Writing Ready

Looking down at the eggs, still sunny side up, I yearned to be one of those people who, with a deft flip of the wrist, can banish the happy-face yolks to the dark side of the moon. Without the mess that my few attempts have resulted in. Yolk running down the side of the pan only to fall into the burning ring of fire. Burn, burn, burn... Never mind. Further attempts simply don't warrant the aggravation and there are spatula factories with spatula quotas for all the spatula stores and customers for a reason.

The personal cooking failure was not the only thing I was thinking about this morning. I admit I analyzed this failure in the Nietsche way. He said love your failures, your shortcomings, even your greatest setbacks. These things make you as much you as do your successes and the idea is to love yourself. So, if you can't flip eggs with a deft porpoise-like snap of the wrist, love that about yourself. Why not.

But, (CMA- I don't like starting sentences with, and, but or so.) Anyway. But I was thinking about much more than that this morning. I was considering that my daughter had mentioned recently that it was interesting, (interesting in a that's kind of weird way) that I can't start writing if I'm not fully dressed in street clothes. Ready. It's true, but I don't know if it's weird or even interesting. I do like to be ready in case something happens. Like, I don't know, maybe we run out of some sort of staple. Bourbon, wine, or butter. Or something else that is a staple but not coming to mind, and I'm called upon to make an emergency run to the Hannaford. I'm in my office ready to go. It's surprising how rarely this happens but that doesn't really matter. What matters is I'm ready.

Just thinking out loud.