The Words Are Rising Gummous

7_quick_takes_sm1A 7 (not so) Quick Takes on Friday post.

            I should never have written that post on having nothing to say; I’ve had nothing to say ever since and it’s driving me crazy.  (I know some would say…well, never mind.)  I’ve been reading some heavy stuff, and that probably contributes to the problem; reading Father Schall and Pope Benedict makes you stop and think over just about every sentence. The problem is, when I try to write about such things, true as they are, it sounds phony and contrived, like something written by a dreary 19th century Russian novelist.  I’m trying to find a way out of this and the only thing I can think of is just to put some words on paper and hope something sticks.  If not, I’ll be forced try some advice from the 18th century writer (Tristram Shandy), Laurence Stern:

“[When] the thoughts rise heavily and pass gummous through my pen… I never stand conferring with pen and ink one moment; for if a pinch of snuff or a stride or two across the room will not do the business for me — … I take a razor at once; and have tried the edge of it upon the palm of my hand, without further ceremony, except that of first lathering my beard, I shave it off, taking care that if I do leave hair, that it not be a gray one: this done, I change my shirt — put on a better coat — send for my last wig — put my topaz ring upon my finger; and in a word, dress myself from one end to the other of me, after my best fashion.” — Laurence Sterne

I know exactly what it feels like to have thoughts “pass gummous” through my pen, well, keyboard, and sometimes taking up a razor seems an entertaining idea, although, slicing my hand up seems kind of counterproductive.  Besides, I don’t even have a straight razor.  Guess I’ll just have to keep typing.

+ + +

            I could write about some things I’m grateful for.  I’m looking out my back window at the tail end of a thunderstorm, and everything is wet and looks almost as green as the greenest glens in Ireland.  There’s soft light with highlights to make Rembrandt proud on the wet rocks out back. It’s very good to have the moisture as it offers some reprieve from the danger of fires such as we had last year at this time.  God is good and I don’t need to worry if I have the worst case of writers block this side of infinity.  It doesn’t matter if I say anything brilliant or original, or put out the deepest insight into the purpose of all things ever devised, because there is nothing new to say, not really.  It’s all been said, just in different ways by different people.

+ + +

            My far better half told me last night about the doctor who has his office in the small shopping mall owned by her company.  He’s selling his practice, retiring, because he doesn’t want to face the alien world of Obamacare.  I wonder how many doctors are doing something similar, and if medical care will become a rather scarce commodity?  It’s the great mistake of our leaders these days thinking that government can do everything for everyone and that with just the right training and with the best people in charge, we can have the perfect world.  Christians have known that this is false because they’ve read Genesis.  It’s often forgotten that Christianity teaches that there is no perfect society, not on this side of the roots anyway, justice isn’t to be found here; it will be found in the eternal kingdom of God alone.  Our true business is charity, love.  If we did a better job of sharing that truth, we wouldn’t be dealing with some of the sad consequences that seem to be in the news lately.

+ + +

            Well, it’s raining again and I’m going to go look out the window and just enjoy watching things get wet, and be grateful that I don’t have to stand out in the yard and water new grasses we just put in.  We have a terrible, and never ending, problem with deer in our neighborhood.  We tried growing Mungo Pines in the planter in the backyard, the deer were supposed to find them repulsive.  I guess the deer didn’t get the message; after a rather hard winter, and with the loss of feeding area as a result of last year’s fires, those poor plants were done for by April Fool’s Day.  The grass is our last resort, so far, surprisingly, the deer haven’t bothered with grasses we’ve planted in other parts of the yard, so it seems a logical choice.

+ + +

            I guess I should mention, in fairness to the deer, that they aren’t the only four footed problem we have in our neighborhood.  During the summer, we have a plentiful supply of hummingbirds, and we would dearly love to put out hummingbird feeders so we could enjoy them in our yard.  Well, the bears have other ideas.  I put out a hanger, made of something similar to steel rebar, and hung a feeder on it the second year we were here.  Within a week, we found the bar twisted like a pretzel, the hummingbird feeder on the ground with all the contents poured out around it, and realized that hadn’t been a good idea; turns out, bears have a sweet tooth. We tried again last year, with the same results.  What’s the definition of insanity again?  Oh, and did I mention the bobcat having kittens under our deck?  OK, I won’t go there.

+ + +

            I’m going to do this week’s post as a 7 Quick Takes, title courtesy of Jennifer Fulwiler, the gracious host of Conversion Diary, simply because it seems to fit that format really well, considering by the time I finish there’ll be 7 notes to this post.

+ + +

            I do wonder where my topaz ring got off to, and my last wig has simply disappeared.  I blame global warming.  Has anybody tried conferring with their laptop lately?

Enjoy your weekend.

Enhanced by Zemanta

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s