Innie or an Outie

I am an innie guy when it comes to belly buttons. In fact, I find outies just plain mystifying. Everyone I know is an innie...at least I like to think they are. My wife, Jenn, she's an innie. My folks, they are innies. My sister, cousins, friends who I've swam with (swum with?) they are all innies. I am sure that I know some outies; my old friend from Colorado, I think he was an outie, he certainly behaved like an outie. A handful of second cousins, outies, but most of them are serving time. Yep, innie is where it's at.

Now that I think a little longer on this however, maybe outies are okay people. I guess they didn't really have a choice; you're either in our your out. They didn't choose to be outies; I didn't choose to be in. It's an inherited trait in a way. I wonder if there are innie moms that have outie babies? A recessive trait no doubt.

Blogs are like belly buttons. Some bloggers look out on the world and write it down; others hang their proverbial heads and stare at the lint that has gathered at the center of their tummies, ponder it and then scribble something down. (I know that lint gathers in innie belly buttons, not sure if it collects in outies?). I am hoping to strike a balance with this blog, a sort of belly with no button. A gut with no beginning. Strange to even imagine such a thing. Sure 'nough, this is the flat bellied blog, the potholeless potbelly ponderer, the smooth stomached statesmen, the... well enough of that.