Too many thoughts.
I am realising that sometimes I failed to blog because I couldnt keep my mind still enough to pin down a single, suitable line of thought.
For example, potential blog posts since late yesterday have been:
Mercury retrograde and several funny/painful stories about how I guessed as much before going to the web to confirm it.
Trouble transferring bloglines et al to IE so that I can finally comment again on other blogs.
Two long mental rants on how transgender people and astrologers are positively promoted in the New Testament if you know where to look, and why can't pharisee-types stop telling us we haven't spiritually washed our souls if we haven't washed our hands, and we haven't done that either if we didn't go up past the elbow...
OK so that was THREE rants and now I feel like the Spanish Inquisition, and can I just come in again?
AND how, if it bugs me, it probably relates to me so I should go play specks and beams and maybe this is all my own lesson and not for anyone else and I should just shut up. Right.
The trip my mind went on, all by itself, wondering who I could possibly give this to for Christmas, without being accused of sarcasm.
The growing urge to completely remove and reinstall Firefox, whatever that does to my bookmarks (and no, some of those beauties are NOT going to get stored online in Delicious etc, tyvm, not even temporarily). My Firefox is so useless that I can't even see the pop-up that allows me to install a picture or two to break this up.
Two wonderful, fantastically people to add to my RSS feeds: Gretchen Little and Neil Fairbrother. I could have waffled a post's worth on either one.
The brilliant, brilliant community project called The Engine Room in Somerset (Bridgewater, specifically, I think). They have a protoblog but THIS brilliant Medialit video says it all.
Did foxes dig up my beloved (17 year old, recently dead) cat in the middle of the night and if so, how come there are no shreds of shroud-towel on the front lawn?
Should I even tell the kids, or should I just plant something in the hole, quick, even if I have to pull it up from somewhere else?
When burying beloved family pets in their favourite sunbathing / world-watching / dog-taunting spots, how deep is deep enough?
Did the binmen mistake him for something the local wildlife had ripped from the black plastic bag, and take him on a final journey this morning in the back of a big yellow lorry?
Red Lorry, Yellow Lorry. The big red lorry went over the hill. The big red lorry has pots and pans. Uh-uh, no Janet and John in my infant school world. No reading, much, either, because I was a late, much wished for child and taught to read before I got there. I did all the books in all the colours in year one, after causing an argument amongst staff as to whether I could really read the words or just had a photographic memory, or both.
I used to spend most of my lessons, aged four or five, sitting on the piano for being naughty, but then when you've done the task in the first five minutes and there's nothing left to do but hide the equipment and mess it up for everyone else, or sneak an extra milk carton not realising it mean Johnny slow-poke who was last to finish, wouldn't get one at all....
And that was an on-the-spot tangent, oops. I must practice forethought.
I must remember to remember to write that down somewhere.
Oh, OK, somewhere else.
I've found so, so many funny stories in the last couple of days, as I surfed for them deliberately to feed into Tony Vanburger's show, but I've never been near my own computer at the time. Tony's whole concept is to find a funny story, then find a song to go with it, all live on air. I could have put my own slant on each and every one of them on here in the safety of my blog, not least because in some instances (as is natural) Tony and I are diametric political opposites. I miss venting my own take, but where to start?
Sorry to anyone who has been listening out for me - the studio email account went silent yesterday (not even a word from the 'five emails per show' regulars, and we have a few of those,) so we had to do loads more research for ideas and had fewer conversation starters to spark off from. I just stayed in the background, researching, watching and learning. Thank heavens for David Evans who comes into the show on Tuesdays to advertise Nick's show, which follows. David and Tony have a whole 'guessing game' going on.
Here's one link I found that wasn't suitable radio fodder but is deliciously funny - commenters have got carried away with endorsing the magical and sexual powers of this t-shirt..... well worth a read; don't forget to look at the stuff in the right hand sidebar too.
And that's not half of it, but now I am nearly late for work (and rushing and messing up, can you tell?). Today for my first task I will dress up like an Elephant keeper at the zoo and scrub out the filthy, huge palladin bins with a long handled broom. Its not so bad unless its windy....
Then at 3pm, four hours later, I will leg it down to the studio and sit and watch an expert at work for three hours, 4 to 7, before walking back up the hill to home to sort out kids and homework and school uniform and tales of their day, and dinner, and bed.