Here it is Thursday and I have no “leading”
for a post. Oh, I have plenty of resources, but everything’s sorta’ glommed
together right now.
There’s my “wall of men”--folks I like to look at and
remember when I sit down at the computer—Ed Asner, Neil Diamond, Josh Shaw, Ray
and Todd and James and Jonathan, Kid Billy. I'll include Bill W. when I print out his
picture. Paul Newman and Michael Douglas and Lou Rawls and Ed Ames -- when I find photos.
Then, I could write about my first experience at
picking up trash that either was dropped on my hill or that blew out of an open
garbage hauler. Of all the stuff—checks, badges, Christmas decorations, a trapper-keeper
full of papers, a sweater, pencils and pens, a letter from the Health
Department—from folks with Alexander addresses. I could write a mystery-- but I won’t.
Also, I could tell about the writers’ conference at
Harding University last weekend. I sold two books, bought one, won three
places-- two with money--heard three good speakers, one from Chicago, and
visited with many folks. Made some new friends and visited with old friends.
Of course, my journal is packed with observations,
questions, comments, tasks-I’ve-completed, poems, names, three-word sentences,
places, church and cemetery names, plus items about WW 2 veterans, snippets
from obituaries, new words learned by working the crossword every day—stuff
like that. Nothing to make a complete post.
I could list the books I’ve read and stacked close by
to write reviews for Amazon—Marjorie Holmes,’ You and I and Yesterday, Anna
Sewell’s Black Beauty, which I re-read to see if I wanted to include it as
something to read to a sequel character’s toddler, Angelo. No way, I decided. Then
there’s Book Lover’s Devotional, Jeannette Walls’ The Glass Castle, Porter
Shreve’s The Obituary Writer, R. Andrew Wilson’s Write Like Hemingway, and
a poetry book, Solidago: An Altar to Weeds by Charlotte Renk.
Then, there’s always the subject of cats and my
concern as to whether to feed the five black cats that appeared—and now consider themselves
part of the landscape—or to rock them out of my sight. I can’t catch them;
there are plenty of places to hide on this hill. I couldn’t kill them, but I would
pay to have the vet euthanize them. My three fixed inside/outside males are
enough for one person. I’m ambivalent about the others: I don’t want to be
hauled up and shamed as being inhumane.
I mustn’t forget about the pear harvest coming on. I
wasn’t sure there would be a very good crop, but there is. I’ve worked up
several batches so far and have a large bowl full ready to be cut in to edible “meat.” Maybe while I sit and
peel and gouge and cut, I can think of something for a post. At least it’s
worth a try.
