Anything’s possible…

Another morning of which the rest of the world has had several, while all we have had is one. Be that as it may, let’s get on with things and not be bogged down on why such oddities happen to us, because they do. Simple as that. How’s the agenda coming, Ann?

“I believe we are still in the middle of discussing Lilly’s project.”

“Oh, yes. As I recall, I was about to share something wonderful that happened just as I was trying to get these two women out of the wine cellar.”

“So, you’ve managed to get them out, Lilly – that’s wonderful. At least we’re starting to make progress somewhere.”

“Well, I wouldn’t go so far as to say that. What I came up with was not how to get them out, but rather an entire philosophy on how they got in there in the first place.”

“I don’t have time for philosophical discussions on why women lock themselves into wine cellars! I am trying to wade through mountains of material, myself, just to figure out whether the FBI did – or didn’t – confiscate Tesla’s material on a nation-wide defense system. I don’t suppose any of you realize that half that man’s ideas were trash and the other half pure genius? Why, it’s almost impossible to –“

“Professor, would you kindly remember that even though we are alone here, it is still a public forum. With the new regulations in place, we simply cannot be throwing around phrases like FBI or defense systems.”

“Oh, I beg your pardon.”

“But – really, Professor -- I think you’d like this. What I was going to share is exactly the sort of thing you’re always explaining to us. It’s the fact that everything -- and I mean everything – can be broken down into one basic element. Not just physical things, but thoughts, feelings, and even our interactions with one another. An essential element, if you will.”

“My dear Lilly… just when I think you haven’t a reasoning fiber in your being, you astound me with something like this. An essential element – my own thoughts exactly! Can you explain how it is that you came to such a conclusion?”

“She certainly can’t explain it here, this is an agenda meeting, not a dissertation committee. Look at all the space we’ve taken up already, and not a thing to show for it, yet.”

“I’m sure I’m very sorry.”

“Well, at least we didn’t have any catastrophes, this time. Could it be we’re actually adjusting to this thing?”

“Still too early to tell, I should think.”

“We can pick it up again, tomorrow, and maybe we’ll find out then. In the meantime, you two see if you can agree on just exactly what that essential element is, and whether or not the rest of the world might give the slightest care about it.”

“Something universal, you mean?”

“It is, after all, what we writers strive for. Turn off the blog, somebody, and let’s get to work.”

What’s happening on the farm today: After raising two pigs this year, there is not a single sprig of anything growing in the garden area even after four months. The red, sandy soil seems to be terribly depleted of any nourishment whatsoever, even in the compost corner. I am now on a major campaign to enrich it. So far, I’ve managed to drag two wheelbarrows of horse manure over from the barn, but seeing as how I’m so terribly out of shape, it was all I could manage the first time out. Imagine my surprise this morning when it was all spread out evenly and beautifully, as if I had hired a team of professional gardeners. What a delight to find out chickens are good for more than just cholesterol-free eggs and keeping the bug population down!

Habit status: Day 5 (our days, that is)