A New Type Of Post Named After Tiny Pasta

If you ask any Italian what they were fed as kids when their stomachs were upset or they weren't feeling well, their answer would be, “pastina.” Literally translated as “little pasta,” it came in a multitude of small sizes and shapes, and was mixed mostly into chicken broth to add something solid, yet light enough to not make a kid want to throw up. (For those of you who need visuals, please consult the technical chart I’ve included at the left.)

Now, while I’ve never been actually told that the length of my posts has made readers sick or nauseous, it has been subtly suggested that perhaps posting shorter stuff now and then, might increase the readership of this Blog. Being a former teacher, I am familiar with the statistics regarding people with A.D.H.D. But it never entered my mind when I started sharing my thoughts, that I needed to show sensitivity to the percentage among you with either shorter attention spans, or daily schedules which allow only two minute blocks of reading time and nothing more.

So, beginning today I am determined to become an equal access blogger. That means I will soon begin including short, one paragraph posts which should take no longer than thirty seconds or so to read, a cinch for even the most easily distracted souls who might stop by during their meanderings through Blogdom.

Furthermore, as with all things new and unprecedented, I shall give these diminutive writings a formal name. They shall be forever known as “Postinas”… tiny posts which when added to your literary soup, are short and light enough to keep you from feeling the need to barf, either literally or figuratively.

Now, be forewarned. I have seldom, if ever, written anything that short since I first began putting down my thoughts on paper back in Elementary School. And it’s not gotten much better through the years. Even things such as notes I wrote explaining my own kids’ absences from school, always seemed to evolve into mini dissertations. And, as one college professor candidly critiqued in the margin of one of my assignments, “Good, sincere writing, however the one weakness is your liking for big, inappropriate words in simple places.” That red ink comment was penned in January, 1967, so do the math.

Everything said, then, I’ll give this “Postina” thing my best shot, and obviously only time will tell. I mean, nothing ventured, nothing gained, right? Maybe an old dog can learn new tricks. Then, if all goes well, my next goal will be to eliminate clichés.