I may be dumb. but at-least I'm slow

So I'll take a few minutes to share. To clear my head as it were. As if it were possible. I'm not seeing it. I love the title of this blog. It just seems to fit my life in its wierd puzzle piece fitting sort of way.

My existence on this planet has definately been interesting. I have definately seen some schnit. I have heard some things that would definately alter some folks reality. I have learned to laugh. I have learned to see humor. Everywhere. Everywhere. Which if you can't see the humor, then you can't deal with the pain. And if you can't deal with the pain, then your just lost anyway. In a world were so many people walk around in pain, humor gets it. Humor scratches that itch. If only for an instant. It takes you away.

Humor is my blues. Granted my harmonica may be broken, and my sunglasses may be store bought from a gas station, but so be it. If I can't be cool, at least I can be me. Which I suppose ain't cool. There are days when I definately feel depressed. Depressed. Days when I feel like the cowboy that been gutshot in the western. He knows its bad, but he's scared to look. He knows he's wounded, he just doesn't now how bad.

A friend of mine sent me a e-mail one-time talking about how self-pitying, self-serving I was. The friend pointed out my wounds one by one identifying them with salt. He indicated, almost prophetically that I was pretty messed up.

So here I am three years later. Blessed. Lucky. Cursed. Dumb enough to feel sorry for myself, but smart enough to know that the world is full of real suffering.

I survive on the smiles of my family, and a passion for sports. I cling to that. At times I feel that is all I have. However, if that is all I have.... then I am truly a rich man.

My Bloated Amphibious Valentine.........

I think valentines day is generally regarded as an annoying chocolate covered opportunity for men to purchase lingerie for women. Which actually, now that I think about it sounds pretty cool. In-fact I would even venture to say peanut-butter away from a trifecta.

But times change, and last night after a long day at work as I muddled through the masses of others dumb enough to shop at the last minute like myself, at large department stores; I found myself thinking this isn't quite the romance I was shooting for. After purchasing 2 large helium balloons and a potted rose bush, thing; Which to my defense I have been extremely busy. Also the wife was very tired after a full afternoon of being with the kids, which at least gave me some justification for hurrying with minimal guilt.

Finally, I return home with a have large inflated frog (don't ask), and a barely inflated (really I don't want to talk about it), one time "heart looking" balloon. I find myself standing in the doorway holding a bloated amphibian on a string and dragging a big red piece of, well, plastic, and small pot with some rose blooms (I think).

Then like walking into another world, I am greeted by my 2 gleeful minions and my spouse. I am suddenly enveloped in this huge wave of positive energy. This warm blanket of happiness and love. AWESOME. The balloon. HUGE. COOL. The kids played and played with the frog; and dragged the plastic around with essentially equal glee. The smiles. Magical. Healing. Priceless.

Its like one minute I'm doing that job I do. I've probably cursed more times than the upper section of Yankees-Red Sox game. I've told jokes that Andrew Dice Clay would have removed from his act for embarrassment. All of which is done basically to survive.

But then. Then I hit that door, and its different. I don't know if my blinders pop off, or my rose colored glasses pop on; I just know I'm in a better place. And I find myself wishing that time could stand still. Forever. Forever.

Life however, like time doesn't stand still. It simply keeps on going. Reminding me daily that its rich fullness lies in the details, and if I will, but for an instant; shut up, and pay attention. Then its true beauty, which has always been present, will reveal itself. Always. If I could give anyone any advice at all. I would say "hush". "Listen". Listen for the beauty.

I was talking to a good friend the other day on the phone, when my son came over to me and basically, in three year old e's; told me to put down the phone and spend time with him. "Hush"

The Pulse

Country music. Whether you like it, or not; has captured the pulse of life. Country understands people. It acknowledges weaknesses, short comings, dreams, and angst. Its cool that way. Like a comedian you love, because when he speaks about the pain of life, you say, "I've been there." Then you LAUGH of all things. Country acknowledges mans foibles. People listen, and survive. They survive. They get through that long day. That job they hate. That relationship that their trapped in. In fact, Country music gets them out of that life their trapped in. Its says I've been there. Done that, and I have the beer stands to prove it.

Rock is mythology. Rock is angst. Rock shouts and shakes its fist at the world, while the angry masses shake their fists with it, and say, "yeah thats right we're here and we're pissed". Rock talks more about what we want it to be, and less like what it is. Rock is immature. Rock is at times a tantrum. Rock to me is less grounded in reality. Which escape can be good. To each his own.

Country, says this is where we are. Sometimes it says, I wish I was somewhere else, but it still looks at escape from inside the walls of whatever factory, hourly wage prison folks are trapped in. Folks. Not people. Country is folks. Pop is people. Rock is people with multiple piercings and bad hair cuts. Country music is the dog that you love. Your pal. Who is always there, and doesn't pee on things. Rock to me is an annoying yap dog. A little dog that won't shut up and tries to hump your smaller couch pillows.

Now I say this as a tweener. I was raised mostly in the North, by folks from the South. Which basically says, "I'm relatively obnoxious, even annoying; but I can still make grits and out Bass fish you on any day, with any fishin pole and 2 plastic worms.

j

Guest Blog "Cart Rage"

The following is a rant from one of my oldest and dearest and most pregnantest friends. Enjoy.

I am the Wife and the Mommy, and somewhere along the way a part of these titles also translated into "primary grocery shopper for the family." In fact, my husband will tell you that one of the reasons that he got married was to never, ever, have to set foot into a grocery store again. Fortunately for our relationship, I hate to perform any kind of car maintenance (from oil changes to putting on the winter tires) beyond updating my bumper sticker(s), and he's quite fastidious about it. Anyways. I do the grocery shopping.

As "just" the wife, I had the luxury of using a relatively small cart to zip through the aisles and to whirl circles about slower shoppers or those who were stuck, mid-aisle, while they compared prices. Now as the Mommy, I have two children who diligently (that is: "have no choice") accompany me on the weekly outing, and I've gone from the two-tiered zippy cart to the ultra two-seated cart with the "car" attachment on the front (which seats a total of 4 kids).

First of all, have you ever tried to steer one of those things? They're as long as a Cadillac and have a strange center of gravity that makes it kindof impossible to take sharp corners or to stay in your "lane" when cruising an aisle.

Secondly, with a very active 3-year old sitting in the car attachment, it is not wise to stay in my "lane" in every aisle unless I'd like him to collect food items from the bottom shelves as we're going through the store (usually, I try to get him to sit on the left-side of the car, and I say a small "thanks!" to whomever designed the car with belts to clip my kid in).

Lastly, trying to empty the cart onto the checkout belt by reaching over the car and into the cart all the while jammed between gum and the latest tabloid splattered with Britney Spears just makes my back hurt. But my main gripe with grocery shopping is this: who in the heck has put all of the cardboard "displays" in the aisles? Are you kidding me? They're always staggered down the aisle on alternating sides and they're usually in front of something that I am reaching for, so I end up trying to move the "display" which is usually flimsy and in danger of falling apart at the slightest touch.

They also jam up the flow of shoppers in the aisle, even if I'm shopping early in the day and practically no one else is there. How many times is someone parked with their cart across the aisle from one of these senseless displays of food seasoning (or whatever), causing both "lanes" of cart traffic to stop?

Or that I encounter another Mommy with the uber-cart coming the other way and we end up in a stand-off until one of us takes the open lane to get by? Pushing that behemoth of a kiddy-cart around, there is no way that I can squeeze between another shopper and a display, so I have to sit there and wait for traffic to clear up, while my kid is taking things from the bottom shelves, until someone moves along. The best situation is when someone positions one of these extra aisle-advertisements at the end of an aisle so when I am blindly maneuvering my cart into that aisle, I run into it. I just LOVE that.

Honestly, I don't understand road-rage but am thinking that I'm going to be acting out some kind of cart-rage the next time that I encounter a crowded aisle of displays or run one over by accident taking a blind turn. I can't wait to be banned from my regular shopping store for bad manners when all I'm asking for is for the stuff to be put on the shelves where it belongs!!

(sigh)

five good minutes.......

I am taking five good minutes to do some writing. Five good minutes. This is good to relax. Bad if your making love. I'm sure there is a medication for preventing five not good minutes of love making. I know there are medications which indicate that 4 hours of what I will call the "potential" to please your partner. Its interesting to me, because they always say if you suffer from the "potential" for more than 4 hours, you should go to an emergency room. Ok. What about who-ever you are pleasing. If they have been a part of this "broadcast" for 4 hours they might need some medical attention too.

Just a thought. Aaaaaaah Valentines Day is once again upon us. Interesting day. Valentines day. It makes me think a short chubby winged voyeristic guy with of all things arrows with potential to make you have "Potential" for pleasure lasting anywhere from "five good minutes" to "Four hours resulting in trauma".

Peace, and happy Valentines

j