When conversation is thrown at us, it comes splashing onto our drums in bits and pieces. My unsettling question is, “What is ‘almost,’ a bit or a piece of the drum beat?”
Who should fit anchoring bits and pieces together, when we use “almost” in our conversation?
“I’m almost ready to go.“ “We’re almost there.” “It‘s almost dinner time.” “These burgers are almost overdone.” “Rover almost caught that car.” “My boss was almost impressed.” “I almost called you last night.” “Winter’s almost gone.” “These seasoned chicken strips almost taste like chocolate.” “These new shoes are almost too tight.” “If I stand on my tippy, tippy toes, I can almost reach it.” “It’s almost night time.” “Those little fledglings almost fill their nest.” “We almost won.” You’re almost as tall as I am already.” “I can almost believe that.” “I’m almost too old for this.”
As a matter of honesty, we almost haven’t contributed anything useable at all to the onslaught of bits and pieces. “Almost“, seems so completely incomplete, so much of a non-runner, so unmoving. But, I still don’t know, is “almost” a bit or a piece, it’s almost impossible to tell them apart!

Why does a cluster of nerves tend to get curled up tight as a pigs tail, when a body is challenged by a deadline. Everybody’s body’s gonna run up against a deadline or two, at some time or another. Deadlines seem the least bothersome when we acknowledge that they are eminent, and that we’ll simply have to deal with them whenever they appear.
You, my blogger friends, have allowed me to grow quite comfortable with most of my deadlines. I don’t feel nearly as nervous as I once did. As a matter of fact, I’m afraid I’ve become somewhat calloused and don’t always recognize my deadlines as being really dead.
You see, in my blogs I’ve written many, many lines that were really very dead. But, none of you has even hinted that I quit writing. So, I continually write more blogs, proudly hosting dead lines. Totally meaningless, skinny dead lines.
These skinny dead lines are value rated nose to nose with the dogwood’s skinny, drop downs that have used up all their bark.
I wonder, just how many dead lines can one get by with, in a two and a half pint blog?
Deadlines make me nervous? Nope, not anymore!
As a matter of truth, I kinda’ like to write ‘em in anticipation of harvesting some pretty lively feedback!

What size is an inkling,
Is it round or is it square?
Can one ride an active inkling,
Leaving think trails in the air?
Does it crowd a busy schedule,
Or does one have some time to spare
Is unwrapping an inkling so important,
Time’s neither here nor there.

Will there always be an inkling,
To nudge us towards our fate?
Or will we find ourselves alone,
At the end of an anxious wait?
We might “should have known”
An inkling could run late.
‘cause, that one’s humpbacked over,
A strappen on a skate.

Ok, so how good is an inkling,
Does it know right when to quit?
When to stand firm,
And when to just sit?
When to engage serious,
Instead of humor and wit?
Could I catch a flying inkling,
If I had a catcher’s mitt?

Please tell me --------
What have I forgotten,
That I’ve tried not to forget?

A powerful lesson has been designed into a very simple vessel.
Have you ever felt the frustration of being given an assignment and suddenly, with the slightest change of the weather it seems, the assignment has become exactly opposite?
It reminds me of the story of the man driving a truck alongside the highway. He would stop every few feet and dig a hole in the ditch. After a few minutes, a second man jumped out of the same truck and shoveled all the dirt back into the hole. They would drive and stop, drive and stop, each time, each man did his assigned task. One would dig a hole and the other one would shovel it back shut, without any complaints.
There was only one thing wrong with that operation, the man who was supposed to put the trees in the holes was sick that day.
Well, even if we haven’t physically experienced a drastic 180 degree reversal in assignments, the very thought of it is almost enough to flush a dose of blood right up into the face.
Would it be in place for us to insulate our feelings against the abrupt turn around and keep our mouth firmly shut until we’re asked to open it?
Ok, so which is the simple vessel that has insulated it’s feelings against directly opposite requests?
It’s your thermos, it doesn’t care if it’s asked to keep your tea cold or hot. It simply obeys and keeps it’s mouth firmly closed until further notice.
Can’t we do likewise?

“No, not unless you wanted it.”
No, of course we wouldn’t say that out loud to anybody. It’s just a handy, built in intolerance that we grew up with.
Two toddlers, strangers to each other, are sitting together on the floor, empty handed. Toys of all shapes and sizes are scattered about, many within easy reach. Everything is fine, until Valicia picks up the little blue rubber dump truck with a bright yellow bed.
Just that quick, Shorno comes unglued! Everybody in the world should have known, that’s exactly what Shorno was thinking about picking up first. Now Valicia had the nerve to steal it away, in only one quick swipe.
Another well known fact is that, at this juncture, every other toy has lost all popularity.
Listen up folks, this has proven to be one innocent incident, capable of incubating well proportioned temper tantrums.
Well, Shorno and Valicia grow up, fall in love, get married and are reminded at their wedding, “Do not covet anything that is thy neighbor’s.”
Do you think they’ll need any support?
I can visualize some of us sitting back, wearing a big grin, thinking, “Glad I’m not that way.” suddenly we hear, “Did you want to use the computer now?”
“No, -------- not really, --------- I mean, -------- are you going to be long?”
If you’ve totally conquered these possessive feelings, please share what you’ve replaced them with!