sure, but I know it's not removing features from a Zope publishing platform. Maybe I'll find something else I can enlighten the masses with.

For now check out our other experts' advice from Ragan's Roosts and the EMS, to fashion, movies and the perfect child on our online edition.

As I sit here banging away on my weekly column, a ding sound notifies me that I have mail.

I click on the prompt and open the umpteenth spam advertisement telling me for only $64.95, their “sweetheart package” will win me the undying love of my significant other.

I don’t have a significant other.

You might think being single I would view Valentine’s Day with some forlorn hope or even disdain, but I don’t. Valentine’s Days past have given me great appreciation for being unattached during the annual holiday for couples and significant others.

Don’t get me wrong, I am all for romantic cards, boxes of candy, and those helium-filled balloons. It’s just, with all the commercialism, and expectations associated with Feb. 14, it is a good time to be single.

Several years ago,  - when I wasn’t single - after making my obligatory purchases and preparing to drive out of the store’s parking lot, I saw a gentleman coming out of the store with an abundance of sweetheart merchandising.

Under on arm, he had a bulletin board-size card and an elaborate looking box of candy. With his other arm, he was leading one of those large heart-shaped balloons, the ones with the black accordion arms and legs that appear to walk as you pull them along.

It looked like he was walking a small child out of the store. That is until he cleared the door and the wind greeted the hapless pair.

A gust of wind ripped the balloon character out of his hand and launched it on a flight for freedom across the parking lot.

With the first gust, the balloon gained 10-feet in altitude, and put 20-yards between it and Mr. Romantic.

As the gust died down, the balloon lost altitude and returned to a slow trot across the parking lot. The hapless romantic was in hot pursuit and making up a ground, right up until the next gust of wind hit.

The man continued his futile quest across the parking lot, closing the gap to six or seven feet each time the wind died down only to have another gust hit and the escaping balloon would leap another 10-15 yards across the concrete.

At about the third leap, a wind gust ripped the large card from the hapless romantic’s burdened hand and propelled it on its own separate path to freedom.

Hapless hesitated for a moment as the card disappeared, then clutched his last remaining purchase tightly to his chest and took off after the fleeing balloon.

As the pair repeated their leapfrog chase across the lot as the balloon bounced and danced in the wind it almost looked like turning back occasionally to taunt its weary pursuer.

The last time I saw the two of them, Balloon Man was gaining altitude heading toward eight lanes of fast-moving traffic. Mr. Romantic was flailing along behind carrying the box of candy, and heading somewhat obliviously toward the same multiple lanes of fast-moving traffic.

Since that day, when Feb. 14 rolls around and I find myself with no one to send a card to I think about that hapless romantic.

I envision him laying on a hospital gurney somewhere offering his loved one a flattened and tattered box of chocolates with a tire track down the middle and clutching a fragment of an accordion-shaped black paper leg.

If it’s all the same to you, I think I will wait until the 15th to do my shopping. The candy is all 50 percent off, and the helium-filled balloons have just a little less fight in them.

I read in Ron. Moore’s recent column, One From the Road-Electronic Wife, how some of his electronic devices had taken on a somewhat “wifely” attitude. From the first time a car told me to “please fasten your seat belt,” to a recent online experience, I’ve long suspected my ex-wives have something to do with our many automated prompts and services.

My first wife was not exactly top of her class at the Beloit Youth Center for girls. I remember walking through a pasture with her one time, and she asked me “who made the paths for the cows to follow.”

She also had a real annoying habit when it came to reminders.

At one time or another, all of us have told a friend, co-worker of companion to remind you of something. If I told the first ex- Mrs. Spradley to remind me to pay a bill, or pick something up at the store tomorrow, as I turned to walk away she would call out “Do forget to blah, blah, blah, tomorrow.”

“Thanks for that timely reminder.”

Sunday I was poking around in my online banking account. Thinking how cool it would be if I had some money in there to take advantage of the many services they provide, when I stumbled across a nifty feature.

After setting up a future bill to be paid, there was a place to set up a reminder.

Cool, that’s handy.

I made an online payment, then set up a reminder to make an additional payment in two weeks.

I shut down the computer, went on about the rest of my day and pretty much forgot about it.

As I was going through my morning emails I saw an email for a bill reminder I thought I had just paid.
I looked at it a little closer and realized it wasn’t a late payment reminder from the collector. This one came from my bank?

I opened it up and there was a handy little message.

“Don’t forget to pay the vet clinic in two weeks.”

Until just then,I hadn’t thought about my first ex-wife in many years.

Thanks for that timely reminder.

Terry Spradley is the editor of the St. John News,  his e-mail is sjnewseditor@embarqmail.com