I have a theory, and it goes like this…
Four Days Later… I wrote that on Monday night and promptly fell asleep. It is now Friday and I have no idea what that theory was. Time has been slipping by so fast, and I can hardly sit still for 20 minutes because there’s something to be doing. That “something” is hardly ever writing on this blog, which is unfortunate. What if that theory was the theme of the next great American novel?
I wasn't as bad as this kid.
Well, at least I have another theory to entertain us, and it is this: I love telling stories. Especially old family stories that I’ve told a million times and have down to a verbal art. This was a revelation that hit me on Tuesday afternoon as I sat in the dentist chair to have a crown put on a cracked molar. The dental hygienist mentioned that she had gone to the Biltmore Mansion on her trip through North Carolina, and I half mumbled that I had a good story to tell her when I was not so high on laughing gas.
I then sat musing on stories and how much I love telling them for what seemed like hours, and it all seemed very poetic and profound, but that’s because my brain cells were being killed off for lack of oxygen. So, when I regained the use of the remainder of my brain as well as my limbs (and you can’t tell a good story without your hands), I told Mickey the old family tale of how we were escorted off the grounds of the Biltmore mansion because my little brother, Alexander, was sketching the statues in the garden.
And now the story is even better. Apparently, they’ve changed the signs at the Biltmore. They no longer only prohibit food, animals, and photography, but also insist on “No Sketching.” So good going, kiddo.
