Thursday, February 22, 2007

What A Numbskull

Do you ever just sit and stare and recognize you don't have a thought in your head, except for the recognition of emptiness? Is it a chemical thing, I wonder, or maybe there just isn't enough oxygen being pushed up toward the top of my head. Or maybe I need to reboot. Whatever the reason, yesterday I didn't form a single cohesive thought to be expressed on my home page, and it was kind of like a blog vacation.

My sister called late in the afternoon to see if something was wrong--she is a regular reader and was shocked to find Tuesday's post where Wednesday's post should be. Nope. Everything is fine--and not fine in the socially acceptable sense--I just didn't have anything to say. Not a stinking thing. I occupied my time with a little of this and a little of that, sailing through blissfully completing tasks as assigned. The office person asked for a file--here you go, early even. Dinner? Have a carmelized onion quiche. Catbox is dirty? Not anymore. Kid has a concert? Lovely. What did I think about all of it? Nothing.

When I was a kid and would stumble across days like this, I would go outside regardless of the weather and feel the ground. During the summer, I would lay in the grass in my front yard (back in the day before I was afraid of crawling things) and watch the clouds go by--literally--watch the clouds as they moved West to East, reshaping and bumping into each other, melding and disappearing. Sometimes the neighbor kids would join me, and we would solve the world's troubles from the point of view of a 10 year old while laying in the grass and looking up.

In the winter, I would put myself in the foot-deep snow in that same front yard and make angels or snow families or piles and piles of snow balls with no one to hurl them toward.

In the spring, riding my bike through big puddles with my feet stuck straight out was the thing to do on a numbskull day.

In the fall, my neighborhood gang would pile up leaves and plow through them, only to pile them up again--rake and scatter, rake and scatter, rake and scatter, with no other agenda but the activity.

Ahh. Here's to numbskull days--it's a shame they don't come around more often.


dive said...

Numbskull days sure are a luxury when you're all growed up and tangled up in family and work.
I hope you just lay back and enjoyed your numbskull day, Robyn.
Here's to more of them.

Sassy Sundry said...

I love numbskull days. I've been having a few of them lately. I don't like posting about absolutely nothing (unless that nothing is delightful), and I needed a bit of time to recharge. Plus, I've been a bit giddy of late.

Dear Prudence said...

Last night my friend and I were just discussing how much those days of meaningless, fabulous, non-responsibility ridden meanderings are missed now that adulthood has stolen them from us. We played the “don't ya wish” game about a few different things. I personally would only want to go back to 1983 when I was living in Lahina, Hawaii-(Maui)and had no one to answer to except for myself. Sometimes I really miss that.

Rich said...

there does seem to be a lack of numbskull days for kids now. My kids don't ever do the things I did when I was a kid. (hmmm in some cases I hope they don't).

Robyn said...

Dive, here here.

Sassy, and we are giddy on your behalf as well.

Prudence, I'm pretty sure I wouldn't want to return to the 10-year-old days because then I would have to through the 16-year-old days too, and high school sucked. But I don't mind taking a numbskull day at this age once in a while.

Rich, be careful what you wish for, I guess, and what interests you pass on to those kids.

Miz Minka said...

I like the "numbskull" moments in the early morning, the pre-getting-up twilight time before my brain has a chance to start making lists or thinking of things to do. It reminds me of the time as a kid when I would lie on the summer grass and look at the wind blow through the birch trees above. No meaningful thoughts, simply being. Sometimes it's really refreshing to just "be" and not "do" something all the time. Here's to more numbskull days and not feeling the pressure to blog daily. (Ha!)

Gigi in Lodi

Gina said...

Hello, these past two weeks have been numbskull ones for me, so don't be hard on yourself!

Utsav said...

Who better to know about numbskull days than someone who had absolutely nothing to say for three weeks? Not even a comment. It's liberating, really, from the overtime the brain tends to do the other days.