Horseshoes, hand-grenades and a lollipop

I am in one of those modes where I feel I need to write something, but have no idea what I want to write. So I am going to just start the fingers going on the keyboard and see where I end up. I did the unusual and actually started with a title. Rarely works that way for me. But prompted by my friend Kathy’s recent post This Title Sucks, I just thought up a random phrase to see where it gets me. Who knows, maybe whatever I write here will actually relate to the title.

I have wandered through some of my favorite blogs again. Seeing if they filled me with my own bit o’ blogging wisdom. And in the way of it some of the posts I read are feeding the wispy thoughts trying to work their way out of me. Yet the thoughts are still not concrete. They are like the electric tingling on the skin as a thunder-storm is about to approach. They bring the sense of pending greatness; of some vast unknown potential.

Sister Lisa is afloat in a sea of creation, trying to find the fresh nourishment in its salty abundance. “Water, water everywhere … but not a drop to drink?” Yet she quenches the thirst with her most recent post.

Friend Mark struggles with a life changing decision, while at the same time reminded how simple life really can be.

Friend Tori gets a fresh perspective; a case of expectations meeting reality. She too is in the midst of creating something unique and wonderful, yet sadly is stumbling across the worst wrong turn in human thinking, instant mistrust.

Creative minds doing their best to plant seeds and grow a beautiful garden. Yet at the same time the winds are blowing in, catching the seeds and carrying them away. The comments on these varying posts, by other purveyors of creation, are nourishing this garden. Yet the winds persist. We all seem to be in a realm of almost. Just out of grasp.

Ah.  A meaning for the title. As the saying goes: almost only counts in horseshoes and hand-grenades.

I seem to have arrived somewhere, though I am not sure where. I feel as if I’m sitting on my deck, feet up, looking out on the garden that is emerging beyond.

Does anyone want a lollipop?