So this is it. I'm here, sitting at my computer like a good little blogger, trying to compose some semblance of semi-coherent thought while my mind reels through thousands of things that I could be doing, should be doing, don't want to be doing...and trying not to think about that thing called Isaac that's swirling chaotically toward the Gulf Coast.
This, ladies and gentlemen, is my very least favorite part of the year––that six-month span of days during which we in the Coastal states keep a wary eye on the tropics, fervently praying that we will escape turmoil for just one more year. Call me an idiot, but whenever there's a rumble in Thunder Alley (I think it's much more apropos than "The Tropics"––that's far too vacationy), I like to bury my head in the sand like an ostrich. Or clamp my eyes shut and clap my hands over my ears while chanting "CAn't hear you, can't HEAR you!) at the top of my lungs. After all, it works for toddlers. And ostriches. If I can't see it, it can't see me. Which means maybe it doesn't exist, right?
Wouldn't that be great? If all you had to do to dissipate everything bad was simply to close your eyes and ignore it? Wars would be gone, death and starvation...illness. Unfortunately, life doesn't work like that, and we have to deal with bad things and challenges as they come. I'm just glad to know that I don't have to do it alone. None of us do.
We have each other.
We have God.
And both of those count for much more than we can ever imagine while we're busy trying not to worry.
Besides, burying your head in the sand messes up your hair.
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