Monday, January 31, 2011

Poser? Yes I am.....

Any man, if he is honest, will tell you that he is a poser. Not in the traditional weight lifter checking his watch sort of way, but in the context of he is not sure at all what he is doing. Yes, we look confident but deep down inside we fear that one day it will be shown how little we know.


Women will obsess over their looks. I'm talking about beautiful women who are convinced they are ugly. Or too heavy. Or they have too many wrinkles. And yet the people around them know how radiant they are and can't understand how they can be so insecure. I get it. Security is something that doesn't come quickly or stay very long with women. And a lot of the reason is us men. We feed the notion of a "perfect" body. Or just our insensitive and boorish nature. We see women for the wonder that they are but we suck at expressing it. There is a reason.


Because while they are busy running themselves down, we are busy hiding. We hide behind the facade of the tough guy. We don't have time for self examination, we have a life to run. We have work to do. We have kids to raise. We have a wife to make happy. We have buddies that need our company. We have bosses and employees, all who need us a lot. And we are scared to death. That is exactly right. Scared. Just because we didn't cry during "The Notebook" doesn't mean we can't. We just assume the pose of tough guy instead. Fear is powerful.


And the reason we hide. The reason we pose. Because just like the model puking up lunch in the bathroom, we're never quite good enough. We spend our entire life thinking we are blowing it with our wife or girlfriend. Don't believe me ladies? Ask your man if he thinks he is doing a good job in the marriage. Even though you may think he rocks your world, he thinks he is one screw up from being on a late night chat line trying to sound young enough to go clubbing. Same at work for most of us. One bad mistake and it's over. Back to delivering pizza on a bicycle. Parenting? Don't talk to me about parenting. (Jim Mora inflection) We know our kids will think we are out of touch as soon as they are old enough to know anything. We think they will come back around but that might just be for money.


All this brings up the obvious question,"Why are we so worried?". I wish I had an answer. I really do. Lack of faith maybe. In God, our fellow man, our spouse. Could be. Upbringing. Lots of people think so. They have the theory that we are scarred early on and spend the rest of our life trying to fix it. Society puts pressure on us? Possible. But isn't pressure everywhere? For my purposes I have come up with a working explanation as to why I am a poser. And the answer I use to deal with it. The reason is because I am normal. If it is screwed up to want to be good at what you do and be loved and respected than I am screwed up. But I don't think it is. Even great athlete's get butterflies before the game. Why should a husband be any different?Or a boos? Or a father? We want to perform well and that fills us with apprehension. It sounds normal to me. Isn't it possible that all the insecurity we live with is common to almost all of us? If that is the case than aren't we all normal? In my world, the answer is yes. So, drop the pose everybody. We are all in this together and it's okay to be who you are. We are too busy dealing with ourselves to notice.





Till next.......

Sunday, January 30, 2011

The collective wife.......

One of the interesting parts of being married thrice is the unusual amount of verbal landmines that you encounter everyday. I have been fortunate enough to marry three women who were better looking, smarter, kinder and gentler than me. With that being said they will bristle up at a moments notice if they are placed in the middle of a story they did not attend. I love to tell stories and some are actually funny. But after 24 years of being married to somebody, occasionally the wrong name has been attached to the wrong location. No offense meant.

This happened Saturday night when I was story telling at Outback and I said wife instead of ex-wife. What could best be described as an icy reply came from Scarlett that she was not there. It must have been a different wife. So that got me to thinking that as a divorced man I need to use the "collective wife". This would be all things wifely in nature. Ex or current shouldn't matter when using the collective wife. Nor should pesky little details like names or faces. After all it is the "wife" I am referring to, not the individual herself. This will prevent many future arguments.

Charlie Sheen could benefit from the "collective wife" or "collective porn star". Larry King would probably live to be 100 if he could use the collective wife and not be forced to remember all those names everyday. President Clinton has already used the collective wife for nefarious purposes. That was not part of my recommendation. The collective wife is a catch all phrase for stories whose details have fallen into the crevices of the mind. Not for cigars to fall into the crevices of....well you follow my logic. The more divorces, the greater need for the collective wife.

Scarlett has been divorced and could use the collective husband but it doesn't work as well for women. Even though women forget details and the names of their current husband just as much as men do, the need for the collective is simply not there. Why? Because most men will either not hear the wrong name being spoken, or simply won't care. Unless a women is complimenting a man on his love making or his golf game he probably won't take note. He might file it away to use at a later date should some sort of irrational argument arise but for the most part it drifts away unnoticed. Being clueless has benefits. You cannot get easily offended if you are unaware. That would make us part of the "collective dumb ass". Guilty as charged.



Till next.....

Thursday, January 27, 2011

I may have married Mel Gibson. Or Food Tourettes part 2

Last night Scarlett asked me if I could run by the store and pick up a few things. Accommodating gentleman that I am I agreed and she quickly wrote out a list. Seemed very average as far as list's go. Tomatoes, yogurt, blueberries, lettuce and some bottled water. Oh and some milk, soda and bread and....


So off I go and hunt my items and drag them back to the man cave. Once I got everything hauled in, I started putting away the food. It was then I noticed that to put away the new blueberries I would have to move the old ones. Same with the tomatoes. And the yogurt. And the lettuce. Then I realized this wasn't a list, it was a menu for her lunch tomorrow. Normal people will take at least a cursory glance at the current inventory before ordering more. Nope. Just fire away at whatever pops into your head. It looked like a Bing commercial. She had this far away look and just started randomly stringing perishables and non-perishable together.


After putting all the items away, my curiosity was definitely aroused. So I start really looking into our pantry. We own two open boxes of parchment paper. I am almost 50 years old and I have never seen one box of parchment paper. What the hell is it for? Wax paper I have at least heard of. We have three of those. The amount of duplicated products was astonishing and amusing. During my fits of laughter I discovered that my wife had a secret life that I was oblivious to.


Back in the right hand corner of the pantry I found some french style cut green beans. Not one, two, three, four or even five cans. There were 8 cans of french style cut green beans. And they were by different companies. Del Monte was represented. Publix brand. Green Giant would never be left out of this parade. These were purchased at all sorts of different times. Much like the Mel Gibson character Jerry Fletcher had to buy his copy of Catcher in the Rye, Scarlett has to buy green beans. Using a normal schedule we have enough beans to make a casserole for every big holiday until Christmas of 2016.


Apparently this clandestine love affair she has had with the Parisian legume has been going on before I entered her life. She kept her secret well hidden. When I asked her about the obsession she was carrying on, she broke down and admitted she even had a can at her office. In case she needed to whip up a green bean casserole for somebody coming in to tighten up a will. Just when you think you know somebody you find out about a second life. To quote Jerry Fletcher, "What do we know? If I knew what we know I would know who knew how much we know." At least I shall never go off in search of a side dish. Is it a holiday yet?











Till next.......

Wednesday, January 26, 2011

Perfect eyesight and big ears. What am I supposed..

to do with these things? Once again I proved that even though my hearing is perfect, my ability to listen ain't worth diddly poo. Last week I had an anniversary that I was buying a gift for. (2nd year, 3rd wife) Scarlett had been very kind and told me what she wanted. Imagine my surprise when it was the exact same gift she had requested for Christmas. That is right boys and girls, it was the same gift I didn't give her for Christmas. Who needs ears if you can't hear?

It's not the hearing part that gets you. It's the listening. I know she said that was the gift. She even sent me a link on how to buy it over the Internet. And still I didn't go for it. I didn't believe my lying eyes. Besides if I used the debit card she would see the transaction and the surprise would be gone. If I wasn't such a jackass I would have known there was no surprise because she sent me the link. How stupid can one man be? The answer seems obvious but it is not. Let me explain why being stupid isn't the problem. Human nature and being a man is the problem.

Being a man comes with certain genetic defects. Not the least of which is you think you can always do something better. When Michelangelo completed the Sistine Chapel he probably looked up and said, "Not bad, could be better". Nolan Ryan threw seven no-hitters in baseball. Nobody is even close. He lamented he should have thrown closer to ten. So when your wife tells you what gift to get, you know you can do better. Then you find out you can't get it until February 10th. In a woman's world a gift delayed is a gift denied. No matter how nice it is if it ain't on time, it ain't good. But I had a plan. Not a good one, mind you, but a plan.

See I was going to buy this cool IPhone 4 and surprise her. But it didn't happen. And then I was going to get the charm at the mall. They were out. Then I was going to get flowers and by the time I got back into town the florist were all closed. This is another one of those defects we talked about earlier. The ability to admit defeat and beg for forgiveness. One of the things women reportedly love about us men is our talent for putting your head down and getting the job done. Apparently this does not apply to screw ups. They like to know about those right away.

Well forgiveness was granted several days later and all is well. For a couple of days I was so far in the dog house when friends came over I didn't know whether to shake hands or sniff their ass. So now I am resigned to the fact that all gifts shall be purchased by those who wish to get them. And I will slink back to my man cave and try and invent the wheel. Better version.



Till next.....

Sunday, January 23, 2011

I wonder if Noah had second thoughts....

when he saw the rain clouds rolling in? Seriously, he's got the family with him, the in-laws, two of every type of animal all loaded up in this ark he built himself and now the sky starts getting really dark. The llama's are spitting all over the place. Maybe it's the Alpaca's? Monkeys swinging to and fro. Crawling things and flying things. Two rabbits and now four and then eight and the thunder starts up. You look over all this around you and you would have to think,"Did I hear him right?"

But Noah walked with God is what the bible says. He got the plans on how to build it and who to put on it from the Man himself. And that got me to thinking about things. If we feel certain that we are children of God and we know his plan is for us to prosper, why are we such cowards that we argue and try and negotiate with God? Why don't we trust Him more? Why do we think we know just a little bit more than He does? Could it be by design? Stick with me.

What if God knows we are going to barter? And we all do. "You know I would tithe that whole 10% but things have been a little slow this week and I'll make it up next week." Or how about this one, "Forgive me father for I have sinned. I spent some of our rent money to buy clothes for the under privileged." Never mind the fact that the under privileged in question was a twenty year old stripper who gave you a lap dance. Or a bookie who you lost the rent money to. He knows we are flawed from the beginning so this could be His way of delivering us back to Him.

There is an old joke about the difference between people who pray in church and people who pray in casino's. The folks praying in a casino really mean it. The element of truth is there. Do the people who listen to and talk to God on a regular basis need sin? Of course not but the more they talk to Him the less sin should occur in their lives. Sounds logical enough to me.

The way I see it, and this is only my viewpoint, we don't trust Him more because we still have fear. If you consider yourself a Christian, should you ever worry? Nope. Be fearful ? Nope. Be rude or dismissive? Nope. Hateful? Nope. Jealous? Nope. And on and on. Yet we are. And we are going to be. Because if we don't sin and fall short of God's plan then we would never need His forgiveness. His grace. His love. And if we still have just a little amount of fear then we will always need His grace. Now I am not recommending knocking off a bank or any other random act of sin. I am merely trying to explain why God has.....There is your perfect example. A very flawed human being giving his take on God's plan. Tune in tomorrow for my cancer cure.



Till next......

Saturday, January 22, 2011

The joke is on us.

It was 3 years ago today that a very fine young actor slipped away by an accidental overdose of sleeeping pills and anti-anxiety drugs. He was also a father, son and brother. He was a champion chess player at the age of 10. A childhood star who also made it as an adult. And more than that he was anyone of us. He had sleeping issues. Insecurity gnawed at him daily despite his success. He was said to be shy without a camera rolling in front of him. But he was not a drug abuser. So what could cause that much torment to lose your own way? The part you play.
Growing up we can't help but play different parts. We can't be true to ourselves because we don't know who we are yet. But when you get older you learn who you are. And then you learn to play different parts. When you're with the guys it's time to cuss, belch and expel any other gas you care to. The more inopportune time to do so the better. Then with your lady it's time to put on the gentleman hat. Or play the kind, sensitive, caring guy that your not. Same thing at work. You have a roll to play. And you damn sure better play it the way the script is written. Don't improvise. That could screw up your marriage or career or long term freindships even.
Now here is the joke, what happens when you can't get out of character? The part you are playing becomes you. That could never happen, right? It happens to people everyday. You play the victim role in a relationship and all of sudden you forget how independant you truly are. You play the role of hard ass at work and you forget that deep down inside you want folks to prosper as much if not more than the business. But you're stuck. So many times we take the easy way out of our problem. We look to some sort of drug or thrill or bad behavior to mask the conflict we have inside ourselves. We feel hurt and mis-understood because people don't know us for who we are. Because we have become what we sought to portray.
So how do you fix it? The only way I found that works is to get out of yourself. Do something for others. It doesn't matter what it is as much as the fact it's not about you. It never really is. We all think we are the most important thing going until we realize everyone thinks that. Then it slowly dawns on you and me and everyone else that we all are in this together. And the character we are playing is already written but his role is defined everyday. Be true to your role in life. The Who said it quite well, "Who Are You?"
Till next....

Friday, January 21, 2011

No Officer, I didn't know the tire......

was on backward. Those damn donut tires are confusing anyway. And after a few adult beverages, well you get the picture. Amazingly after changing the tire and getting back in the car we still didn't drive off. My roommate had passed smooth out. And he was the designated driver. So I had to drag him across the front seat and sit him up in the passenger seat, all while Arlington's finest were watching and laughing. (They actually had two more cars show up. I thought they were back up but they were just there to get a laugh. Seriously.) Then I walked or staggered around to the other side of the car and got behind the wheel. Bad idea.

Then the flashing blue lights came on. And the spotlight into the rear view mirror. Once they coaxed me out of the car the officer asked me where I thought I was going. "Well, I was planning on going home but my designated driver passed out when I was re-changing my flat tire because cars don't move at all with a tire put on backward. Then when I moved him over to the other seat your lights came on. So now I think I will let you tell me what to do next because I'm out of ideas." Instead of getting arrested the officer asked me to drive to the parking lot on the right and stay there for 4 hours. Then he instructed me to get out of his county without hitting anything.

The reason for relating this true story of horrible judgement and incredible luck is a good one.

That donut on our car is just like fear in our lives. If it's used properly it helps you get where you are supposed to go. If used incorrectly, it will stop you from moving at all. Being afraid to fly in a helicopter with a one-armed, one-eyed pilot named Lucky is a good thing. Helps to keep you alive. Being afraid of bungee jumping off a bridge with a really thick rubber band is prudent. Being afraid of jumping into a new relationship or job might not be. Being afraid to use your talent because of rejection is not prudent, it is sad. Being afraid of forgiving someone is not smart, it is a shame. Just being afraid isn't enough justification for being less than you should be.

We are all afraid of something. No matter how tough we think we are we all have fear. And most don't ever want to admit it. But once you do a strange and wonderful thing happens. It's not as scary. Every time I have admitted being scared to someone it takes away some of the fear. I don't know how or why. It just does. And just like turning that donut around, easing that fear makes things work better. And you don't even need to be drunk to try it. Trust me.



Till next.......

Tuesday, January 18, 2011

Shoot me an E-mail...On second thought just....

shoot me in the head instead. I am old enough to remember when people used to actually use the voice God gave them and talk to each other. "Reach out, reach out and touch someone" used to be a jingle from AT&T. Now it might be more like "Text me,OMG, Text me more. Back in the old days if you didn't want to talk to someone you didn't answer the phone. How do you not answer a text? I guess you can say you never got it. Yea, okay, sure you didn't. I'm not normally one to bash technology but in this case more may not always be better.


How many times has something crossed your mind and you thought, I need to give them a call and find out what that was about? Or I need to call and give them a piece of my mind. Or I'll call and ask why they can't get that right. And then you forget to call. And lo and behold what happens? The problem resolves itself. Or there was no problem at all. Or you just had an anal retentive moment and you didn't need to inject your head into the conversation at all. This used to be a regular occurrence in the world. Things that were left unsaid were probably every bit as important as things that got said. Because we all have a filter that gives us pause before we make a fool of ourselves or just look like an ass. God installed this in us and it worked. Until e-mail.


Now there is no filter. See something you don't like. Shoot an email. Somebody has a dangling participle, shoot an e-mail. You don't have time to think through an intelligent response, shoot an e-mail. Missed a meeting, shoot an e-mail. Shooting blanks, shoot an e-mail. Shooting tequila on a Saturday night, shoot an e-mail. Shooting yourself in the foot, shoot an e-mail. I've see and sent more stupid e-mails than I care to remember and I vowed to quit doing it. Now I ask myself if I would say out loud before I type it. If the answer is no than nothing gets sent.


So go ahead and fire up your email account. And if you liked this post don't hesitate to....





Till next......

10 Rules of public restroom etiquette

Having traveled many miles across this great country I have been in as many restrooms has Kohler faucets. Over the last 35 years my eyes have seen sights that ought not be repeated. Without further ado, the list:

10. Always make sure you're shoe laces are tied. Having to grab a urine drenched lace and tie up a shoe is not cool.

9. Do not make eye contact while using the urinal. Any conversation that is that important should not be taking place while you have your member out.

8. Never push on a stall door to see if it is occupied. If it is and the door is not locked you either have a new friend or a mortal enemy.

7. When you are in a hurry, have a plan. What will I do if someone is already using the room? How long can I wait? Is there a secluded spot behind the store? Plan ahead.

6. In an emergency remember that the sign on the door is merely a suggestion. Be careful when using this option. When exiting the "other" restroom if you run into a waiting line loudly announce that the toilet paper is now fully stocked. Do not stop to buy anything. Leave fast.

5. Gas stations have a reputation for filthy restrooms and some are deserved. Some are not. Easiest way to tell is if the lock on the door does not work, find another place.

4. In larger, multiple stall restrooms never assume you are alone. Making a sighing sound while peeing or commenting on what you are doing is really creepy if someone else hears you.

3. Along the same lines, it is not acceptable to stand next to someone at a urinal and pass gas just because we are in a men's room. It's still damn rude.

2. Courtesy Flush

1. Always close the stall door. If I wanted to see what a goat running away looked like I would watch Animal Planet. If you are that proud buy a Speedo.

Till next......

Sunday, January 16, 2011

Rock Climbing.....The natural enemy of a beer belly.

Spent the day rock climbing with the whole family Sunday. And I learned that rock walls will bitch slap a beer belly and the day of keeping up with my kids in sports may be ending. But at 49 years old it was an odd time to rock climb for the first time. Joints have a way of making their presence felt at the most annoying times. Knees and shoulders seemed to take a particular pleasure in screaming the higher I would get on the wall. And my fingers may never be right.


Christopher my oldest boy at 14 went rocketing up those walls like some sort of crack head monkey. He was going upside down and sideways fearlessly. Zachary my 11 year old also made it to the top of one wall after only his second try. My wife Scarlett made the top of several walls and Melanie and Matthew climbed as well. Everyone had a great time. Family togetherness.


Except for when we left. Reality has set in the Peter Pan is getting old. My kids kicked my ass all up and down those walls. And being the competitive man that I am I kept climbing right with them. My left knee has ceased to work on stairs this evening. I almost ducted tape the spoon to my hand so I could finish my ice cream because my fingers hurt so bad. When it was time for a shower it became evident that nothing would be washed above shoulder level. I couldn't lift my arms. Even my toes are sore from digging onto ledges trying to hold my beer gut up.


In one especially optimistic moment tonight I thought I would have done much better six months ago. Without the 30 pounds of sexy blubber. But, who am I kidding? I was still smoking back then. Try holding yourself parallel to the ground two stories up and light a Camel. That isn't going to work. And my lungs were the only part of body that didn't hurt. I don't recall having to stop and have a coughing fit once while we were there. I guess this means I am old, fat and healthy. Boy will that look good on a business card.


All in all it was a lot of fun. And the whole family could do it. But I think something less painful is in my future. Golf only hurts my pride. Bowling only hurts my image at work. Badminton was suggested but the last thing I need is to hurt myself lunging for a shuttlecock. There are too many puns to follow that up with so...





Till next......

Saturday, January 15, 2011

Two sons...Two report cards....Too bad....

This weekend my two boys, Christopher and Zachary, are in Atlanta to have some fun. But first it was time to show Dad how the first half of the school year went. This is not normally a time for nervousness for the two but they seemed different when I asked them about their grades before Christmas. Both of them said they weren't sure how they came out. Curious?

Upon intense grilling from me during our vacation it was revealed that they both thought a "B" was forthcoming in one of their classes. One "B" and they were worried. Zachary and Christopher have had one each so far in their academic journey. And now they fretted over another one. Priceless. Talk about setting the bar high. They jacked it all the way up to the top. Both had a bad quiz or something like it and thought it doomed the grade. What I found most interesting is the intensity they approach school with. It is impressive.

So it got me to thinking, do we push our kids hard enough? Do we tell them that trying is good enough? Are we expecting "A"s in every subject? How high do we set the bar as parents? The answer in my case is I do expect all "A"s and anything less than that needs an explanation. Why? Because they are equipped mentally to handle to school. If they do not it's because they are not giving it the importance it deserves. When it comes to education I am a tough parent. I will mock and ridicule my kids if they are slacking. Before you start telling me how bad that is for the child keep in mind that all kids are different. Mine know what sarcasm is already. They have heard it every day of their lives. Pretty sure about the mocking as well. Why so tough?

Because during my school years (I was two years behind Noah before he dropped out to build the ark) I slacked a lot. I seem to remember that I had plenty of brain power but no focus. My grades were much better than average and I didn't care a bit. One and half years of collage and it was on to cold beer and hot women. Okay, at least I knew what the beer was like. Anyway, life has been very good to me but it could have, and should have been easier. With a small amount of focus I would have had at least one or two degrees. The reason I push the boys so hard is out of love. I don't want them to have to work as hard as I did. They should be able to make a living and make a life. They won't be afraid of hard work but it would be nice if they had an option or two.

The report cards were straight "A"s again. Turns out they were worried over nothing. I was not surprised at all. I expect to see those grades. And if there comes a time where they get worse I will probably mock and then hug them. Kid them and then laugh with them. Too bad they don't know this but they already graduated with honors in my heart. Because they get straight "A"s in kindness, respect, compassion, love and forgiveness from me. If I tell them it's okay to get a "B" now, they might start doing it. And that would be my fault for lowering the bar.



Till next.....

Thursday, January 13, 2011

You go first Barry. We're right behind you.

I saw the replay of the President's speech last night and I thought it was a very good speech. Not sure how you get a t-shirt at a memorial but then I don't go to any memorials. He did have one line that I thought was brilliant when he asked for a tone that heels, not hurts. So I am all on board Barry, I just want you to go first.
Growing up we all had that one friend who would suggest something crazy and then fade into the background while one of the others took the chance and did it. I know that bee hive that I knocked down with a stick was not my idea. The stingers left all over me were proof that listening to people tell you what to do without doing it first is not always the best way to go. Or the time I tried fitting a keg of beer and two friends in a canoe for a short trip in Lake Superior. Didn't turn out well. My buddy was positive it wouldn't tip over. Again, you first.
So back to the President. Okay, let's all play nice. No more, "get in the back of the bus " comments for you. We won't hear you tell us that you will "bring a gun if we have a knife". Pigs will probably fly before you refer to American citizens who disagree with you politically as "enemies". To my substantial ears those do not sound like healing words. Almost hurtful some would say. And while we're sitting around the campfire singing together, how about getting your media team on board with the new civil tone. It won't do much good to heal wounds if your staff is right behind ripping off the scabs. They do listen to you, right? Just like well trained dogs just raise your hand and say sit and they will.
Off we go into the wild blue yonder with nothing but kind words for each other and our political opponents. You first, Mr. President.

Till next......

Wednesday, January 12, 2011

To live is the rarest thing in the world.....

Most people just exist. That was from Oscar Wilde and sadly he could not have been more right. Now that I am approaching my 50th birthday I am getting just a bit more reflective than I used to be. (And 30 pounds fatter) The other night while I was sitting at home after another global warming snowstorm in Atlanta, Georgia it occurred to me what a great roller coaster ride my life has been. Plenty of glimpses of success and plenty of failure as well. The thrill of stepping out and trying something against all forms of logic and prospering anyway. The sadness of failing and knowing you tried as hard as you could and it didn't help. A perfect example of being human.
So when the grim reaper shows up at my door in another 50 years I can tell him I have done my best to get the most out of what I had. And he won't give a crap but you might as well try and make conversation. But it does bring up the question of why Oscar had it right. Why do most of us just exist? What happens to our passion? Our dreams? Our daring? Does it just slowly erode over time or is it stolen in the blink of an eye by some tragedy? Do we decide to play safe because it is the easy way? Do we settle for existence because living is too hard?
Or could it be that we just forget? Almost all of us is equipped with a fear of failure. And that can be healthy but it is more often crippling. What is the worst thing that can happen if you try and start your own business? You lose all your money and go broke. I have had that happen. Twice. I'm still here and smiling. It didn't kill me. Your friends and family might think less of you? Wrong answer there. They will admire you for trying. Everyone wants to live. Not exist, but live. It is part of who we are. Hard wired. Can't be removed either. But then life comes along. You're told you can't do this or that. You're told to play it safe, keep that steady paycheck, and save some money for when you can't work anymore. And most of the time we listen because it is so much easier. And it is not scary at all. Until you wake up and wonder where time went.
What if when you die you get up to heaven and Saint Peter looks you up and down and asks,"What were you waiting for? You never got started." There is greatness in all of us. What that greatness is up to you. But finding that greatness is not the key to living. It is the search for your greatness, your gift that gives life. Finding your gift is living. That is not existing when your eyes light when you talk about something, that's living. When you can stay up all night working and not need sleep the next day because you're excited, that's living. Doesn't have to be a job either. It could be a hobby. A relationship. Whatever it is, it is your gift to find. So don't worry about failing, that just makes you human. Live. It's what we are meant to do.

Till next......

Tuesday, January 11, 2011

Snow in Georgia...Not the Russian one....The Peach One..

So this huge storm hits on Sunday night a couple of weeks ago and everyone in a three state radius knew it was coming. And there was not a damn thing we could do about it. Just wait and wonder how big it would be and how long it would last. Kind of like a sorority girl on ....never mind that. It started me thinking about how little we actually control in life. And I think I have it narrowed down to one thing we have complete control over. One and only one. How can that be?


The two biggest events in our life are our birth and our death. And we have no control over either one. So if we have no control over the two most important things it seems that we wouldn't have any say over the rest of it. You can say you won't leave the house today and it can burn down and chase you into the street. You think you can control what you eat and drink? Not always. People in hospital beds with a tube down their throat feeding them dinner probably didn't wake up that morning expecting or planning that. So what is the one thing? Think about it.



That is the answer. What you decide to put into your head is the only thing you control. What happens to you during the day can be fairly random. Circumstances are almost always beyond your control. But how you choose to interpret them is your call. You cannot decide to win the lottery but you can choose to be happy about. Or mad because you had to split it with the third shift down at the local plant. That one is easy. The tougher the event, the tougher it is to put the right thought in your head. You find a twenty dollar bill. You are happy. You see a story on the nightly news about a family whose power has been turned off. You are sad. You try to donate the twenty dollars to the family but they cannot be reached because the phone is now shut off. You are sad and mad. You finally reach the family and give them the twenty dollars and the mother tells you that will make up for the twenty she lost going to pay the power bill. In the same parking lot you found it. Now how do feel?



I know that's a tough one. But the point is whatever you feel is what you choose to feel. Some will feel good, some bad and some relieved. Others will fell guilty. But everyone gets to choose. Nobody gets to put the thoughts in your head. So my humble advice would be to guard your thoughts. Don't let other people tell you how you feel. Or that your feelings aren't valid. And remember that if you get a choice for all your thoughts, you can choose positive over negative. Every time if you want. It's your choice. To quote the old knight watching over the cup that Christ drank out of in the Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom movie, "Choose wisely".



Till next......

Sunday, January 9, 2011

Not for the weak or the timid....The art world....

I never in my life thought I would be standing in line to see an art exhibit. But there I stood in 27 degree weather waiting to be admitted to Salvador Dali's exhibit. This was the last night of a five month run at the High museum of art and everyone waited till the last night to go.
The line to get in at 10:30 pm when we showed up was about 200 people or so. And it got longer while we shivered. My knowledge of art extends to the famous "Dogs playing poker"painting. Which is actually titled "A friend in need". Drop that little trivia tidbit and see if the ladies aren't just lining up to fill your dance card. Knowledge is damn sexy. And that is all the art I know.
So in the interest of expanding my horizons and keeping a promise to my wife, we joined the wine and cheese crowd in midtown Atlanta. (Side note: Does being a fan of art require wearing a stupid hat?) And then after 30 minutes of getting really cold Scarlett had had enough. She was not willing to wait another hour to see the melting clocks. (Found that one on the Internet) Being of hearty northern stock I could have stayed outside another 3 or 4 minutes at least. So we ran toward the nearest heated lobby we could find to warm up before heading to the car. So the correct description of the night would be we went downtown to see a sidewalk.
What caught my eye more than anything was the art people who were there. The real art people. They seemed to be enjoying the wait and the weather. We even saw a man scalp tickets to the exhibit. First time I have been a witness to that. He got $40 to get two people in without waiting in line. I have bought tickets from a scalper for every event you can think of but not an art exhibit. Maybe I had these folks all wrong. Do they chest bump when they see a real cool painting? Do they have saying's like "Roll Dali"? Do they have big foam paint brush's that they wear on their fingers? Jersey's with their favorite artists name on the back? Do they do the wave when they hear about the next artist coming to town?
What about the gallery's themselves? Do they get to draft the exhibits? Is the Louvre pompous and arrogant when dealing with lesser museums? Probably. Anybody up for cheerleaders? The Louvre cheerleaders would probably have more hair under their arms than I do. That isn't going to work but you see where I'm going. If art were more like sports more people would get interested in it. All we need to do is figure out how to keep score. Because I saw the equivalent of the Lambeau Field crowd last night. The art crowd is tough enough for sports. They are just so above it all I dn't think they would be up for it. Except the hats of course.

Till next......

Friday, January 7, 2011

The few, the proud, the drunks?

Many times over the last 25 years people who have heard that I no longer choose to be a drunkard of epic proportions have said, "Congratulations or You must be very proud or Very few people have that type of willpower." While all of these sentiments are nice and certainly genuine they do make me wonder. What exactly am I supposed to be proud of again?

This is one of the great tricks the addict or drunkard likes to play. When you quit drinking (this can be any vice but alcohol was my favorite so I will use that for the rest of this post) the people who know you best and know how badly you needed to quit will pour the adulation on you. And it feels good. Even to a hard ass like me the praise makes you smile. Then you go a few weeks and nobody is that impressed anymore. You are not the star of the show. Much like getting drunk and losing a car gets you attention so does stopping drinking. So what does any good wet brained drunk do when he isn't the attraction anymore? He gets hammered.

Truth be told once I quit drinking I became like every other normal, hard working American. Now I am just doing what most people do anyway. And I am to be applauded? Way to go, you didn't destroy any one's property or make an ass out of yourself today. Doesn't sound right, does it? The real trick that myself and the few and the proud did (apologies to the Marines) was to admit we were weaker than whatever our vice was. Most people don't congratulate you for being weak. But that is what leads to success. Winners never quit, doesn't work with drunks. Nor does thinking. My brilliant brain convinced me day after day, drink after drink, fight after fight, felony after felony, that I did not have a drinking problem. And I didn't. I could drink for days and weeks and months on end. What I couldn't do was stop. Until I gave up. Quit. Admitted defeat.

The reason this came to mind is I am approaching the day I first had any success quitting drinking. 26 years ago on the 14th of this month. And the further along I get the more I feel the need to share some of my thoughts in the hope it might actually help someone else. Not many people get to hear that it's okay to quit. To give up. But for some of us it's the only way to win.
Till next.........


Till next.......

Thursday, January 6, 2011

Everybody knows clowns are creepy but......

Do they really need to be executed? 2 clowns in full make up were found shot in the head on the Mexico side of the border near El Paso Texas. Most people do think that clowns are a little disturbing but the punishment seems a bit over the top. The bigger question here is really more about what kind of neighbors we have to the South of us. How bad off is Mexico?


Let's face it, we all have either had a horrible neighbor or been one ourselves. Personally I have been both. Back in my youth my apartment would spew out rock and roll at a decibel level Ted Nugent would envy. Not real good if you lived close and actually needed sleep. Or felt that because you paid rent you should have privacy. But not all my bad neighbor tales are influenced by alcohol. I had been sober many years when I went to walk my dog in the afternoon. I grabbed her leash and we went through the streets of my White Rock lake neighborhood in Dallas. I forgot to put on pants or shorts. Nothing but my Detroit Red Wings boxer shorts and Nike tennis shoes. No one looked me in the eye the whole trip. No one called the police about a man walking a dog and a snake either(I'm telling the story so it is a snake) so apparently no harm was done. Unlike the morning recently when I wandered out on the back porch and broke wind in a most impressive fashion. Only to look over the top of the fence and see a realtor showing the house next door. We made eye contact and she ran to her car. I don't think being flatulent in the morning is fatal but she wasn't chancing it. The house still hasn't sold.


So all this brings us to Mexico. Things are deadly and they are starting to creep over the border and into our states. Arizona is fighting kidnapping and drug running. Texas has had police officers killed and some have dis-appeared. New Mexico is in the same boat. And these folks don't care if you are the police or the press. They are well funded and well trained. So why don't we put up a fence to keep our neighbors out? Good question. Why don't enforce laws on our books already? Good question. (If this is the place where you hypocritical liberals come blabbering about profiling and human rights please get back to me when you start protesting our government telling us what light bulbs to buy, and how much salt I can't put on my non-hydrogenated fat fries that came with my small combo meal without the toy because I'm too stupid as a parent to make sure my kid eats right so you will do it for me. Like any of you give a rats ass about liberty unless it's a Republican in office.) Why don't we use our National Guard troops till we can build a fence. Good question.


Maybe the answer is because both political parties need the open border. For big business it's cheap labor. For Democrats it's a generation of new voters. For Mexicans it's a chance to get out alive. Would both parties put up with a lawless, brutal and ruthless neighbor just for votes and money? Even a dead clown knows the answer to that question.





Till next........

Tuesday, January 4, 2011

Here's what learned on my Christmas vacation....

If you make a New Years resolution to get healthy and start taking vitamins do not call 911 the first time you pee. A martian has not taken over your bladder, it's just the vitamins.

When putting away all the decorations and lights from the holidays do not ask the kids to put anything in the box marked "toys". This will be the cause of therapy in their adult years.

Whoever said, "It's the thought that counts" never had children. Or was married for more than one Christmas.

The difference between having to beg a child to take a shower and begging them to get out is the age they reach puberty.

American ingenuity is not dead. Come and watch me pack a car for a week long trip with four kids and the wife and I'll show you creative.

Just because you have fond memories of where you grew up does not mean your kids, step kids or your wife will agree. Taking them to a climate that scares penguins may not be a good idea.

Presents that are still in the box do not have the "wow" factor. Kids will try to appear happy (not all of them) but to them it is a box.

This is not a complete list of all the lesson learned over the last three weeks. The best thing I learned was something I already knew. There is no substitute for family and friends. And Jesus is still the reason for the season. Although convincing kids of that is, well, only 354 shopping days left.

Till next.......

Monday, January 3, 2011

Die like you were living.....

Tim McGraw had a big hit with his song Live Like You Were Dying. It was a very good song and I liked it because his dad was a pitcher I admired growing up. But I think he had it backward. From the moment we are born we begin dying. Not a cheery concept at all but still true. We have a finite time on this planet but what makes it so tricky is we don't know the end date. As the great quarterback Bobby Layne once said, "If I knew I was going to live this long I would have taken better care of myself." Or "I hope my money and my life run out at the same time." I agree. Who wants people to say "He looks good in there". Not me. I want folks to be shocked I made it as far as I did. So, with that in mind, how do we die like we were living?


Savor every moment. Good, bad, boring, it doesn't matter. Just try to enjoy it and find the positive in most people and situations. I will never ride a bull and I don't care what his name is. He will be steak for me someday. I won't be skydiving either. If the plane is still flying, I'm not going anywhere. I've already climbed Rocky mountains and that was no big deal. Nice lyrics but thanks but no thanks. With no expiration date I'd just as soon pass on stunt tricks.


The rest of the song may have it nailed though. Why not love a little bit more. With less conditions. Doesn't everyone want to be be a dependable, reliable great friend? Then make it happen. And if you know you are dying why are you sad about anything? You don't have time to waste here. You can spend your days down in the dumps or thinking of whats wrong or what could be better. I'm not willing to give them up. You are not happy. Go fix it. Clock's ticking.


And what is the biggest waste of time for all us mortals? I would have to say it is resentment. If just one second is spent being angry because someone has more than you it is stupid. Some have a better jump right out of the starting gate. That's their fault? Good for them. For everyone who thinks how unfair it is that people are rich, how do you feel when people who are much poorer than you feel resentment towards you? Or do you spend time resenting an ex whatever. For what? Is your resentment going to hurt them? Highly doubtful. Grow up.


It's time to start dying like your living it up. Smile and get out in the world. Then make someone else smile. Now that's living. Or dying with style anyway.





Till next.....

Sunday, January 2, 2011

Does this make me look fat?

I actually had that question run through my mind today. After gaining 30 pounds of non-smoking sexy blubber the last 4 months I have found myself in a position I have never encountered. I am trying to lose weight. Yes that is correct. I have a weight problem for the first time in 49 years. Until now my major concern with weight was how much my steak weighed pre-cooking. The times they have a changed. Calories matter now. Gone are the nights of a half gallon of great divide Blue Bell ice cream disappearing under the relentless assault of my spoon. Gone are the days of the apple pie dessert. Not a slice. The pie. The whole pie.
My metabolism slowed once I quit smoking. I am a little more deliberate in all my movements except toward the refrigerator. Gazelle's envy my speed heading for food. My appetite has increased to a point that may not be healthy. If it moves slower than me, and can be covered with a condiment, it will be eaten. The smaller kids in the neighborhood have become a little quicker lately. I may have eaten my pillow during a dream about marshmallows. I may start eating the garnish on the side of the plate. Things are almost out of control.
All this extra eating and slower metabolism has led to one thing. A stressed wardrobe. The size I normally wear has been replaced by a size bigger and the phrase "relaxed fit" which is a Greek term translated "this should be a whole size bigger but we don't want to shattered your fat arsed fragile ego". Loosely translated of course. You get the point. When I tried on my regular pants this morning I think I heard "put us back on the hanger please" in a very strained voice. If you have ever tried to pack a suitcase for a trip and had to sit on it to close it you know how I feel getting dressed. It's not easy finding someone to sit on you at certain times of the day.
So now I am reduced to thinking about what I am wearing and how it looks. Most of what I am wearing looks like a duffel bag filled with pumpkins. My main concern now is to keep the wardrobe from splitting completely apart. Belching has become a critical tool in not popping a button or two off my shirts. Don't ask about the pants. Time to eat some carrots....

Till Next.........

Are you crazy? The fall will probably kill ya....

Butch Cassidy was letting Sundance know he really didn't have to worry about not being able to swim. When they were about to jump off a seventy foot high rock outcropping into what could be a shallow river the fact he couldn't swim was not the primary problem to be focused on. It could be landing in a river with no water. Or the people who were shooting bullets at them.


It does bring up an interesting question though. Why do we focus on our shortcomings instead of the problems at hand? It is our nature to be fully aware of what we can't do. And if it is something that most people are good at ,then rest assured we will fixate on the fact we are not. Much like Sundance worrying about swimming we will worry about what we can't do and completely forget what we can do. How do I know this true? Personal experience.


Most human beings that have a penis attached are supposed to be somewhat handy. Drive a nail or change the oil in the car. The more developed handyman types convert garages, build decks, assemble Christmas presents, hang fixtures and a bunch of other tasks I hire people to do. I will twist myself into a pretzel to avoid doing any of these things. Because I suck at it. And I will buy presents that never have to be assembled. Because I am scared to death someone will ask me to assemble it. And then I will be forced to admit that there will be leftover parts that play a critical role in the proper functioning of the present. Instead of just hiring a handyman to do the work, I will force myself to make a feeble attempt. Why would I worry about it all?


Why do beautiful women obsess with the slight imperfections they may have? Or why women who look great will not hesitate to tell you about the 3 pounds they have left to drop. And that is in line at the grocery store. Why do we put those things front and center in our minds instead of things we can actually change that might make a difference? The reason I ask is it kind of dovetails into one of my New Years resolutions. To focus on only positive changes.



So what might those be? I have 3 things that I am focusing on daily and all are positive. All are somewhat selfish and all can be measured. So they qualify under a previous post. The first is to do one thing each day to benefit someone else. "But how is that selfish?" you ask. Because the minute you do something for another person you forget about your problems. Nuff said. Second on my list is to spend one hour a day with something spiritual. Some days I read the bible. Some days I watch a preacher on line or on tv. They have a tendency to be positive as well. And the third thing I am devoting daily time to is my dreams. We all have them and then life gets in the way. They are still there. They never left. So I decided it's time to chase them. This blog is a large part of one of my dreams and I thank you all for being a part of it.



So don't worry about the swimming part. Just go ahead and jump because the fall kills us all in the end...



Till next.....