I'm staying home with the armadillos (a subtle Jerry Jeff Walker reference)

Saturday. Sofa. Coffee.

It has been an odd week. And this will be an odd post. A bit personal, so you don't have to read it if your looking for a fight or anything relevant. I just need the cheap therapy.

I walked out of my house Thursday morning and there was a community of armadillos mining for grubs in my front yard. (I wonder if that is the derivation of the old gold mining term "grubstake") I walked toward them, thinking they would turn tail and waddle full speed away, but they didn't. They looked up at me with disdain, apparently irritated by my presence, but feeling no compulsion to move on. I walked up to several of them and the reaction was the same, each looking up their scary little noses covered with some kind of scaly shield at me for a second, turning their back, and sticking their snouts back into the ground.

This is the point in the post that I usually draw an analogy from the experience. I am just too tired this morning to think that hard. Feel free to complete the exercise if you wish. I know there are many ways to go with it.

Part of the oddness of the week resulted from a doctor telling me bright and early Monday morning that I had to rest for a few days. Take it easy. No stress. If he wasn't one of the nicest people I know I probably would have slapped him upside the head, another indication that I had let things get a bit out of control. The week was fully booked with things that absolutely had to be done. And my brain was fully occupied with other troubles, rolling down a track like a fully loaded coal train. Once it gets rolling that fast it is a bit ridiculous to stand in front of the engine waving your arms and expecting it to stop. But that is what he wanted me to do. And when this gentle doctor said my current situation was "intolerable" I knew he was serious. He is not an alarmist. So I sort of jumped off the train.

I suppose if you are on a runaway train the options are limited. The momentum of the train is formidable, created by the weight of a long line of fully loaded cars. If there were only one, stopping might be an option. But the train is long and the course is set so taking a different direction is not an option. Staying on the train may be okay for a little while longer, but when it reaches the washed out trestle over the deep gorge nothing good can happen, and jumping off at that point really won't help.

So jumping off early is the best option. But the landing hurts.

But, after jumping off and the tumbling landing ended, I noticed something.

The world around me wasn't moving so fast. In fact it seemed to be quite still. The fastest thing moving is the kudzu growing at the edge of the yard, followed closely by the poison oak. And the armadillos didn't seem to be in a hurry to go anywhere. I guess the reason they weren't afraid is that they had been there for days, it was just hard to see them from the window of a speeding train.

I have complained that the world is moving too fast, that it is hard to keep up with everything. But it may not be the world that is moving too fast. It is me.

And the problem with moving faster and faster to get to the next important destination is that everything in between is just a blur if it is noticed at all. And that it is too bad because the stuff I am missing may be the most important stuff. Or maybe it is not important for everything to be important.

I couldn't stay off the train. There really were important things to be done and troubles to be addressed. So I cautiously stepped back on late in the week. But I'll keep my hand on the brake and won't stoke the coal burner quite so full in hopes that it won't be so hard to get off from time to time.

For friends and family who may be reading this, do not worry. I am not terminal (the train analogy is really popping this morning). At least no more than we are all terminal, as far as I know. Just a small blood pressure issue which I am addressing.

But if ever I seem to be moving too fast, please, reach up, pull me from the train, and slap me upside the head.

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