Tabula rasa

Not much to blog today, or rather I don't have any big public issues to blog about. Other people are covering John Kerry's sugar plums in Cambodia story and arguing about the Patriot Act and covering the psycho-spiritual dimension of various things.

I saw some interesting articles, such as this one (Source: Godspy), but I'm too tired to do more than give it a link.

I went to bed early last night, intending to make up for lost sleep, and was awakened at 1 a.m. for a medical emergency. After the first emergency-room visit, years ago--hours of waiting to be seen by a doctor who is too busy and too unfamiliar with the patient--I came up with a family policy--"No emergency room visits." I would state the family policy whenever my daughters did something I thought looked dangerous: climbing trees over rocks--"Remember the family policy"; riding a skateboard--"Remember the family policy"; chasing each other down stairs--"Remember the family policy." It's a good policy, and though it hasn't eliminated the dreaded emergency room visits, I tell myself that it has cut the number. Maybe.

And then you get a kid who's actually sick and apologizing for violating the policy. Sheez. It's a policy, not a dogma. I'm not sure she comprehends the difference. But she's a sweet kid.

So we straggled home at 5:30 a.m. (no complaints about the medical staff this time; in fact, they were excellent; it just takes a long time). I e-mailed in to work that I'd be there late and went back to bed. (The daughter is much better, thank you, and thanks to the wonders of modern medicine. But I don't blog about the girls. )

And when I get home from work--at 7 p.m., after making up the time I missed this morning--the doggies aren't here. After searching the house and the yard, I ask about them and learn that they've gone off to the river with the other daughter (the emergency room policy applies to dogs, too), and it's amazing how quiet and empty the house seems without them. (It seems exceptionally busy and hopping with dogs when they're here, but . . . .) I think I must have looked a little like them, wandering from room to room looking for the missing family members.

So, as you can see, my mind is a blank, tabula rasa, and if I ever had anything interesting to say, it isn't tonight. Tomorrow, perhaps, the illusion of profundity will return.