Lost in Nowhere

A.A. Milne says there is no harder work than fetching an idea from nowhere. Tell me about it. Probably headed for A.A. Walton says it's even harder to find a funny one. How 'bout this? I remember when 'roids were hemm and not sterr. That's funny, right?

I haven't touched my guitar since last September. It sits in the corner dying from lack of affection. (The verb for to touch in Spanish is the same as the verb for to play an instrument, tocar.) Since I contracted my less than magical mystery ailment dubbed Moses for its longevity, I have lacked both the focus and the energy to play it. Shame on me I say, and shame on Moses. No golf, no guitar. Maybe I'm just giving up on things that start with the letter g.

In the information for no reason department there is this: I read on Yahoo this weekend that most running shoes are as bad for your legs as high heels. That's good to know. Now we can all chuck our sneaks and be taller.

The NFL playoffs are down to four teams only one of which has never been to the Super Bowl, New Orleans. Go Saints. I like their Fleur de Lis logo.

Okay, I've now spent half an hour and two cups of coffee wandering around nowhere trying to fetch an idea. I don't think there are any good ones in my neighborhood. Wait! What if I wrote about a boy and his stuffed toys. I could name his bear Poo and his tiger Tygger and the boy himself could have a catchy name like Christopher Robin. What, you say? Milne has already done that? It is as I suspected. All the good ideas are gone.

I guess I'll just have to write about 'roids. Which kind do you want to hear about?