Funny, but when I first thought about blogging many moons ago, I used to worry about finding something to write about every day. That's why I was reluctant about getting into this. Silly, silly me. I'm never going to run out of stuff to write about. The world's too messed up, the fools too ubiquitous, the greed too rampant, and the meanness and hate too prevalent to ever run out of grist for this mill. And this is before you start considering all the good stuff: innumerable good, kind, and generous people; the awesome power of our creativity, both collective and individual; baseball, wine, and laughter. And little kids.
I spent a couple of hours this afternoon with my granddaughter dying Easter eggs. Yeah, yeah, I know we're a little off schedule. But that didn't bother her in the least. Just being in a five-year-old's world--even if I find it hard to stay there long (my dear wife is much better at it than I)--is tonic. She was so thoroughly into the moment. Not worried about where the American economy is going or the hideous war in Iraq or the clown at the head of our affairs of state. Just whether the egg was going to be pretty. Reminds me of what's important. Don't know about you.