Irony is everywhere. Take, for example, the irony of my supremely irregular posting schedule this summer after I looked forward to having more time to blog all semester. (I’m just really really good at wasting time.)
But enough about me. Let’s talk about you. I hope you’ve been well, whoever you are that’s reading this. I’m in the mood for writing something lighthearted today. Let’s see…
Sitting here, I happen to smell something burning upstairs. It’s quite amazing, the noses God’s given us. I’ll admit to being a little jealous of our dog sometimes, but it’s remarkable that even my sense of smell is capable of assuring my brain it’s someone’s food that’s burning and not the house. Of course, I could be wrong. You can’t always trust your senses, and that’s assuming said food and house actually exist.
But we’ll shove Descartes back into his cupboard for now. To be honest, the argument that it’s possible nothing exists but me, myself, and I has always struck me as a tad arrogant. But I really can’t see any way to counter it. So, maybe you’re a figment of my imagination. Or maybe I’m a figment of yours, and if so, I apologize if ever I am annoying or disappointing. Personally, I think I have a pretty good track record for a figment. Any of my flaws are really the fault of your own defective imagination anyway.
I actually don’t think the English muffins are burning though. Just well done, which for baked goods is generally the way to go. Cookies you can eat à la tartare, but I don’t recommend eating your pancakes rare. May I just add that if you’ve never had homemade English muffins, you absolutely must. Find a good recipe and to your nonexistent kitchen with you. (Many thanks to Mom, head baker. You’re the best.)
Then again, I could be wrong that those are English muffins I smell. Or that England exists. Or that the song I’m currently listening to exists. But then, that would be really sad, ’cause it’s a beautiful song. I’m not gonna make you listen to it, but you get extra credit if you do. Like 3 free points here on your final grade, no questions asked. (Ugh, I’m so not ready for school to start yet. Thank God for our beach trip next week, and I mean that with all my soul and to the credit of His name.)
It would be hard to say I’m excited for the beach (clever transition, eh?), because Cape Hatteras isn’t the kind of place you go to find bright lights and oceanfront hotels… that (*spoken with contempt*) kind of beach. It’s literally a beach. Dunes with grass on them. Lots and lots of water. No cars on the sand. No lifeguards, even. You can take your dog on the beach. And if you’re that member of the family that isn’t really fond of the beach proper, there is a mini-golf course / ice cream parlor, two thrift stores, and an even less-developed neighboring island.
It’s really a beach for people who like the beach. And it’s not something I’m excited about because I don’t get excited about quietude. But it is something I am looking forward to a lot. Quietude is something that only gets harder and harder to find. It’s something I need. It’s something we all need, really.
Unless, of course, Cape Hatteras doesn’t exist, but I choose to believe it does. It’s too awesome not to.
Even if it’s not possible for you, dear reader, to visit the ocean any time soon, I encourage you to get your daily recommended dose of quietude today. Close your door. Meditate. Pray. And then venture forth into the world to be awesome. ;) You got this.
While we’re making lists, stay hydrated. Can’t tell you how important that is. Make sure you eat something (healthy), find something that makes you smile, tell your best friend you love them. Give yourself a break from the internet, maybe. In short, dear reader, take care of yourself.
Assuming you exist. But then, you are at least as awesome as the beach, so I don’t doubt that.
Be sure to drink your
Ovaltine quietude, and God bless you.
Here’s a little something to go with your quietude this afternoon: