The early worm and other stories

If the early bird is the one that gets the worm, doesn't that mean the worm must be even earlier to the scene?

I stumbled across this gruesome sight this morning on my quest to get my steps:

Kind of made me pity both the bird that surely rejected the dried up morsel and the worm who met such a bitter end on the Monon Trail.

For a while, I pondered what could this mean in the greater context of life. Was it a more a Darwinian moral than Aesop? 

Was the lesson to not emerge until the weather had proven reliable? Not to burst forth to grasp opportunity when it seemed to be there?

Or was it merely that this was a worm of less intelligence and athleticism than its peers; one destined to wind up carcass rather than champion lawn aerator?

Was it, rather, just a worm? The world may never know.

Here's something you can know, however: The common phrase, "The early bird gets the worm," dates back beyond the 17th Century. A naturalist named John Ray snagged it for a book title in 1670, suggesting it was a phrase considered clever enough to entice readers.

Which brings me the subject of reading. A story from Inc. magazine, based on a new study, suggests that if you read nonfiction, you'll live longer. As you know, the Captain thinks I take on the world's problems and try to fix them. Who knew I could help you live longer?

Read my books -- get them from Amazon right here -- and you won't become a dry, dessiccated shell of a former living, breathing, active creature.

You're welcome.

In other news, my time with Girl Talk has ended, and I was delighted to be joined this week by Alison and my Book Club pals Jennifer Dunlap and Kate Shepherd. Kate and Jen, along with Niki Kelly Lohrmann joined me for week 2, and Ali came for the final week when we judged how well the girls had progressed since we first talked about speaking with confidence.

It was tremendous. Each of the five girls came for each session, and each one had made great strides in getting their points across.  On the drive home, Ali lamented that she'd rejected my offers for her to come with for the first two weeks.

 Getting back to the worm metaphor, Jeff sent me a note early in the week asking me to check out an email he'd gotten purportedly from his first serious girlfriend. It was unexpected, sent to his work, and he (and his office) is hyper sensitive to outside emails for malware and other conspiracy theory reasons.

Sure, I'd be happy to check that out, I said. Which, of course, led to a series of fun email exchanges with my husband's one-time love. (Long-time readers may recall an exchange a few years ago with Mrs. Reed 1.0 who wasn't nearly as pleasant.) I've never met Caroline in person but I have had heard more than a few stories about her.

Anyway, I explained my mission from the outset, made it clear I wasn't a shrew, and reconnected the old friends. We were talking about it at dinner, and Alison was not impressed. At all.

"That's weird," she said.

Jeff, who you will remember, asked ME for help in reaching his former girlfriend, was puzzled as to why his daughter would think the whole thing odd. I had just said that I'd ended my email conversation with her after a while, thinking it was getting a little bit weird that I was starting to chat with her like I'd known her for years.

I thought Ali and I were on the same page. Jeff was thoroughly puzzled.

"Why would you think it's weird?" he asked. "She's a nice person. You'd like her."

 "I wouldn't like anyone who could have prevented my existence," sniffed Miss Reed.

And we're back to the problems with that early bird analogy. Which makes Jeff the worm, I know.

But I'm OK with that.