The head case

Posted on February 18, 2010 | 1 comment

A woman had problems thinking and making decisions, so she went to see her doctor. After running a series of tests, the doctor informed her that her head was filled with rocks.

“Is that a serious condition?” she asked with concern.

“It’s not life-threatening, if that’s what you mean,” the doctor replied. “But it can make it difficult to function, as you’ve found.”

“What can be done about it?” the woman asked.

“The only treatment is to open your skull and remove the rocks,” the doctor said. The woman consented to the treatment and the doctor scheduled her for surgery.

She was groggy for a bit after she woke up from the anesthesia, but her head was finally empty and she was able to think clearly for the rest of her life.

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Too much

Posted on February 2, 2010 | Leave a comment

“Too much of a good thing can be wonderful.” — Mae West

As I wandered the aisles of a large chain bookstore the other day, I experienced a growing sense of unease. I paused between the Philosophy and the New Age Spirituality sections and sought to put my finger on the cause. A few minutes later I murmured, “There are too many books in the world.” Even as one part of my mind reeled in astonishment, I looked about me, nodded my head, and repeated, “There are too many books in the world.”

Coming from a hopeless bibliophile and former aspiring writer, this is nothing less than shocking. Stranger still, my profound love of both reading and writing has led me to this uncomfortable conviction. There are not enough days left to me in this life, nor hours in those days, to read all the books currently in print that I want to read. Likewise, such a surfeit (dare I say glut?) of books makes it extremely unlikely that anything written by me will ever find it’s way into print, let alone to a retailer’s shelf. These twin realizations sank in like fangs, the venom of their import so debilitating that I had to leave the bookstore at once. I may not be able to go back.

I have long been a great fan of Mae West, and the quote at the top of this posting is one I have claimed at times as a personal motto. Now I find myself sadly and reluctantly amending it to fit my present state: Too much of a good thing can be simply too much for me.

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Silence and comfort

Posted on January 23, 2010 | Leave a comment

I’ve not been writing much of late; I’ve been too lost in a life turned suddenly labyrinthine and well-nigh impenetrable. A couple poems have wrenched their way out, but with such great effort that the results seem pale and feeble. So I have sat in wordless darkness, waiting.

When you are still enough, silence becomes palpable. It becomes something you can feel, a physical pressure against the skin. Stranger yet, you can actually even hear it. I have finally been still enough for long enough to begin feeling and listening my way out of the labyrinth. And now the words are coming back, but in unexpected ways.

I’ve begun writing again, in halting bursts, in a black-and-white school composition notebook, in pen. I suppose it’s the writing equivalent of comfort food, harkening back to earlier times and simpler pleasures. Not all such memories are happy, but that doesn’t appear to matter. It seems there are some things I cannot say through a keyboard and the crisp legibility of Times Roman.

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Passing on the merry

Posted on December 19, 2009 | Leave a comment

I just posted a comment at George Snell’s blog (http://hightalk.net/2009/12/18/merry-christmas-goodwill/) on the best gift I’ve ever given. George wants to collect 1000 comments before midnight Christmas Day to raise awareness of (and donations for) Goodwill Industries and all the important and amazing work they do in our communities.

Stop by and give George a verbal high-five, then drop some green on a local charity of your own. Make sure you spend a couple hours in the next week or two doing something for someone else, entirely unsolicited: lend a hand or an ear to someone who isn’t expecting it. You’ll be glad you did.

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Olfactory overkill

Posted on November 14, 2009 | Leave a comment

I have been sitting at a work table in the library for an hour or so. Exactly three minutes ago, a woman sat down at a table at least 25 feet away from me. She did not walk past me to get to this table; it’s located closer to the door than the table where I am seated. The perfume she is wearing is so strong that I have begun to feel nauseated.

I have to find somewhere else to sit. Now.

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The heart condition

Posted on October 23, 2009 | Leave a comment

Once there was a woman who felt a dull, constant ache in her chest. At first she paid no attention to it, thinking it was indigestion. The pain didn’t seem to grow any worse, but neither did it diminish.

The woman eventually became accustomed to the ache so that she hardly noticed it. One morning she realized she no longer felt it all. At first she was relieved to be free of pain after such a long time, but soon she noticed that she didn’t feel anything else either. She went to see a doctor, who scheduled a series of tests to determine what was wrong.

When the tests were completed, the doctor called the woman into his office to talk with her about the results.

“I am sorry to tell you this,” said the doctor, “but your heart has turned to stone.”

“Are you certain?” the woman asked in disbelief.

“Quite certain,” replied the doctor. He showed her the test results, all of which clearly indicated that her heart had indeed become stone.

“What is the treatment?” asked the woman.

“I’m afraid there is none,” replied the doctor. “The condition is permanent. But the good news is that you no longer feel anything, so this discovery cannot affect you.”

The woman realized he was absolutely correct; she felt neither grief nor dismay at the news. She shook hands with the doctor and thanked him before leaving the office.

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The king and the tern

Posted on October 21, 2009 | Leave a comment

Once there was a king who lived near the sea. He liked to walk along the beach in the mornings, where he especially enjoyed watching the shorebirds in flight. The way they swooped and dove and rode the wind thrilled him, and he often found himself wishing he could soar as they did.

In time the king befriended one particular tern who regularly glided along beside him on his walks. The two became close companions, and the king invited the tern to come live with him in his palace. The tern agreed, being very fond of the king. The castle was spacious and lovely but not very conducive to flying, and the king no longer went walking on the beach, with his friend so close at hand.

Years passed. Recalling one day how inspiring it had been to see the tern in flight, the king suggested that it accompany him on the beach as when they first knew one another. To his surprise, the stiff sea breeze tossed the tern like a leaf, bouncing it off rocks and slamming it into the sand. Rescuing the battered bird, he asked it what was wrong.

“I’ve been too long away from the sea,” explained the tern. “My wings aren’t used to riding the winds as they once did.”

Dismayed at this discovery, the two friends sat on a large piece of driftwood and talked. They decided the tern could regain some or all of its flying prowess, but not if it returned with him to the palace. The king didn’t want to be parted from his dear companion, but he could not rule his kingdom from the beach.

Together they sat at the water’s edge, listening to the pounding of the surf and considering the possibilities.

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The parable of the orchids

Posted on October 20, 2009 | Leave a comment

There once was a man who had some orchids that he cherished. He placed them near a sunny window because he knew they needed light. After a while they looked a little pale, so he put a bay window in his house to give them more light.

Their condition didn’t really improve, so he built an elaborate greenhouse with automatic temperature control devices and strategically placed shade structures to shield the plants from scorching. The orchids continued to languish, so he called in a plant expert, who told him the plants were too dry.

He installed a humidifier, but the poor orchids withered and eventually died. Devastated, he related his tale of heroic effort and loss to a friend.

“Did you ever water them?” asked the friend.

“I provided the perfect amount of light and humidity,” the man replied.

“What about water?” persisted the friend.

“I carefully controlled the temperature,” the man said.

“Yes,” said his friend gently, “but did you water them?”

The man became irritated. “No, but I built them a greenhouse, for pete’s sake!” he protested.

“That’s all well and good,” answered his friend, “but all they really needed was some water.”

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A word to the wise

Posted on October 19, 2009 | Leave a comment

Things a man should never say when arguing with the mother of his children (Part 1 of an occasional series)

You don’t know the sacrifices I’ve made for this family.

This is not to say that he hasn’t made sacrifices, because he most certainly has. Without a doubt he’s made a lot of sacrifices that no one knows about, which means that those same sacrifices have gone unrecognized. If these words ever come out of a man’s mouth, there is no question that he is not getting the appreciation he needs. So why shouldn’t he say this?

Reason #1: Childbirth. Unless his sacrifices included wearing a 30-pound pack strapped to his abdomen for six months AND passing a kidney stone the size of a baseball, he’s got nothing. And that’s not even considering any complications during pregnancy or delivery. He REALLY doesn’t want to get into that kind of pissing contest with her. In fact, if he’s used this line in an argument and his wife hasn’t verbally laid him out cold, he’s either married to an idiot or a saint; it’s pretty hard to resist delivering that kind of sucker punch.

Reason #2: Actually, the need for further reasons is completely obviated by Reason #1.

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Bulb crazy

Posted on October 14, 2009 | Leave a comment

I’m afraid I’ve overdone it. Again.

Come fall, a gardener’s thoughts turn to the planting of spring-blooming bulbs, which have to be planted NOW. Last year I waited too long to purchase my bulbs in the mistaken belief that I could get them on clearance if I waited until retailers deemed the season for planting to be over. Not only did I not get any bargains, I had a drastically reduced selection from which to choose. Even then I bought more than I was able to plant, for we ended up having a very wet fall and early winter: my soil is heavy clay and impossible to work while wet. Half of them ended up in the compost this spring, having rotted in their bags in my garage.

A week of clear, dry, autumn weather got me thinking about fall planting and the beautiful mature gardens I left behind when I moved to the Bluegrass. One tulip in particular was my very favorite, a double late tulip called ‘Uncle Tom’ — a deep, rich maroon flower so petaliferous that it looks a peony or an overblown rose. I fired off a wistful email request to my mother-in-law for her to visit my favorite garden center in all the world (Natureworks in Northford CT) and get some bulbs for me.

Wondering if ‘Uncle Tom’ is still available, I went online to see if I could find it. Before I realized what I was about, I had placed an order for 50 bulbs! (I must say I showed remarkable restraint, however, getting the smallest possible quantities of only two narcissi, two tulips, and two alliums, none of which are available in stores around here.)

A couple days later, my dear mother-in-law let me know that she’s bringing me a box of bulbs at the end of the month as requested. In my excitement over finding ‘Uncle Tom’ I had completely forgotten about the email I had sent her!

So now I face the daunting prospect of getting 100+ bulbs in the ground before spring. Luckily, the soil doesn’t usually freeze around here until January or February, so I have a little time.

I just hope we don’t have a lot of rain.

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