Say, Have I Mentioned My Son, Fastolph?

I often have this vision: God has precious, brand new baby souls that are about to be sent to earth on an assembly line. He is touching their sweet little heads and gifting them with the grace of common sense. He reaches Fastolph and St. Michael calls God and “Hey God, we need your help! That Moloch roused Ted Kennedy out of a drunken stupor and he’s talking again…Words coming from his mouth-not a good thing.” So God looks away from the assembly line for just an instant and accidently misses Fastolph. Poor Fastolph gets jipped the Common Sense grace.
OK, OK. I know the Ted Kennedy thing was bad taste. And I know God doesn’t make mistakes. But I tell ya, this kid brings this imagery to mind-a lot.
Our farm, prior to our living here was an ostrich farm. In the chick barn, there was an incubator filled with ostrich eggs. The first task my husband accomplished was to get rid of these old eggs. Have you ever seen an ostrich egg? Think big. Think dinosaur eggs.
Now the kids like to explore the farm which is usually OK. They have found things that little boys find fascinating like an ostrich skeleton in the fields. Yesterday Fastolph stumbled upon an old ostrich egg in the fields. Now everyone knows if you find a teeny little old chicken egg, you don’t want to break it. We have lived here nearly two years. You don’t want to break an old rotten ostrich egg, do you? Do you see where I am going with this? As if he wasn’t stinky enough from the skunk!
I feel the need to blog about these events to keep a record to look back on and have a good laugh. My mother says I just print out this journal one day, edit it and publish it.