Sunday, March 01, 2009

A Post about Two Unrelated Things

I know some of you - okay, just Liane, as far as I know- don't like hearing what other people think heaven will be like, but just indulge me for a minute. ( And Liane, you can skip this paragraph. Or not read the entire post, if you wish. But there is a charming story you may enjoy further down.) You know what I'm reeeeeally looking forward to - among other things- about the hereafter? Lack of pettiness. Whatever heaven looks like, whatever form paradise assumes, I highly doubt we're going to be irritated with other souls. But just in case, to guard against even a tiny chance that heaven may be slightly vexing, my heaven will most likely be a hermitage for the first ten thousand years, bright shining as the sun.... When I want to encounter another soul, I will walk/fly/balloon to the part of heaven where everyone else lives, visit who I choose, go back to my chosen place of blissful exile and thus, I will acclimate myself to a happy eternity. After ten thousand years, I may move to a celestial small town ( I don't know about a celestial city- that's a bit much, even for heaven), but at first, I believe I will inhabit an island in the universe, my own little Monticello. ( Did you know that Thomas Jefferson was a bit of a homebody and hermit? It's true! Why does that make me feel vindicated?) So in case you're wondering where I am for a few millennia, I'm just letting you know ahead of time. Yep, that's what I'm looking forward to. That and not having to cook every day. I think I would be a much better cook if hunger did not exist and I only had to cook when I wanted, just for the sheer joy of culinary creation. This would probably happen only about two or three times a week.

Now, for something COMPLETELY different, the other day, Grandpa came upstairs for breakfast looking like he'd had a less-than-friendly run-in with Mike Tyson. There was blood on his nose. Not under his nose but on the bridge. I questioned him about it and he didn't know what had happened. When the subject came up later, he seemed a bit embarrassed but apparently he'd figured out what happened. It seems that he had a dream that Aiden had fallen down and Grandpa was trying to rescue him; in so doing, he fell out of bed. Poor Grandpa! But isn't that sweet? Even in his sleep, he's watching out for Aiden. The scabs of heroism remain apparent and I just hope the neighbors don't think I'm abusing him!

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

"Every man under his own vine and fig tree" or something like that. Where is that? Isaiah? Ezekiel? Somewhere in the Bible anyway...

And to make it fit more perfectly, you can just specify that those vine and fig tree combinations are separated from their neighbors by miles and miles, heavenly light years even, of uninterrupted space... : )

I rejoice with you in your future prospects! Sounds good to me :)