Vacation in the mountains was great. No, I did not end up getting sick (vitamin C, calcium, vitamins A and D and a little Salmon Oil thrown in). But would you mind terribly Dear Reader, if I didn't tell you all about our amazing trip and the berries we picked and the dog we almost lost in a near snow storm (not a complete repeat of last year but within inches or degrees rather)?
Would you mind terribly if I didn't tell you all the things around the farm that I am doing or that I'm not getting to or that Dirt and the girls are or are not doing? Would it be a bad thing if I didn't report the concrete things of my life? Didn't tell you of all the things we are doing to get ready to be down at the Puyallup Fair next Wednesday morning? Would you mind terribly?
Because I just want to plop my Dear Reader down in the middle of my mind. It has a lovely easy chair in it and a little side table set with some little goodies; fresh fruit, some cookies and a toasty cup of Earl Grey along with a tall glass of ice water.
We've danced around the room of my concrete tangible life and done so quite a bit and we, you and I, have actually dabbled in the doorway of my mind some, but if it wasn't too scary and you knew you could pick up and leave anytime you wished, that I hold no one to any sort of social contract, would you mind coming in and sitting a spell in my mind?
It, my mind, has been chewing up a lot of ground lately. A lot prompted by events or things others have said. A little peep into the window: when in Christ, is there or ought there to be anything we see as futile? Should we voluntarily participate in perceived futility or perceive difficulty or such as futility?
I actually do have to go and do something right now Dear Reader so I'm going to leave you here, with my question for you and someone's question for me, well a statement actually, that I then turned into a question and answered nearly immediately and emphatically.
I'll be trying to take a spin around the neighborhood while I "pen" out some of my thoughts of late. But remember I hold no one to a social contract. Because I visit, listen and enjoy, doesn't mean I hold you to what others may see as "fair trade." I know my "stuff" can be convoluted, hard to chew through and just doesn't make a hill of beans to the majority of lives not to mention I can be just plain boring. So, even if you tell me you wouldn't mind if I got all thoughts and feelings-ish some what poetic maybe and pretended to be profound, I won't make you stay if I go where you never suspected a person could go.
So there you have it Dear Reader, that's where I'm at journal-wise, now I am going to slip out to the kitchen to make some Lanny-ized Chicken Cordon Bleu for dinner for some impromptu company while you mull that over. Sneak out when ever you wish after you tell me what you think, or not, and I'll catch up with you in the next day or two, maybe not all of your ten thousand posts my G. Reader tells me is waiting for me, not even close, but I will swing by your place for a bit.