– don’t overreact when you see a runner in your lane while driving. Just veer your car over a few feet. Swerving completely over to the other side of the street is pointless.
– most civil engineers were not runners
– people who are so careless that they allow their dogs to chase me should lose the right to own a dog. You suck and are a failure as a pet owner
You know that you are introverted when you dictate messages and send them versus using the same effort (or less when you take editing into account ) to just call someone.
When you get the answer you want, stop asking the question
I noticed that most of my Auto Correct after-the-fact corrections are just for my own dignity. I know the message recipient understands what I was attempting to communicate, but I just don’t want them to think I am stupid so I send a correction anyway.
It’s not like I hang out with the Amish very often. They are known for having high quality carpentry stuff, so every few years I end up out in Amish country shopping for deck material, sheds, etc.
It is always an interesting, unsettling experience on a few different levels. This particular region caters to tourists, so there is frequent interaction between the Amish and “regular” people. These Amish (well, actually probably all of them at this point) are aware of the technology available to them, so it is a strange sight to see a guy plowing a field with horses. While most of the world is frantically trying to find more efficient ways to do everything, the Amish are determined to remain in a19th century existence. I’m sure that it is my own ignorance of their culture that makes this continue to seem odd, and I vow to put the research of Amish culture in the queue (along with about a thousand other things) of subjects that I need to get up to speed on, to understand why a subculture would believe that God would prefer them to live in the past.
Perhaps the most unsettling part of the interaction with this culture was something that I witnessed while waiting to get seated in an Amish restaurant. The hostess was dressed in the traditional Amish style, a long dress, apron, and a head covering, while the customers next in line were a couple who had just gotten off of their Harley Davidsons, with tattoos, tank tops, and do-rags. It’s not like there was a dress code, but it just seemed disrespectful to dress down to that (comparative) extreme. It made me feel uncomfortable, even though I wasn’t dressed especially nice (although I did have sleeves). It felt like the couple was culturally dense, and that they were a caricature of how typical Americans dressed.
It would be interesting to have a candid conversation someday with an Amish person. Deep down, how does it feel to live this lifestyle? Is there a longing to throw on a pair of jeans and sip a cold beer? Or is the dedication so deep that these kinds of thoughts are infrequent ? Without the assistance of sodium-pentathol, I doubt that any true opinions contradicting this way of life would be shared with an outsider
This is not an indictment on the free market system, but wow, the commercial aspect of the funeral industry is something else. People die, and the survivors need services, and the network of service providers is extensive and efficient. The nursing home knows a good funeral home, the funeral home knows a good crematorium,video producer, florist, officiant, etc., it is just a well oiled machine to get your loved one from their deathbed into a urn and in front of their mourners. And I appreciate it all, because who wants to deal with all of this sh*t one morbid aspect after another?
My mom passed away at around 3am, and at that hour, what can I do? Of course, ancestry.com needed to be updated with a date of death for her. I’m so f*cking backwards and OCD, who else thinks of that?
I am on my way to my hometown to sit with my mother, as her death appears to be imminent. This event has been expected for several years. Mom has had multiple strokes, and I have watched her physical and mental condition drastically deteriorate, to the point where she is really not recognizable as the woman I called my mother.
The tale of her decline is tragic on a lot of levels, as it is also a partially self inflicted fate. Mom’s journey to her deathbed was precipitated by alcoholism. She was always a diehard drinker, but growing up, it was primarily just beer (from what I remember). The garage fridge was always fully stocked with cases of Miller Lite, the beer of choice for my parents for whatever reason. They drank daily, but seemed to keep it together. They didn’t lose jobs or the respect off the neighbors, and they always treated their kids with kindness.
Their drinking escalated as we matured, and the need for a minimal level of sobriety in order to properly care for us was alleviated. I blame this escalation for my descent into detachment. When you get drunk a part of you is disengaged and a lesser portion of you is available to others. In the absence of engaged parents, a vacuum was created in my life that was initially filled with nothing for a period of years. My sister filled the vacuum with drugs and alcohol-I would do the same with the latter. Imagine a 12 and a 14 year old fighting over a few beers that could be safely stolen out of a case without detection, then sharing a key that was used to puncture the can in order to shotgun it.
I escaped by reading, largely fantasy and sci-go. Dungeons and Dragons, Tolkien, and Herbert were my favorites. I rarely studied anything academic and my grades reflected this.
But never mind me for the moment, let’s stick with the subject of this blog, mom. Fast forward years later, the kids are adults, and a shaky alcohol-soaked marriage is reaching the end. Mom moved out of the house and in with a group of younger coworkers that also partied, but much harder. Mom, in her early 50s, discovered vodka. She got more and more sloppy, culminating with a major spill in a complete stupor at a graduation party for me. I had moved out of state at this point and hadn’t seen her in awhile, and was dismayed to see her transition to booze and its effects on her.
I visited less and less. Each time I would come home, my mom would start drinking heavily in anticipation of my arrival, and would be destroyed by the time I arrived. This got particularly embarrassing when I brought home a guests, so I rarely did.
Then the worst thing possible happened, she retired, and with the loss of structure In her life, the downward spiral increased its velocity. Now there was no reason to delay the party until after work, let the good times roll by making a nice stiff screwdriver along with that first cup of coffee and the morning paper.
To be continued…
We have all been issued a prescription for physical pain in our lives. Well no, not literally, but in a grand-scheme-of-things figurative sense. In what manner this prescription will be filled is unknown. Never mind science for a moment, let’s look at life like the big, unknown, karma-riddled crapshoot that it actually is. It is cliché to state that we are all dying from the moment we are born, but is that true? I don’t think so. We actually start dying when our bodies have reached their peak of development and instead of growing stronger, begin to level out an then decline. Our bodies and minds degrade at some point, and the physical activities that we took for granted throughout our youth, early adulthood, and middle ages will become more difficult or impossible. How trying and debilitating this period is will depend a great deal upon how we treated our bodies during our earlier years.
While we are all on this inevitable course, the speed that we will reach this destination and its severity will be determined by how much pain you were willing to endure on your own terms. If you were willing to endure regimented, controlled, temporary periods of pain and discomfort, your body will likely be more resilient to the pain of aging.
It becomes apparent which of us have embraced the pain and discomfort of exercise and nutrition with those who have avoided it. This began to resonate with me at high school class reunions – 10, 15, 20, and especially 25 years after we walked out of high school for the final time at 18 years old, it was very apparent that lifestyle choices were taking their toll. There are countless factors that determine if we age gracefully that are beyond our control, but the major one that we can usually control is our own physical fitness.
Atrophy and the comfort of being sedentary are not without a cost. I have a lot of familiarity with the “life is too short” culture; there are countless family, friends, and acquaintances that I’ve known throughout my life that are extremely proud not to value their own wellness. To this culture, life is too short to waste time exercising or eating things that aren’t deliciously served in huge portions. The irony of that mantra is that the life they feel is “too short” is most likely getting shorter, and this short life will be significantly diminished by the physical issues that will be suffered from neglecting their health.
Yes, I’m preaching. But I’m actually reacting to the sneers of my acquaintances at some of my wellness practices. The rolling of the eyes when I return from running a few miles. The shaking of the head or a snarky remark when I pass on seconds at dinner or decline an oversized portion of desert. There are so many that revel in their disregard for healthy practices. In actuality, a number of them may be okay – they may just have the luck and genetics to escape certain consequences for their lifestyle. But most won’t, and when they are accepting a heavy dose of the physical pain that is derived from self-neglect, there may be a degree of regret for not being willing to mitigate some of this pain by engaging in some proactive pain while they had the opportunity.
Very few events are more humbling and degrading than just randomly choking on your own saliva
Sensus Communis 