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Like a cup of cool water

glasswaterSometimes, it’s good not to be in control.  But.  This.  Is.  Not.  My.  Nature.

I could rightly be accused of being a control freak.  (I prefer to think of it as planned independence.)  That’s my default.  I don’t like feeling hemmed in.  I always want options.  I like flexibility.  I want to be independent.  I want to decide my own fate.

For example, I don’t carpool to work.  If I need to run an errand during lunch or after work, I don’t want to be limited just because I rode with someone that day.  Or, I don’t want every detail of a vacation to be planned because I wouldn’t want to become enslaved to the itinerary. Continue reading



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Embrace the gray

A few weeks ago, I turned 33.  Several friends joined our family to enjoy cake and ice cream together.  An older couple that was there asked me how old I was.  I made the dumb mistake of asking them how old they thought I was.  Maybe 39? Uh, no.  Try 33.  Really? (smiling…) I’m not sure how to take that.  I guess I figured that you seem wise beyond your years.  Really, you’re just 33?

As long as I can remember, I’ve always been mistaken for being older than my real age.  I’m not sure what about me exudes that kind of maturity.  But I’ll take it.

grayhair1I don’t actually have any gray hair . . . or at least very little of it.  Apparently, I don’t need any help on appearing mature.  But I really value the wisdom and life experience of those around me that have gray hair.  Of course, I’m using that as an euphemism for decades and decades of life.

What if we thought of gray hair as a badge of honor?  A sign of a life lived humbly, one day at a time, through thick and thin.  A sign that this person has accumulated wisdom the only way possible:  with time, perseverance, and patience.

So, I say — instead of covering, coloring, or otherwise hiding the gray, we should wear it gladly.  And look at others that are blessed with it as having earned it.

Okay . . . I know that gray hair can come prematurely.  And wisdom and age are not the same thing. Fine.  But you know what I mean.  If you really want to know why hair turns gray, take a look at this article.

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Why ‘blink fast’?

carcrash1I think I know why people go to races (NASCAR, Indy, F1, etc).  I think they go to see the crashes.  (Full disclosure: I don’t have a clue what I’m talking about.  I’ve been to a few minor races, but I’m not a racing fan.  The only race I follow is the Indy 500, and that’s primarily because that’s what people do in Indiana in May.)

Watching from the stands, my eyes are glued to the action, watching & waiting for someone to make a mistake or bump another car, then spin out of control.  It’s exciting, and it makes for a long, exhausting day.  Constantly scanning the field of cars, watching every turn, waiting, waiting.  The only reprieve from this focused concentration comes under a yellow flag.

I don’t think I’ve ever actually witnessed a crash happen.  Only the aftermath.  (You have to actually go to races to see one, or hope the camera guys are on their toes.  But it’s just not the same seeing it on TV.)

Sometimes, I’m distracted.  Looking at another part of the track.  In the restroom, taking a different kind of pit stop.  But even when I’m in my seat and watching intently, I blink.  Maybe a long blink, to kind of give my eyes a brief rest.

In the blink of an eye, I miss the big crash of the day.

I think that’s the way life is.  Only there are more distractions.  There are lots of interesting moments.  I miss most of them because I’m not paying attention, I’m in a hurry, or (if you’ll indulge me) I’m blinking.

Life goes by fast enough already.  And so much of it seems mundane and ordinary.  But does it have to be?  Methinks not.

So, I’m sitting up.  Paying attention.  Eyes on the track.  And I know I have to blink, but I’m going to blink fast.  I can’t wait to see something interesting happen.

So, blink fast it is.

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