There Is No Blogging Quite So Sweet...

as that which is ill-advised. "Forbidden Blogging," I like to say. In light of the fact that I really should be using this time before the keyboard to fling about a little of the poo and craft myself something vaguely resembling a paper for Wednesday night's class, I shall be brief. I probably shouldn't be here at all.

But who am I to resist the sweet call of the on-line chit chat? Besides, I didn't actually do the teacher observation upon which I am supposed to be basing this paper so I'm sort of screwed anyway. But I really should try to get something on paper. Winking at the professor, pointing to my noggin and muttering sagely, "It's all up here, baby" is not likely to impress her. I think she is looking for something a bit more concrete...

So, in light of the time constraints and the need for me to put my brain power towards inventing an observation that will pass for something that happened in the real world, I give you:

A List Of Things I Have:

*A truck that is not working particularly well. It did not like the last bout of weather and is determined to make me understand this. I may have pushed it too far with my "tough love" approach to vehicle maintenance. I think this one is going to cost me more than the value of a bottle of dry gas.

*The ghostly impression of a pair of fellows known as Bob and Larry on the back of my left hand in fluorescent pink marker. I did not want Bob and Larry on my left hand. Nor on my right. Nor anywhere else on my person. But the sixth grade girl who drew them there was nothing if not persistent in her arguments on why I should be open to the idea. I had work to do. It was submit to the artwork or listen to another ten minutes of her wheedling. Now it won't come off.

*The deep and disturbing impression that the principal (who is scarily eagle-eyed) caught me accepting a piece of gum from the same artistic student. Gum is bad. Gum is forbidden. I am not supposed to chew the gum. I am supposed to confiscate it and punish the little smuggler to the fullest extent of the school code of conduct. But I like gum. And I'm a grown-up. I'm pretty sure I can be responsible with it. Well...the last time she gave me gum I put it in my pocket, forgot about it and washed it with my jacket. But I don't see how this affects the principal.

*A list of upcoming meetings as long as my arm. None of which I am really prepared for. Maybe the truck will follow through on its threats and just die on me. That might buy me some time...

*But all of the above mean nothing. Nothing at all. For I, Spinning Sheep Extraordinaire, have this:

And all is right with the world.

I shall keep it by my side tonight for periodic petting and inspiration as I use all my Sheepie wiles to somehow make an observation that never happened a reality. It will stand as silent testimony to that which is possible from my brain and my hands. It will inspire me with its beauty and its very existence. It will speak to that deep, dark part of me that knows I am capable of greatness...

See? Sheep shovel wicked good!

SA