Nuttin' in partickular

It's one of those days. Usually by the time I've put the newspapers in the pile by the stove and walk up the stairs, I'm primed for writing. Well, not always. In fact, many times there's nothing shooting off fireworks in my brain until it's time to start punching keys. Often, I'm somewhat surprised and even pleased at what transfers from mind to keyboard to screen.

This morning, however, is one of those 'nuttin' in partickular' days. The adrenalin stayed in bed, the early dose of caffeine is wearing off, and think, think, think as I might, no lightbulbs of 'must-tells' are popping off among the brain stems.

I could talk about the 20 pints of apricot jam I made yesterday, but nothing exploded---yet, anyway. Or, I could describe the few minutes I spent mowing tall grass during the late afternoon, but the lawnmower didn't break down and none of that tall grass caught on fire like it did a couple of weeks ago when it was really, really dry. Even that day, the fire fizzled.

Then, there's my mailbox that has a screw loose. It's worth a sentence or two. The screw that holds it on the post is loose, so when I open the box, the mail falls out. I thought about fixing it yesterday, but got side-tracked when Helen Baker came by and stopped along the road for one of her occasional visits.

Helen deserves lots of lines for all the stuff she does, related to the Community Assistance League. She's a shaker, a doer, and a mighty friendly and caring lady. Helen really cares about the animals and watches out for them all along Forest Siding and South Center Valley Road. She even takes them home if she thinks they're lost. I enjoy our chats.

Helen and I finished up our gab session when all those trucks kept coming down the road, so that's when I headed to the house and got started on those apricots. That took up a lot of time, and the kitchen was pretty messy. I didn't worry, though, cuz Bill wasn't coming home for dinner. He went to a Society of American Foresters meeting last night and talked about blister rust. He told me this morning that a WSU professor came up afterward gave him a big compliment on his talk.

I asked Bill if he was going to take his blister rust (that's the disease that likes to kill white pine trees) talk on the road. He said for sure not today cuz he's going to the Blanchard senior citizens center to talk about Humbird Lumber Co. He wishes the seniors would give him more than 15 minutes cuz there's a lot to say about Humbird's influence in that area. Maybe if he just keeps on talking, those ladies and gents won't know what to do and will just have to sit and listen.

But then I've warned him about the dangers of doing that. At one of my recent talks, I was just getting revved up when a lady in the audience piped up and said, "Okay, that was very good. Let's go home." She was the same lady who sat in the front row and told me at the beginning of my speech to talk louder cuz she couldn't hear.

I've learned to expect such deflating moments when the urgency and importance of what comes out of our mouths often falls on deaf or intensely uninterested ears. After all, I was a teacher quite used the short-lived excitement of those eager hands shooting up in mid-lecture instantly leading to rolling-eye groans when the acknowledged urchin asked, "What time is lunch today?"

One of my favorites along those lines came from a very intelligent young lady who abruptly interrupted my train of teaching one day with the query, "When was the last time you watered that geranium on your file cabinet?" I still see that young lady around the area, and she is involved in horticultural pursuits on her family farm, so I've extended absolution.

Okay, okay, I can see you out there. You figure you've read enough, and it's time to go home. So, I'll just cut short this "nuttin' in partickular" babble and wish you a nice day.

What time is lunch?