50 years. So far…so good

I pretty much painted myself into a corner.  I decided a month ago to write six blogs leading up to my fiftieth birthday only to figure out that I didn’t really have that much to write about when I examined those forty-nine years leading up to said date.  Not.  Much.  There.  I thought that I’d write about all of the jobs that I’ve had, fifteen of them, throughout my life, some of them very forgettable but lessons were learned and none of them were fatal.  Baling hay was probably one of the best jobs.  Outside, sunshine, fresh air and a sense of accomplishment when you see that the field is done and in the barn at the end of the day.  My memory of us hot-footing it to get the last of the hay baled, stacked onto the rack and back to the barn before a huge summer thunderstorm that loomed on the horizon with dark blue anvil-headed peaks bearing down on us taught me the importance of teamwork and a very definite deadline.  Being a fry cook at a truck stop during my senior year of high school taught me the importance of the folks in the kitchen and the need for higher education if I wished to get above those ranks.   Working two years with the mentally handicapped was awesome and heartbreaking at the same time. This list could go on and on…but you get the idea.  For every experience…there’s lessons to be learned.

What I’ve learned the most the past year is this.  When it comes to me being me…I’m not everyone’s cup of tea.  Some folks simply don’t get my sense of humor nor why I do what I do…and now I’m good with that.  I took a personality test this past summer that told me what I pretty much already knew…I’m an extrovert.  A great big, loud-mouthed, can’t keep quiet, wise-assed, witty, sensitive extrovert.  75% extrovert.  So when I’m not talking or when I’m quiet…watch out…I’m just refueling and reloading for our next interaction.

The test also stated that I’ve always put more into friendships than I get back, that I give gifts and can’t figure out why I don’t hear back from those recipients.  That really struck a cord for me.  For years I’ve done things for folks, and never heard back from them.  Not.  A.  Peep.  It used to bother me.  I’d think “Holy cow…did they not like it?  Didn’t they get the joke, or appreciate the effort?”  I now understand that the recipients aren’t wired the same way that I am and maybe they did like it, or find it humorous but aren’t the kind to express it like I am.  I’ve stop expecting to be thanked, or even acknowledged…and that’s liberating for me.  I still do the things that I do, but giving a gift simply for the acknowledgement of it…then its not a gift, its a set up for being disappointed in that person.  I don’t want that.  Once I send a gift…I walk away from it.  Nuff said.

Failure…its where most growth is found.  It doesn’t frighten me anymore.

I’m blessed so abundantly. (most of us are…we choose not to count what we think are “ours” when really…those blessings can disappear at any time).  Count ’em and give thanks to those responsible.

For my birthday yesterday I took my little brother (from Big Brothers/Big Sisters) to a comic convention, called Comic Con.  I’d never been to one and neither had he.  It was filled with thousands of fans, some of them dressed up in the costumes of their favorite super hero complete with masks and makeup.  My takeaway from the experience was this:

  • One comic con is enough.
  • Those folks are really into their masks, wigs, eye-patches, swords, guns, costumes, make-up, shields and various accessories but not so much deodorant.  Not even a whiff of Axe body spray or splash of cologne in that crowd except for yours truly.  I’m glad that it wasn’t summertime is all that I’m sayin’, that crowd was…stale at the time that I was there.  Now before anyone gets worked up and tells me that I’m not being nice just calm down.  Those folks are comic book nerds much in the same way that I’m a referee nerd (I get a monthly publication called REFEREE…dead serious).  A guy who’s costume is a black and white striped shirt who runs up and down a rectangular court with a whistle in his mouth talking about the importance of Legal Guarding Position several times a week doesn’t have a lot of room to talk.  Super human powers aside…I smell like Ben-Gay most nights of the week.

My breakfast is now part of a revolution.  Oatmeal.  Keep the Man from keeping you down…eat your oatmeal.

sigh...oatmeal and not sweet delicious donuts...

sigh…oatmeal and not sweet delicious donuts…

Saw this and kind of had to agree…



Finding new songs that get my toe a tappin’ is always a good thing…even though this songs been out for awhile.


Thanks for reading.  God bless and have a great week!



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