Obviously A Lack Of Subject Matter

For whatever reason I just can’t fathom, the wellspring of ideas which normally rifles through my noggin minute by minute has slowed to a snails pace.

 

It’s like it just drove by a cop and was potentially going too fast.  When the cop pulled out behind it and started following, it slowed down, observed all traffic laws and inconspicuously put its seatbelt on.

 

Crud.

 

By my count, I’m 41 days into to this expedition of Letters From The Past, and find the regularity in which I write parallels, well, my regularity.

 

Just today I got what I thought could have been a pretty darn good idea for a new post.

 

It all started when I was tying the draw string on my shorts.

 

Cardio today.

 

So if you’re doing it right, there’s a point when you’re tying a shoe lace or a drawstring where you use the outside of your pinky finger to hold the string tight.  That particular area of my finger is currently dry and cracked because of the dry air we have around here this time of year.

 

The simplest of questions then occurred to me.  This one is as good as the one in my mind about why we eat corn on the cob in a direction parallel to the cob.

 

Think about that for a moment.

 

Where did the process of tying something in the manner we use today actually come from?

 

Who came up with loop, swoop, and swirl, or the bit with the rabbit ears?

 

Is it documented somewhere?

 

You Google it.  I’ll be here when you get back.

 

In preparing mentally for this piece, I took a picture of my pinky finger where you can see the dry cracking.  It kind of stings when I tie stuff.  I really should consider Velcro in the winter months.

 

Anyway, something else occurred to me.

 

Here in the compound, we all have our phones tied to the big ole iCloud in the sky.  That essentially means that when I take a picture on my phone, the magic of the 21st century puts that picture in the photo stream of every other iPhone here in the compound.

 

That has got to have the rest of the organization wondering just what the hell I’m doing taking pictures of my pinky, salsa, those cream cheese pinwheel things from the big game the other day,  the Girl Scout cookies we ordered, an English muffin, canine laser eyes, and the TharpSter Pit Bull sitting in the back of a jeep that needs a new headliner.

 

I’m ultimately of the belief that if you act goofy and insane throughout the early years of your life, no one will notice when you actually do lose your mind.

 

I’m sure at one point the pictures in that photo stream will be used at my eventual competency hearing.  The jury is still out as to whether they will be used by me or against me.

 

In the meantime, I’ll just sit here in the confines of one of my makeshift “offices” afforded by a laptop or smart phone and continue the effort to write about something other that what sums up to a gripe about dry skin and the need for lotion.

 

Randy Tharp

TharpSter is a husband to one woman, a father to two kids, a master to two dogs, an occasional cubical occupant, and unable to make up his mind on an adequate theme for this website.

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