Authorial intent

Last night, Dad the Emeritus Historian of Graeco-Roman Egypt asked me if I listed this blog on my CV.  Well, no, I responded.  Leaving to one side the occasional guest appearances by cats, annoyed Vulcan captains, and GLADOS, I've never considered anything I've written here to be more than notes towards a final scholarly product.    As I pointed out here, for example, a post on Walter Scott's The Monastery had to be entirely revised, reworked, and just re-ed in general before it could function in the context of my book chapter.  My blog prose tends to drown in parentheticals, qualifiers, and other stylistic tics that require stern discipline; moreover, I frequently...ah...express my opinion of certain texts more strenuously than is generally considered appropriate in academic discourse.  If I ever get around to writing an article about Florence; Or, the Aspirant (because, believe it or not, it does have literary-historical interest, if your literary-historical interests run to my kind of thing),  it's highly unlikely that I will spend the entire essay bewailing my plight.  Granted, one's tolerance becomes strained after spending too much time with angelic evangelical children who address other characters as "Mr. Jew," but articles are not the place to gnash one's teeth over a self-inflicted burden.  That's what you use blogs for, no? 

But this judgment call is getting a little tricky, because some of my blog posts are now showing up as citations in scholarly journals.  In particular, the Rules for Writing Neo-Victorian Novels, which have even put in an appearance on someone's syllabus.  Obviously, being cited is a Good Thing (and looks nice on one's annual report), but...if I'm going to note that my post is turning up in the scholarly literature, does that mean that I should also note the blog as well? Even with cats, annoyed Vulcan captains, and Glados?