I've been doing stuff

My throats all better. Praise God! But that was quite a while ago. As I said, I've been doing stuff. I always say there is two different kinds of things you can do:
1. Update your blog.
2. Not update your blog.
For some people there is only one thing that they can do, namely: not update your blog. Oh, the sad life of those who don't have a blog. How uninteresting. How boring. Only to have one thing to do in life. No choices and no options.
"Hey Dad, you wanna' do something?"
"Let's do something other than updating our blog son, because we don't have one."
"Ah Dad, that's what we did yesterday."
"Well I'm sorry son, but that's the only thing we can do."
"Dad, isn't there anything else we can do?"
"No son, we have to take responsibility for our actions and not update our blog."
Maybe it's not that bad. Seeing as how I don't hardly ever update my blog. But today I will make a reform! You will no longer be left with no excellent reading material! Starting today I will update my blog every day for the past three weeks!

God bless everyone of you(even those that can only not update their blogs.).

Here is a story. Sorry its taken so long in the making. Hope you enjoy!

As I have been considering the implications of my recent events and I have come to realize that they may sustain far more significance than I first anticipated. I now understand (after relating my account to several individuals) how they could possibly hold a larger interest to my readers.
The day before last I was consulting a certain colleague about a small business transaction concerning the insurance company I represent. I had met him at his own office, which was located on the south corner of Harmond St. and Leppis St. He walked me out to the door and we continued to talk on the porch. I turned around to say “good day” when I inadvertently stepped directly against a baby buggy. The young mother pushing the buggy was quite startled. I quickly apologize for my inattention and reached down for a doll that had tumbled out of the sleeping infant’s hand. To my dismay, the porcelain hand of the doll had cracked. Seeing the incident, my colleague offered to get some glue, which he had in his office. The mother declined, saying she that she truly must be on her way. Saying a parting word of compunction to her, I continued to my next matter.
I caught the next trolley and continued to Crawlin, where I had a matter of consequence to discuss with a client. Upon leaving the engagement I was surprised to note that it was lunchtime. I soon had another appointment so I consequently decided upon a small establishment across the street. I do not remember the restaurant’s name, but it looked reputable. I walked in alongside an elderly lady with (I presume) her granddaughter. I opened the door for them both. The kindly grandmother told her granddaughter to say “Thank-you”, as she had done herself. I sat down in a booth and ordered a sandwich when I glanced over at the grandmother and child who sat next to a window. I smiled as the girl gently pulled a doll out of her coat and fondled it lovingly.
I was suddenly surprised by the remarkable similarity between this doll and the other I encountered this morning. I studied it intently for the remainder of my meal. I could not be definite if it was the same doll but the clothes looked exceedingly similar. I can’t recall if the former doll’s hair was black or not.
I had finished my sandwich before I looked at the time. I was nearly late for my next appointment. I hurriedly paid and stepped out the door. Still curious, I looked in the window at the doll. It’s right hand was cracked! I was unquestionably disappointed that I did not have the time to ask them about the doll, but I had to make the meeting.
While on the trolley I wondered with great curiosity about the reappearing doll. I couldn’t possibly imagine it being two different dolls, for they were fractured in the precise same place. The young mother must have imparted the doll to the little girl. But how queer for me to see it again!
I got off at the desired station and wedged through the mass (it was overly crowded at this time). Much to my consternation a distance away I spotted a young girl holding the hand of her father endeavoring to get aboard the trolley. This typically would give me no cause for alarm, but enclosed in her arm was a doll.
With a broken right hand!
I was so taken with surprise that I immediately pressed after them. The distance between us grew larger as they neared the entry door. I hallooed to them and waved my arms, but their backs were turned to me. They presently boarded and I was still a distance away. The trolley slowly picked up speed and I was left behind.
I walked dejectedly towards the office, sorry that I didn’t get to question the owners of the inexplicable doll.
I confess that all during my business discussion I concerned myself with the present mystery. I was glad to be outdoors after the long tiresome meeting. I tried to think of a possible explanation with no avail. Tenement buildings were alongside me as I silently walked, staring at the ground. Ahead a baby started crying. I look up. A mother, sitting on her front steps, was mending clothes as her baby sat upon the ground. Trying to console him she gave him a small pat. He continued to howl. She quickly jumped up and went inside, leaving him outside. Shortly she returned with a doll.
A doll whose face and hand were dreadfully familiar. The dress was faded and torn, but it contained the same pattern. I rushed up and impetuously snatched the doll from the baby which set him crying all the louder. The indignant mother seized it herself, but I continued to hold on.
“Give that right here.” She barked.
“But I must have it.” I stammered back.
“You ‘shant have it” She said defiantly clutching on.
“You must understan…” I started, but she jerked it from me, deftly picked up her screaming child, marched inside, and slammed the door with a glare. I too tramped up the stairs, I heard the deadbolt lock as the baby sustained his bawling.
“Go away!” she said.
I was about to reiterate my needs, when I noticed several neighbors watching me intently. Instead I gave a quiet apology with an even quieter remark, and nonchalantly stepped over the neglected mending back to the sidewalk.
I tried to act aloof and indifferent as I strolled to the corner, conscious of the many eyes glaring at my back. It would necessitate an interval before I would be able to inquire about this phantom doll. This matter was too extraordinary for me to simply disregard and abandon. How this doll could possibly entertain so many hands and in such diverse places was unreservedly bizarre. I doubt as though our city has been abruptly besieged by a troop of dolls possessing exceptionally feeble thumb and forefingers.
Visiting a nearby newsstand I acquired the traditional cover of disguise and I started feeling quite accomplished when I partook in the act of pulling my hat down a modest amount. I then inconspicuously ambled back to the corner and looked about. After a few minutes the window shade shivered slightly. Presently the door cracked open and the woman snatched up her mending and returned inside after quickly looking up the street towards me. Upon which I promptly raised the newspaper.
Staring me in the face was the doll! Her picture was in the newspaper.
She was sitting with other dolls and toys apparently for some toy store. I read further to ascertain that a certain woman’s society was holding a fundraiser benefit in support of a variety of charities. They were selling many miscellaneous items including: cooking equipment, lamps, and children’s playthings. I searched the paper for where the event was to be held.
Today!
I hurriedly looked up the address and leaped onto a trolley with the paper flailing behind me.
Upon arriving at the building I was greeted by an elderly lady (a member of the woman’s society I assume). She ushered me into another room which contained the articles for retail.
There were many people milling around looking for wares. Some were placing additional merchandise on the tables for selling. I searched for the toys and moreover for my personal phantom.
I couldn’t imagine finding the doll, what with all the escaping it had already done. This strange porcelain creature had caused me much consternation and I felt it my duty to uncover it’s history.
An older lady was putting more wooden toys on the shelf as I looked around. I showed her the picture and asked if she had seen the doll.
“If I can remember correctly, there is some dolls on that shelf there.” She said pointing to a shelf.
“Well yes,” I said “ You see I was looking for a particular doll.”
“Oh.” She said “Well let me see it again.”
“Yes, this one here.” I directed, indicating the specific doll.
She adjusted her glasses and peered at the picture.
“I’m sorry sir, I haven’t seen it.” She looked up.
I eventually asked all the society members but none recalled the doll. Some contemplated that it must have been sold earlier. Others thought it could have been taken back by the donor. Where this doll came from I do not know, but I know that I have often wondered about it from that day hence.

Wow, that was kinda' long.