Happy
Thursday, and this one is being celebrated on
March 19, 2026. I do hope all is well with you as we continue our journey here on the planet. Yep. That's me in the boat. I put myself there with the help of the a.i. utility, ChatGPT. The caption speaks for itself, however, the boat reminded me of a saying I heard growing up, "Son, you are up a creek without a paddle." Which, as most of you likely know, 'is an idiom describing a person in a very difficult, serious or hopeless situation with no easy way to escape or fix it. It implies being trapped without necessary resources or control. The
phrase often refers to a predicament where one has made a mistake or
faces a crisis with no solutions, similar to being stranded in a boat
with no means to move it'. I can't be sure but where I grew up some may have said it like this, "Son, you are up a crick without a paddle." That little word change is actually a well recognized c
olloquialism in use in a variety of rural American communities. As for the hat, I think I bought it for our trip to Scotland back in the mid 1990's. I still have it, however, it has been used by nearly all our grands and I'll put it to you this way, "It has been turned every way but loose." It's been a detective hat, an explorer's hat, a cowboy or cowgirl hat, and no telling how many other adventures it has seen. Our great grands will soon be old enough to give it a go. I can still remember our first grand, Tiffany, when she would wear my raincoat and that hat investigating whatever crimes she could imagine. Come to think about it, I believe I still have that raincoat too. The wife recently raided my closet under the guise of organizing my stuff. It was very painful to see it all being tossed here and there. Here's a little preview, "Do you realize how many shirts you have that still have the tags attached to them?" Me: "Yeah, I need to decide when I might wear them." And, as we like to say here in the burbs, the beat goes on and on and on.
I started to say that I might have said to the wife of my youth as she, like the title above, was undertaking her organizing and discarding pilgrimage, "Physician heal thyself." (I do believe she has at least 2 plus closets of her own to declutter.) Just saying. A few years ago she carried off several boxes of our tax records that were only twenty or more years old. To me they were a family history of sorts. To her, they were stuff occupying space in the office closet. Rarely, okay, very rarely, I would look back to those records from the mid 1960's and relive how we could make it on less than $5,000 per year. She took the records over to Louisiana to her sister's acreage where the wife is known for loving to start big fires. There she burned up those and she is ready to even take more for burning. She is. She really is. She thinks I am a charter member of the procrastination club, however, I haven't taken the time yet to even think about that claim. I will get around to it at some time in the future. I will admit I do have a fairly messy office. Okay. I said it. At the same time, I will leave you with what research and scientific study has found, "A messy office often indicates a highly creative, albeit potentially disorganized, mind, frequently linked to unconventional thinking, high productivity, and a focus on new ideas rather than strict order. However, it can also be perceived by others as a sign of low conscientiousness, stress, poor time management, or a lack of professional care." The wife would land in the 'however' category but here's the wonderful thing about it all: Sixty one years and counting, with all our differences, we somehow make it work. And, I thank God for her every single day. I do. I really do. Take care now, you hear, or you might just end up finding yourself up the creek without a paddle. May God bless each one.
Amen.
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