Silence Is Golden, So I've Heard

I can’t think of a thing to blog about. After all that time promoting myself as having a lot to say, I’m plumb out of ideas. I have blown all my steam. I am dumbstruck. I am bumfuzzled.

Stumped.  

Why would I keep writing when I am out of words? I know I don’t like to listen to the woman seated next to me at the doctor’s office when she clearly has nothing to say, yet she cannot hush. She just goes on and on and on. I nod and feign interest. And mentally make my grocery list. I don’t want to be like that. I don’t want to bore my four friends.

Pointless.

I’ve written about my sisters and my children and my daddy, and Lord knows, I have milked the Pinckard Cow dry. So, that’s it. That’s all she wrote. (HAHAHAHA! Heavens, I do think I’m funny. But I don’t think anybody else does. They’re all just humoring me. HAHAHAHAHA!)

Rambling.

“Enough is as good as a feast,” Mary Poppins said. I think King Solomon said something like, “Hush occasionally.” I have never cared for the book of James that wants me to guard my tongue. Or fingers, as it were.

Clueless.

It’s not that I don’t know how or when to be quiet. I do. I have watched other people do it for years. Like Mama always said, “If you don’t have anything to say, don’t say anything at all.” That might have been Forrest Gump’s mama. Regardless, it is good advice that I frequently adhere to, especially when Chuck claps his hands at me and says, “Man version!”

Uninspired.

So, I will just sit here in silence. No tap, tap, tapping on the keyboard. No chuckles to myself. “Blessed are the quiet” is a Beatitude, I think. That’s me.

Speechless.