One time when I was a kid, our family went camping. We went camping many times, you know. This time it might have been Shaver Lake, south of Yosemite and northeast of Fresno. I’m guessing. Anyway, the campground was full when we arrived and the first night they put us in Overflow, a part of the campground set aside for just such times. It was more of a dirt parking lot than a campsite; those closer to the lake were beautiful.
It was just one night, we made a happy family adventure of it, and Overflow was our term – for years – for any situation in which a person or thing was exiled and expected to wait off to one side. If your food wasn’t ready for take-out as promised, and you had to stand and wait while the cashier rang up other customers, you were in Overflow. You get it.

I thought about that today because I used to have another blog a different URL, and since I moved Metaphor to this address, all those posts – 1783 – have been waiting in Overflow, at a defunct address. I finally got around to importing them, and Metaphor now has all 2262 I’ve made since I started it in 2003.

Excited about being able to browse all that good old stuff? I knew you would be.

Anyway, here’s hoping you always get the main campground, close to the lake, close enough but not too close to the bathrooms.