At Least They're Committed

A word game! How marvelous! So I am to come up with text in which the above words comfortably rest or blend. Delightful. It reminds me of when, in high school, we had to write an essay that included several random words, such as beans. I took such joy in writing it, I made it funny, crass and sassy and I cracked myself up in the process! Much to my dismay, the teacher then informed us that we would read our essays aloud to the class. Horrors! I could just see myself up there, laughing my ass off and everyone just staring, stone faced. I fretted about it for days as, one by one, Mr. Madson called pupil after pupil to the front of the room to read his or her essay. He never called on me. Was it an act of God or an act of mercy? I’ll never know.

Not knowing can be a good thing, methinks. Honestly, knowing people are going to die on the East Coast is troubling to an oversensitive soul such as myself. Colleen, in Norfolk, has reported it’s 85 degrees and sunny at the moment; they’re supposed to be right in the thick of Hurricane Irene within a day. There’s no escaping for her and John: they’re journalists, they’ll wade through the streets if they must  to get to work and inform the masses. It’s rather like being a fireman or a priest.

The reports are warning that New York will be badly rattled. There’s no boarding up sky scrapers and as the 100 mph winds thrust against the high towers, there are projections that falling glass will be more than a trifling factor. I fear for the street folk. I fear for the children. I fear for my children, who now seem to be living in a world that is trying to reclaim itself and has grown weary of our presence! Earthquake on Tuesday, hurricane on Saturday, is it Armageddon? Could be! But, what would you bet that — just as they’ve come to realize God’s “days” of creating the Earth via The Big Bang were actually millions of years — we’ve got a couple thou left before we’re all dust.