Ordinarily, Monday morning is a good morning because USA Today publishes again after a weekend off and I get the USA Today Crossword Puzzle. True to form, my carrier was here at 4:05 a.m. sharp while I was clearing my stuffy nose. After one or two glitches, the puzzle was done in 10 minutes but I didn't get back to sleep for a couple of hours. I realize I have precious little to complain about compared to many in my age bracket (80 in September), and compared to my wife who suffers from severe sciatic pain. Nonetheless, I have always been adept at complaining, my entire life.
My sister has announced she has ordered 12 chickens when previously she had committed only to 5 and then I heard via the grapevine she was down to 3. The 12 chicken thing comes as a shock. As an agricultural expert who took a required course in chickens my senior year at the University of Wyoming where I majored in agriculture, and as a slave laborer who was forced to clean out the chicken house each Saturday, I have offered voluminous advice to my sister, to no avail.
I determined originally I would skip the blogs this morning. Some mornings you just don't have anything to say. Your reservoir of facts, sarcastic remarks, informative creativity, and ambition has reached a low point. I even went to church yesterday. Church is a place where you get the same message each week all of your life. We need the same message because we are slow learners and need constant reinforcement, repetition, and encouragement to remind us why we are here and what we are supposed to do. And what we are supposed to do is to be thankful for what we have, for all of life's blessings. There. I have talked myself into being in a more cheerful mood because I have much to be thankful for.
