I'm not saying it is and I'm not saying it isn't

...but the time for stopping this blog may be drawing near. One never knows. One just tries to go with the flow, and some days the flow is more like molasses (British: treacle) than spring water.

It's a long, long time from May to December, and the days grow short when you reach September.

So I've heard, and I partially believe it.

All three of my children are now over 50 years of age. My six grandchildren have all graduated from high school. Two of them have finished college and the other four are actively pursuing their degrees.

My new puppy is three already.

Time flies when you're having fun.

Ellie and I are working on Year 57 of The Rhymeswithplague Chronicles.

I have some very faithful readers whom I don't want to disappoint. Snowbrush in Oregon, Emma in Iowa, Pam in Washington State, for example. There are Kylie and Sue in Australia, Neil and Michelle in England, Adrian and Graham in Scotland. Red in Canada leaves an occasional comment, and so do Frances (England) and Kate (New Zealand). That nice lady in British Columbia used to, but she hasn't dropped by lately. Gary in England comments every once in a while. Elizabeth in England stays in touch via Facebook these days because the blogger gods continue to throw roadblocks in her path.

Not a huge crowd -- and there are others I'm forgetting, I'm sure -- but a faithful group who have enriched my life by hanging in there.

Not literally, of course. Figuratively.

Do send me a photo if you are hanging in there literally. I'd love to see it.

Some were here for a season but have vanished. Carol in Cairns. Carolina in Nederland. Daphne. Silverback. Helsie. Dr. John. Putz.

Some have shuffled off this mortal coil (to coin a phrase) and some have not shuffled off quite yet but neither have they checked in lately.

As Yul Brynner in the role of the King of Siam in The King and I so famously said, "Is...a puzzlement!"

Today I am waxing nostalgic and wondering what the future may hold.

I'm counting on the future being bright, at least for a while yet.

Stay tuned.

In closing, I want to say that I do understand that three, count 'em, three posts in a whole month do not a scintillating blog or a bestseller make.

If you think this is the most boring post you have read in a very long time, kindly keep it to yourself.

No, tell me. At least I'll know you're there.

Perspectives

Here are the words to the song "From A Distance" written in 1989 by Julie Gold:

From a distance the world looks blue and green
And the snow capped mountains white
From a distance the ocean meets the stream
And the eagle takes to flight

From a distance, there is harmony
And it echoes through the land
It's the voice of hope, it's the voice of peace
It's the voice of every man

From a distance we all have enough
And no one is in need
And there are no guns, no bombs, and no disease
No hungry mouths to feed

From a distance we are instruments
Marching in a common band
Playing songs of hope, playing songs of peace
They're the songs of every man

God is watching us, God is watching us
God is watching us from a distance

From a distance you look like my friend
Even though we are at war
From a distance I just cannot comprehend
What all this fighting is for

From a distance there is harmony
And it echoes through the land
And it's the hope of hopes, it's the love of loves
It's the heart of every man

It's the hope of hopes, it's the love of loves
This is the song of every man

And God is watching us, God is watching us
God is watching us from a distance
Oh, God is watching us, God is watching
God is watching us from a distance

[end of song lyrics]

Listen to Bette Midler sing it here (4:33) if you like.

Take a breath.

Now read a poem I wrote a few years ago:

Table Grace With Musings Afterward
by Robert H. Brague

“God is great, God is good;
Let us thank Him for our food.
By His hands we all are fed.
Thank you, Lord for daily bread. Amen.”
Okay, everybody, dig in!

.....God is deaf, God is blind
.....To the ills of humankind;
.....While we struggle here below,
.....Seraphim fly to and fro before his throne
.....Crying, “Holy, holy, holy, Lord God of hosts.
.....Heaven and earth are full of Thy glory.
.....Glory be to Thee, O Lord, Most High.”

.....Hogwash.

.....Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned.
.....Secula seculorum,
.....World without end,
.....Amen.

Please pass the butter.

.....And the angel said, “Hail, Mary, full of grace,
.....The Lord is with thee.”
.....(Closer than your next breath,
.....Nearer than a heartbeat.
.....With thee With thee WITH thee WITH thee...)

More coffee, anyone?

.....How is it
.....That a God so pure, so holy that He
.....Cannot look upon sin,
.....A God so high, so lifted up that His train alone
.....Filled an ancient temple,
.....Has turned from His headlong march in the opposite direction
.....And looked upon me?
..........(I believe in the Holy Spirit…)

.....How is it
.....That His single gaze pierced through
.....My carefully constructed armor?
..........(The holy catholic Church…)

.....And how, finally, is it
.....That His eyes, aflame like
.....Hot coals from an altar, yet filled with
.....Indescribable tenderness,
.....Can see everything and still, in the seeing,
......Forgive?
..........(The communion of saints…)

Cream and sugar?

.....It is not for us to know the times and seasons…
..........(The forgiveness of sins…)
...............Credo in unum Deum.

.....Now we see through a glass darkly, but then face to face…
..........(The resurrection of the body…)
...............Deum de Deo, Lumen de Lumine.

.....Then we shall know even as we are known.
..........(And the life everlasting.)
...............Deum Verum de Deo Vero.

,,,,,Neither do I condemn thee: Go and sin no more...
..........He knows. He loves. He forgives.
...............It is enough to know for the present.

Does anyone want dessert?

[end of poem]

Take another breath.

Julie Gold is not a theologian. Neither am I.

I’m fairly sure Bette Midler is not one either.

We are merely people with different perspectives.

What’s yours?

Mind numbingly hot

Not here. Other places, if the telly is to be believed. Pennsylvania. England.

It's August already and my blogging output seems to be slowing once again. After finally showing you my Dad in the previous post after all these years (12) my brain needed a rest.

Isaac Newton was right. Objects at rest tend to remain at rest, and objects in motion tend to remain in motion.

So I decided to bestir myself and post something even though there is not much about which to post, truth be told.

Hiroshima Day came and went yesterday with not a mention on the telly of what happened in Japan 74 years ago. Go figure. Of course, we don't watch much news. We watch Animal Planet and The Game Show Network mostly. Oh, and lots of home renovation shows on HGTV. And programs about families with dwarfism or parents with sextuplets on something called The Learning Channel which includes programs on many bizarre subjects I would have preferred not to learn about.

One wouldn’t expect to hear about the dropping of atomic bombs on such channels, now would one?

One wouldn’t.

So I will just wander (not lonely as a cloud, mushroom-shaped or otherwise) and see what happens.

We are leaving on Friday to spend a few days in Alabamistan at our daughter's residence. It is not in the same place as when last we went, as daughter is now the principal of an elementary school about two hours away from the area where she and her family have lived for the last quarter-century. Since her youngest son graduated from high school in May and will be attending the same university as his older brother, the decision to move was easier. And although her husband (our son-in-law) will be having a longer commute to his same job from a different direction, he is all in. They lived somewhat north of Birmingham and he works in one of the city's southern suburbs. His commute was already 45 minutes; now it will be about 30 minutes longer but through much lighter traffic. In Atlanta that would be considered an improvement.

Our daughter is getting a significant increase in salary as a result of the promotion from assistant principal to principal. But it is not all about the Benjamins. For non-U.S. readers, Benjamin Franklin's image is on our hundred dollar bills. To call hundred-dollar bills Benjamins is an example of either synecdoche or metonymy. I can never remember which and I don't feel like looking it up just now.

Maybe you could and let me know.

The general malaise, otherwise known as The Dog Days thanks to the positioning of the star Sirius in the night sky, continues.

Many things have been happening in the news of late, but I don't want to think about them.

I want to think about how much more pleasant an afternoon at the beach would be if only the sea weren't so salty.

Do you think my mind is going?

Vote YES or NO in the comments, and state your reasons for thinking so.

Out in Plano, Texas, where my stepbrother and his wife live, it will be over 100 degrees Fahrenheit every day this week.

Now that is truly mind numbingly hot. But it's a dry heat, of course.

Everybody says so.

For the record, I am voting YES.