Every day I find lost ideas for columns and stories that have been jotted on various scraps of paper. I know I'm not alone in my affliction with disorganization. Scribbled on the edges of newspapers, on post-it notes and envelopes, they record my movements and thoughts with careless precision. As long as I find them. One recently came to the surface as I attempted to clean the truck. It was on an envelope that originally contained a piece of mail but was soon utilized to record the ingredients of a recipe. Wild rice, chicken, mayo, lemon, tarragon, grapes, dash of milk, yogurt, green onions and almonds. The makings of wild rice/ chicken salad. Scribbled over the list of ingredients were a host of further notes to myself, notes that were meant to stir the populace and menace the status quo. At least I thought they had the potential to do so. One caught my attention more than others. 'We have not confronted the realities of our shared social contract. There are 330 million of us sharing this landscape, this economy, this present and future life.'