2012-Anxiety

We are standing on the edge of 2012 and I got to say, there is a lot of anxiety about it. Anxiety is just fluff unless there is some meat to it, some reality to go with our anxiety, and it looks like there is some of that to support our worries. A lot, as a matter of fact, like a whole herd of it.

The economy is starting to crawl out of the mire, unless of course, the European market tanks, which it probably will, sending us back into an even deeper tail spin. There's some good news for people struggling to keep or even find a job.

How about another earthquake like the one in Japan that we all got to see whole towns get slowly washed away. Like it was some bad NFL film in slow-motion, only this one was real.

Lets not forget the election of a new president or keeping the old one. You get two people pointing their fingers in the exact opposite direction and BOTH are telling the truth, at least a part of it is true, and its up to the voting public to figure out what part. That just makes the elections in November kinda sporty.

Of course you have to add in those wacky Mayans and their calendar ending on December 21st, symbolically meaning the end of the world. Couldn't it also mean they may have just run out of paper? Hmm? I mean, how far should they have carried out their calendar? When is too many days enough days for everyone to get the idea?

Add to all this the polar caps are melting and polar bears may become extinct; well there ya go, enough worries for all of us. So, what do we do?

We just need to love each other.

Yep, love. I said the 'L' word. This from a guy who thinks the use of a 2x4 along some of our politicians heads would be really good about now. We link arms and love each other. Now, if you know me you would know I am talking about love like god kind of love but what about finding that president of Iran a good woman? Huh? Bat-crap crazies need love too. Or all those Ayatollahs-have them find a woman that will peel her scarf away from her face long enough to give that guy a wink and a smile and he will forget all about being friends with the Al Queda-guaranteed.

How about when we get stressed, we call a friend and say "Hey, its me. I'm stressed." How about if we share that? Then the friend comes over and they sit outside and drink some soda and talk about crap? Or we take a kid who's dad or mom is over seas, divorced, dead and we go to a ball game, a burger, or just to Costco and they ride on the cart while we push?

If we are at the top of the food chain financially, it isn't far or even hard to fall to the bottom. Those at the bottom or in the middle can attest to that. It doesn't take a lot to stumble and hit bottom. The difference between me and that guy holding the cardboard on the corner can sometimes be tracked to one bad choice-that led to a second, then a third.

So what else can we do? Well, actually, that could be enough, oh, wait. We need to do one more thing. We all need to send President Ahmadinajad the link to E-Harmony. Hey, it could work.

Windows

It's early Christmas day. I couldn't sleep. Actually, the two dogs woke me. Sometimes, they need to climb up on the bed and curl up on the corner. Of course each weigh about eighty pounds and they take up more than the corner. Somehow, we all wind up back asleep, at least for awhile. This time, however, they got me up, wide awake, walking the quiet halls and kitchen, looking out the window, overlooking the street and the front yard.

A year ago, there was a different tune-a different dance. We were all running this time last year with the thought of one of our own so far away and yet was able to come home. A new grandchild on the way. We had jobs an fairly free of illnesses. This year was so much better?

So, I stood there in the kitchen, looking out at an empty street with random decorative lights, frost on the lawn-quiet. It wasn't so different. The same lawn, the same random lights, maybe a different neighbor or two, and our own was home, but still pretty much the same.

I don't want it to be the same.

There is a line in the movie, Miracle on 34th Street  where Santa is talking to the store manager about whether he really exists. The manager, if you remember the movie, is a sad sort and wanted everyone to be as sad as she was. She had trust issues, like the rest of us. He told her he was symbolic for hope, peace, there's a chance of a better life in this rough time some of us live. Nice, but how do you tell someone who lost a child, a home, a job-"Hey, Santa says there is hope, peace, there is a chance a better way. Thanks for listening. Have a good day under that bridge with your mental illness."

Yeah, you don't. Unless--there is. Unless there is actual hope, peace, a chance at both. Funny thing, as I found myself getting older, both of those elements weigh heavily with me. We opened our presents last night and I got a package of socks. Not just any package, a dozen white socks!! Now, right now, if you are a man, particularly a middle-aged man and you heard that present, you are drooling a little out of the corner of your mouth. I sat in a chair in the back and watched the rest of the family, particularly the grand kids open some of their stuff. I watched their parents. I like watching people-no not from an alley with binoculars. I use to do that-not anymore.

What can we be content with? How about being known for who we are? With all our garbage and issues; with all our baggage and our cabinets full of lotions. What if we were accepted-just the way we are? How would that change the running for the brass ring?

The tile floor in the kitchen was cold. I like to turn down the heat at night so little icicles form on the ceiling. I got a drink of water and walked back to bed, trying not to stub my toes on anything. Have you ever gotten up at night, half asleep, trying to take care of business without waking fully, only to stub your food on a chair, bringing you way beyond awake? Well, thinking about doing it does the same thing. Anyway, I crawled back into bed, pushing one dog out of my spot where she found my body heat had warmed it to a nice temp. She grumbled and then moved back to the foot of the bed.

Sometime in the next day or so, go stand at a window before dawn and take a look outside. See if you see it. See if you want to see it.

Merry Christmas.

T'is the Season to be a Ninja!

There are few things I do right. There are even fewer things I do well. But when I have to go shopping and  its this time of year-shopping alone,  I'm like a ninja!

Yesterday, I was able to slide into the mall, access my predetermined target, and egress the zone, arriving back to my car and pulling out on the street in a total time of fourteen minutes! I was like a F-15 Strike Eagle, covertly arriving at a back, not well known parking lot, hitting the door and sliding inside. Sometimes, when I am walking, and truly in the zone, I am flying at low altitude, in and out of the racks of clothes, flying my mission well under the radar.

The ninja (yes, ninjas fly Strike Eagles-geez) slid passed the elderly couple as they approached the front door to the store, hitting one of the other doors while simultaneously, reaching into my pocket, finding some change-any change, and plopping into the red bucket operated by the only witness to my parking, the Salvation Army Bell Ringer. I bought his silence and his gratitude with whatever landed in the pot. He was now on my side.

I walked quickly, yet silently, my Asic-gels making me almost invisible to normal ears. Then, the first problem.

I had to pee.

Mentally, I had predetermined that was going to be an issue. Its always an issue. I'm fifty-three. It is just a precursor to my future in life.

I mentally suppressed it. Besides, the nearest restroom did not appear in my vision as I moved  like a panther through the men's section and the bushes just outside were, well, just outside.

That's what a ninja would do-use the bushes or mentally suppress it. I had a mission and I was going to complete it.

There is a fairly well known law of shopping for women. If you land close on the purchase, chances are, you will win. What I mean by that is, for example, if she wants jeans and you get her something close to what she wants, like in the same color spectrum, she'll be happy. Why? Because she gets to take it back and go shopping and get something she really wanted and it probably won't be jeans. You do it enough times, she will come home with a new bedroom set. That's when you know you went too far.

I'm not going to give you all the facts of the mission. There is some deeply classified stuff I can't share. I won't share. We shopping ninjas are a very closed mouth group. We pass down our lore from generation to generation. My son, for example, already pees behind bushes, not at his own home. For the rest of you, the best I could suggest, the only real help you have-

Shop on line.

As for the rest of the ninja warrior shopping crowd remember-

'Domo shitsu aragato wasabi'
I would like fries with that