I'm finding that blogging is a feast or famine venture. Sometimes nothing seems interesting enough to write about. Today--thanks to the creative minds of my creative friends--yielded a bumper crop of riches.

As an appetizer, here are some reflections from my dear friend, MaryCatherineFullofGrace. Having read my previous days diatribe on dieting and whittling down one's middle aged frame, she offered this thoughtful perspective which she has graciously allowed me to reproduce (below). More from me later--I have a date with a pair of boxing gloves:

You know I made my argument about the gear shifters in cars to anyone who would listen; the D should be an F for forward; drive implies steering in my opinion. Personally I don’t know anyone who "reverses", you back up—it should be B. I’ll give you the N for neutral, but in my own mind it stands for No-where. But, with all this health and weight talk in the papers, I’ve abandoned the gear shift for a more recent campaign. I think a radical change should be made to the "sizing chart". First by shape and then by size—allow me an example: big bust/no hips (like that happens much) should be G for golf tee shaped. We can keep Pear shaped, but isn’t it really kind of cruel to fashion someone’s size after a food? One with carbs no less? Then there is the no bust, no hips—T, as in two by four. Big bust, big waist, big hips? F—fridge (but then we are kind of back to the cruel irony, aren’t we?). Then, there’s mine—A for amoeba. The one with consecutive rolls and dimples everywhere. I would be an AL—Amoeba/Large. At least this way you could cut your shopping time in half. You would never pick up that attractive sheath dress to try on if you knew you were a solid amoeba, right? Not only would it save time, it would save your self-esteem! Well, whatever, I’m off to have ½ of a light bagel and a small glass of ruby red grapefruit juice. I just thought I would share.