Words Fail Me

Yesterday was just one of those times: The idea was there, but the words, like dry snow, just weren’t packing. You know how you’d pick up a good handful of the stuff, but it just wouldn’t form into a good snowball? Pack it, open your hand and it all fell apart as if you never tried.

The words just wouldn’t come. I had the thought ok, knew what I wanted to say, but every time I picked up a handful of words, they didn’t pack into a sentence, much less a paragraph. I’d type them and they’d fall off the screen.

Some days, the well-crafted thoughts turn into well-crafted sentences and posts, other days they just collapse. Or: some days you’re the pigeon and some days you’re the statue.

So, while I was waiting for the creative part of me to get moving, I watched part of a program on nudity. Once again I have concluded that the vast majority of us look a whole lot better with clothes on. There is a brief period of time when we are exciting while stark naked, another brief period of time when we’re ok as long as nobody younger is around, then a real long time when it’s best that we are wearing something … maybe lots.

Then I noticed that the fellow who invented Gatorade died. I think he was the team physician for the U. of Florida Gators and that’s how it got its name. He realized what was being sweated out of the players and concocted a drink that would replace it. Stuff was pretty bad-tasting at first; he admitted he puked the first time he drank it.