Ok, so maybe we’re in one of the worst economic slumps most of us have ever known, we’re all realizing we’re poorer than a soggy Ritz cracker, and if we’re not careful someone is going to foreclose on the U.S. and make us all go live in Bangladesh. Times are tough, I know, but let’s remember something this time of year: There’s a lot to still be thankful for. It’s not all gloom-and-doom. Sure, we don’t have any money to spend and our 401ks have been reduced to 328bs. But is that what it was always about? No way. Besides, sometimes it takes a financial hardship to make us take stock of our lives (not just our money) and focus on what’s important — what’s really meaningful to us. So in the spirit of Thanksgiving, and to get you thinking along these lines, too, here are just a few things I’m grateful for this year: Running, now that I can again — A few months back a surfboard fin on my own board decided it was really a pirate’s cutlass. And it attacked my thigh like a good pirate should causing all kinds of problems. But I’ve been back out pounding the pavement again the past couple months, and I feel great. Running is swell. I love it. It’s relaxing, exhilarating, and there’s nothing better than a runner’s high. Lots of people ask what that is exactly. Well, it’s a sign that not enough oxygen is getting to your brain. […]
Happy Animalversary, Chase Dog
I don’t know how old my little hound dog is. All I know is we just celebrated 10 years with her — a truly special animalversary. Chase, the dog, got a fish stick with a lit candle in it. OK, that’s pretty sad for such a special occasion, but the dog sure was excited and everybody knows the firstborn gets somewhat forgotten once the secondborn comes along. But what it lacked in pomp and circumstance was sure made up for in memories of 10 wonderful years. A dog can bring such joy to a family, and my goofball of an animal has certainly done that. It’s kind of incredible that it was a decade ago that my wife and I trekked off to the Humane Society in search of a K9. We had been married just a few months and found ourselves in a house of our own. So why not ruin it with an animal who might chew up the furniture and cause smells like a cross between a high school locker room and a cow barn? We strolled down the enclosures looking for the right dog, trying to sort out in a glance who would make the perfect lifelong companion. I know I would have loved any animal we had picked, but I also know my life would not have been as rich without Chase.
Election’s Over. What Do We Do Now?
Something just occurred to me recently: There has actually been other news going on in the world besides the election. I just realized this. Did you know? There are, believe it or not, journalists out there writing stories about people and events that don’t have anything to do with Obamas, McCains or electoral colleges. Weird, huh? Apparently no one told them an election was going on, and the world didn’t go on hiatus. For, I don’t know, the past two years I’ve been like many Americans who were glued — and maybe even addicted — to election coverage. It’s all we read, watched and talked about. It became an obsession. And then, just like that, it ended. It went away, abandoning our need for 24-hour election coverage. Now we have to find a way to go on without it. But how? Someone show us the way? It’s been tough adjusting to life after the election. No more polls to check, no more stories to read about the state of the race, and no more guessing about the score of the game after the final whistle. The political E-mails have all dried up, and it’s back to the former non-sense like videos of dancing cats or people getting hit in their private areas by stray objects. Well, OK, so that’s a little like politics, but still it’s not the same.
Hammer Blows and Thumb Abuse
Thumb abuse is real. It’s not just something you read about in newspapers or see on TV shows. It happens, pretty often. I’m living proof. Or my thumb is. It looks a bit like a miniature eggplant — a shade of purple so alien it’s found nowhere in nature. Maybe a lollipop, but not nature. And it’s throbbing. It’s throbbing and I can hear it. It sounds like, “I hate you. I hate you. I hate you.” It’s referring to me. How did it happen? How does it ever happen? Idiot with a hammer. Bad eye-hand coordination. No gloves on. Idiot was on roof getting tired and careless. Truth be told, I was probably thinking of cold beer and beef jerky. I lost my concentration and whacked that stub of thumb with a hammer swing that could have broken rocks. SMACK! The pain was otherworldly. It felt like a stick of dynamite going off in my hand. It was one of those silent scream pains where you mouth it, but just can’t get it out. Your mouth jerks open wide and squirrels check you over considering whether to build a nest in there. In another dimension, people wondered about the blood-curdling cry they heard.