It’s dangerous, but I’ve been thinking about stuff lately. I mean about important stuff and not just trivial things. You know world changing things like should I get a hair cut or finally let it grow long enough to tie in a pony tail. If I did that, what kind of tie-dyed tee-shirts would I wear? Should I get ones with big yellow swirls or maybe some red and blue blotchy ones.
I guess I’d have to make my own if I wanted to do it right. I’m just not sure what to do with the left over dye – is it okay to just let it go down the drain and let the water treatment plant deal with it? I could dig a hole in the backyard and pour it in there, but that might kill my plants. What would happen if I poured the old dye near the tomatoes and then I eat one of those tomatoes – would it be deadly or just make me sick?
There’s a lot to think about, when you think about it. Like, how much of myself should I reveal on this blog and how do I not start every sentence with “I.” It’s a personal essay blog so it’s easy to say, “I” and “Me” a lot. Well, given that I write in first person that is. Maybe I could write this personal stuff in third person – that would stop me from using “I”. Well, no, that might be too weird.
Weird is one reason why I don’t talk about certain personal things on this blog. I know many of you have this idea that I spend all day writing, quilting, working in the yard and building stuff in my workshop like some modern hyper-enlightened renaissance man. I just wonder if you’d be shocked to learn that I put almond milk on my cereal, eat popcorn when watching TV and that I don’t eat ice cream. I used to eat ice cream, but then I stopped and politely refuse any ice cream people want to serve me. This includes whipped cream, I don’t eat whipped cream. Do you eat or drink or slurp whipped cream?
This isn’t to say that I don’t like ice cream or whipped cream – well that’s not true, I don’t like either anymore. Ice cream upsets my tummy and whipped cream is just weird. I don’t make a big deal out of it or demand that ice cream factories be shutdown. I know that I should be involved in the mission of all hyper-enlightened renaissance men to seek justice, awareness and accommodation for ice cream-free people everywhere. I know I’ve been falling down there as I’ve not even filled a lawsuit against Starbucks for that time when they put whipped cream on my hot chocolate after I said, “No whipped cream.”
I know, you’re all now disappointed in me and will likely stop following this blog.
Now, in the name of full disclosure, I should mention that I cut my finger in the workshop last week. Yeah, a perfect woodworker, following all the safety rules shouldn’t cut a finger, but I did. I’ve compounded the failure by not posting a long video about it on YouTube or calling my lawyer to get the product liability lawsuit going or at least post on Nextdoor about the dangers of using power tools. I did think about posting a picture of the wound here on this blog, but sadly my camera just doesn’t have the magnification to show anything that small.
I was going to write a serious post about important stuff I was thinking of, but that got sidetracked when I found that my barber doesn’t have an appointment opening this week and I’d have to go at least another week without a haircut.
So, I promise, after my haircut, I’ll be back to share with you how we’ll save the world and create universal love and a peace on earth that will last until we colonize Mars.