"This morning I plan to blog about nothing," I said.
"That's it," she said. "Not good morning, Miss Wonderful? Just walk out and begin talking about nothing?"
I held up a hand to indicate that what I was about to say was off topic and not to become the topic. "Not Miss Wonderful," I said. "That would be the love interest of a boy in middle school. Ms Wonder is the correct sobriquet and it's an honorific for one who works in mysterious ways her wonders to perform.
She clicked her tongue, got off her meditation cushion, and gave me a couple of whacks on the back. "Feel better now?" she said. "Think you can talk like a 21st century Carolinian?"
"Did you say, Canadian?"
"Carolinian," is what I said.
"Then I'll try," I said. "I don't think I could manage Canadian this early in the day. It's the dipthongs."
"Oh, God, help me," she said and it did leave me wondering why but you're surely aware that this woman, no matter how strong a leading lady she may be, loves to practice subterfuge and misdirection and it's my job to ignore it. Still, I wonder why she said, 'Oh, God, help me'.
"At any rate," I said, "the Muse reminded me about de nihilo nihilum, blah, blah, blah..."
Now she held up a hand. "Please," she said. "It's way too early in the morning for this conversation. Table it for the afternoon. Maybe I'll be ready to listen after a walk around the lake."
Well, I don't have to explain to you how that made me feel. A blow too low was my opinion. Too early for conversation! What would you have done in my position? Not that you ever are, of course.
I chose to end the conversation and you would have done the same, I'm sure if you were in the same situation. After all, we aren't orangutans or howler monkeys. No offense, if you're partial to our primate cousins. I merely use them as examples of what we're not.
I chose to end the conversation and you would have done the same, I'm sure if you were in the same situation. After all, we aren't orangutans or howler monkeys. No offense, if you're partial to our primate cousins. I merely use them as examples of what we're not.
I took a seat on the sofa and made preparations for the arrival of a cat. In seconds, there was a cat. But not from nothing. There was an unseen, unknown cat and then there was a known cat. Do you see where I'm going with this?
"What did you say about a cat?" she said and I was as surprised as you are. I remember wondering if I'd spoken out loud.
"Not a cat," I said. "I'm thinking about the big bang. First, there was no universe and then there was. Do you see what I mean?"
"Oh, I love that show," she said. "Have you seen the one where they go to the Star Trek convention?"
"No, no, no! Not the Big Bang Theory! It's the beginning of everything that I'm thinking about!"
"Oh, I get it,' she said. "You're talking about something coming from nothing."
"Yes!" I said. "Thank you. I'm talking about the Catholic concept of creatio ex nihilo or..."
"No, you're not," she said, "and stop talking in italics. You're planning, unless I miss my guess, to begin some deep drivel about how the universe could not come from nothing. Because only nothing comes from nothing.
You probably want to make the argument that the very idea of something from nothing requires some all-powerful outside force with conscious intent.
You probably want to say something like, the latest scientific thinking about the big bang is built on the foundations of the same original miracle upon which the Catholic concept of creation is built. Am I right?"
You probably want to make the argument that the very idea of something from nothing requires some all-powerful outside force with conscious intent.
You probably want to say something like, the latest scientific thinking about the big bang is built on the foundations of the same original miracle upon which the Catholic concept of creation is built. Am I right?"
"Well, yes, since you put it like that," I said.
"Let there be!" she said with a grand flourish. "BIG Bang!"
I stared at the woman and I was speechless. Once again, when I thought I had a new perspective to share, she demonstrated that she knows everything. I suppose it shouldn't surprise me.
No, I shouldn't be surprised because I've learned that she knows all about any subject you throw her way. Still, I thought it might be fun to test her once again.
"Poopsie," I said, "you remember that thing I quoted when this conversation began?"
"You mean, from nothing, nothing can come?" That quote? Persius," she said. "Probably Etruscan."
"Like the Gherardinis," I said.
"Don't flatter yourself," she said. "It's not like they were your grandparents, or anything." Then seeing, no doubt, the shadow that moved across my face, she added, "But there is hope for you yet."
"Of course," I said. But I didn't say it with any real chirpiness.
"See?" she said, and I had no idea then, and I still have no idea what she meant by it.
"By the way," I said, "I get that Persius guy confused with Perseus, the one that whacked off the Medusa's head.
"I know, you do," she said and then in her characteristic way she changed the subject like changing the sheets. "Let's go to Lake Gaston. The Virginia side this time," she said.
"Of course, the Virginia side," I said. "I care only for your happiness, Wonder."
"Sure you do," she said, and I was happy that we could finally agree on something.