I’m not cool, and I’m cool with that.

I wasted a lot of energy when I was younger worrying about being cool. It’s way more fun to forget about that, and just be yourself.

(Tears filled my eyes as I typed that.)

The less I cared about being cool and the more I decide to become the kind of person I admired the more I like myself.

For some people the number 13 is synonymous with bad luck and

13 makes them pause, hesitate, and even back away.

It’s considered unlucky to have:
– 13 guests at a dinner party
– a 13th floor in a building 
– a wedding on the 13th of the month
– or to buy a house on the 13th of the month

On behalf of my son Josh, and all students starting school this week and next, allow me to remind you of these excellent suggestions:

Ask questions, it will help you in the long run. 

Be yourself, you will be more popular that way.

Check for toilet paper when you enter the stall.

Don’t procrastinate; there won’t be time later.

Get good sleep, each night, it makes school easier.

If you fall asleep in class, expect your teacher to embarrass you.

I want to start a petition so Twitter.com offers a one-time-use 313 character exception!

On Twitter I follow family and friends, athletes and musicians, world-changers, and beat writers, but nothing, nothing, nothing has made me wanna tweet and re-tweet more than this:

“Gently encourage the stragglers, and reach out for the exhausted, pulling them to their feet. Be patient with each person, attentive to individual needs. And be careful that when you get on each other’s nerves you don’t snap at each other. Look for the best in each other, and always do your best to bring it out.” 1

I am rhythmically challenged.

I am rhythm deprived, I know it, if you know me well, and you know it too.

Many of you have made fun of me to my face; probably as payback for some mischief I perpetuated.

What’s it look like to be rhythm deprived?

While everyone else rocks to the music, I’m hunting for the beat.
While everyone else is caught up in the groove, I’m wondering which way to move.

When I clap, I follow.
When I tap, I wonder; “How soon will I lose the beat?”
When I dance, I count and watch others.

Limits Drain Me

Actually that title was just a clever word play.  The truth is some limits drain me, other limits free me.

Let me tell you about my drain problem.

Our washing machine drains into a tub in our laundry room.  A couple days ago we discovered the sink that the wash machine drained into was stopped up. After we whined, tried to assign blame and avoided the problem we began to conquer our drain problem.

After two days later we finally conquered it.  Now our basement looks like this photo.

Yesterday my wife Amy & I celebrated our 24th wedding anniversary.

Thinking back to when I asked Amy’s dad Ron for permission to marry his youngest daughter I can only imagine his thoughts.  Having had three children already married lessened the shock, but it’s a huge risk to say “You have my blessing” to a relative stranger.

I never asked, but I imagine he must have though many things including:

“She’s our baby!?!”

Yes, Amy is their youngest child and a dearly beloved daughter.  in fact, Amy’s name means “Beloved” and she is and was the beloved daughter of Ron & Rose Fayas.