Month: September 2017

Or not.  Just when I think this Boomlennial is overflowing with wise nuggets of worthless info that everyone is clamoring for I realize I got nothin.  My mind might be shooting in a hundred different directions with hurricanes, satellites that I don’t understand, and beach vacations that I do understand now more than ever, but nothing Boomlennial worthy.  We still need a bit of Zing to keep our interest and I don’t think my theory on the locust invasion as the next unnatural disaster will pull you in.  Just trying to keep your attention here and waiting for some brilliance to overtake me.  Not happening.  But do come back.  #locustsouprecipe

Don’t Wanna Know.  Don’t Wanna Care.

I saw this sign in a bar in Montana and took a picture of it which was kind of pathetic in it’s own right since I was surrounded by beautiful scenery in 3D and didn’t take many shots (oh yes I did).  Did I say I was in a bar in Montana?  Anyway,  bars are where all the great world philosophers hang out.  And they get wiser as the evening wears on, and better looking BTW.  Until they also think they can dance and end up looking like Elaine from Seinfeld.  Time to go.  But the sign stuck with me as a reminder that sometimes you just have to hit the ‘pause’ button.  Most Boomlennials have big lives.  Big families, or little families that seem like big families.  Big jobs, or big thoughts on looming retirement and what to do about that.  Or not.  Appointments with doctors, lawyers, and Indian Chiefs.  Important stuff, or trivial sh*t that we treat as important sh*t.  And it all just makes us care too much about sh*t.  We no longer have one calendar hanging in the kitchen, but another always at our side sending out pings and pongs notifying us that something oh-so-important is happening Beware!  Which is great when your football pick is due, but not so great when yoga starts in fifteen minutes and you are trying to pretend like you forgot about it.  Which just happened and now I’m feeling like I probably should just go to yoga instead of rattling on about sh*t.  Don’t care, don’t wanna care.  Namaste.

What a great word!!  After you write a blog instead of hitting enter or post or some other benign word you touch Publish and voila.  You are a ‘published’ author and I like it.  It’s the little things….

Ok those last two words were totally unnecessary.  I’ll give you a minute for a huh and a brief chuckle.  Over the years I imagine we have all tried to run for what ever reasons.  Weight loss, fitness, an excuse to buy new shoes, to be able to join in lively reparte at a cocktail party, and of course because we are basically pack animals and everyone was doing it.  And some actually liked it which still baffles me.  But now?  Most of those hardcore runners are facing some hardcore truths.  Some of those body parts weren’t really made for that constant pounding and are ready for the scrap heap.  Hip, shoulders, knees and toes, knees and toes.  Hip, shoulders, knees and toes, knees and okay you get it.  And just try not to continue singing it in your head.  Eyes and ears and….. So back to not running.  I am finally glad that I didn’t enjoy one second of it and was content to do lots of other fun, physical things that hopefully spared my original pieces and parts while providing some health benefits.  I can walk in Forrest Gump’s path and feel great in mind and body afterward.  My Fitbit tells me I’ve walked the Paris subway system and from San Fran to Seattle and lotsnlots of other fine destinations but I don’t feel like I’ve abused myself.  Although the runners high might have been lacking, the walking got/gets rid of a lot of demons and cobwebs and that is  a benefit that isn’t as sexy as a high, but having your original knees has a certain amount of sex appeal.  Or maybe I’m still feeling guilty for not running….