It's just an ordinary Saturday.
You know the kind, 'open the eyes when clock-timer-dog says wake up, yawn, prop the eye lids open, look out the window'. That kind.
There are no deer at the foot of the garden this morning. It's actually spring, but it's still cool and a bit gray. The cold air smells fresh. The lawn is greening a bit and there are a couple of lonesome white and yellow daffodils out.
I inspect the garden out of habit, looking for deer tracks. There are none.
Out in the garden, the fall-planted garlic is 10" high already. It was peeping through the last snowfall.
I must take Tilly the Tall and Ebony the Short (TTT and ETS) down the trails for their morning dog-a-thon. It's cool outside, even huddled inside a jacket. Too early and wet to garden, the chilly wet morning
It's a good one. I know, it's just a typical escapist N.W. Ontario morning plan. Procrastinate. Stay in and drink coffee. Read. Maybe some toast and jam, the homemade strawberry kind.
The pups are already flat-back schmoozing, that took about a minute after the towel-down. They're worn out after morning dilly-dallying and incessant play.
The clock ticks softly. The coffee smells good. The plan is shaping up fine.
I settle in and read. I enjoy reading, it's one of my hobbies. I collect 'bits and bobs' ( Brit. slang )--information, that would be, but my loyal readers know it's construction material for Incoming Bytes.
It's amazing how much information, knowledge, and variety is out there. Web sites. Word mills. Blogs, thousands of them. Musings. Short stories, articles, opinions big and small, the soothing rhythm and charm of souls poetic .
Some articles I envy, the kind I wish I could write sometimes; serious efforts at repairing humankind. Let's make that mankind; I have to be honest, I don't appreciate the hypocrisy of PC jargon. Politicized
I read technical articles, fiction, and pretty much everything that catches the eye. News. Columnists. How to write. Train the muse to dance with two left feet and write faster. How to write when the stubborn muse is on strike and refuses to cooperate. How to do woodwork, build shelves, stairs or lay ceramic. How to pan for gold. All about bonsai, you know, the little trees in pots. That's one of my hobbies. I could learn to tan a hide, grow stuff, facet diamonds, rebuild a diesel engine, crochet, or construct a chicken-wire fence.
I cannot hope to ever read all of the classics, old literature or complicated technical content I would like to. I tend to soak it up, and digest it, but it becomes relegated to it's status, it's pecking order in life; perhaps waylaid, it's relevance lost in the brain temporarily. Recall comes to mind. Restore when needed. File nine.
Creativity, art, substance, questions, the human condition exacerbates the human reality at times; persistent content sticks in the mind, if reluctantly. Is there a better day for remembering stuff?
The blogosphere doesn't discriminate. Saturday or Wednesday, Tuesdays or Friday. No matter. Monday, Thursday, or Sunday, they're all out of order anyway.
Which day is better to read, observe, and listen? Can the brain ever be filled to capacity? I cannot imagine how. The mind stalling at capacity could ruin this very ordinary Saturday.
I wonder why I cannot read faster, too. It would be handy. I already 'speed read', but not nearly fast enough. Skimming pages, sites, blogs. Look up words unknown, get the context right, the online dictionary comes in handy for that.
The unexpected. Surprises. Interruptions. I know; at times we must suffer wonderful cinnamon buns instead of cookies, but that's life, that's what's in the oven. The construction of life itself. Baking. Saturday morning stuff.
Now to do something different. Review the A to Z Challenge. Twenty-six posts.
We did it. I actually survived and completed it. I met some wonderful writers in the process, great bloggers, read a lot of excellent writing, and learned an awful lot. I received great and kind comments here at Incoming Bytes. I do thank everyone for their kindness, consideration, and dedication. Back to the xylography of ordinary life if such a beast exists.
Shall I play with the pups some more?
Nope, they're still sleeping. Running around all day can be tiring, I better let them save some energy.
Like me, they'll need it. Why not teach old dogs new tricks?
Anything is possible--later.
Meantime the coffee and cinnamon buns call clearly on this very ordinary Saturday, and a little snooze might work too. Oh..almost 2:00 pm......time must be broken.....
Is that incoming I hear?