TGIF

It’s Friday!

And no matter how old I get and no matter that I pretty much work every weekend, I still get excited about Friday.

So what do I like to do on a perfect Friday night?

The answer is quite easy for me. It has to do with me, my lady, some Pinot Noir, some Van Morrison, some candles and some time.

There is nothing mo’ better than a relaxing Friday night.

There’s just something beautiful about life and I seem to want to celebrate it every chance I get. But the most wonderful thing is finding the person to celebrate with.

And isn’t that just the thing the see all the time when you go out?

I think about aging all the time and the subtle differences that you notice as you get older. There aren’t many huge changes, but there are small ones, that if you pay attention, you can start to notice.

I’m only 45 and I really still feel like I did at 18 except for the extra weight, fewer hairs and the aching joints.

On the bright side, I’ve got lots more money and I’m much less nervous about what I’m going to do when I grow up and I no longer worry if everything’s going to turn out alright.

But the small things that I do notice sometimes drive me crazy. Take last Saturday night for instance. Me and two buds from high school went to a popular local watering hole for some much needed time and beer. We sat there observing (I notice we do lots more observing these days than we did in 1979) and the one thing we all observed was that young boys are jerks as they attempt to impress the single ladies. It’s the entire mating ritual, and that’s what it really is, that is so damn funny to watch. They puff up and express themselves in such amazing detail.

I am left wondering if I ever acted like that and if some middle-aged guys were off to the side watching, laughing as I acted my part in the ongoing saga of boy meets girl.

Well, if I did, I apologize to whomever had to see that.

I guess I am so secure in who I am, what I think, who I love and all the other things that life as an observer is quite fine for me. I miss nothing in the arena of participation.

And I live a blessed life. I guess I’ve always known that. But my blessings the past year have just been such that I feel like I don’t even deserve them. Yet there they are and all I am left with is more gratitude than I know what to do with.

So thank you. Thank you so very much.

I love to look into a sky so blue that it hurts your eyes just to look at it (borrowed from Burt Lancaster in Field of Dreams). I love to smell the grass that is freshly mowed. I love to smell the rain before it get to you. I love the ocean breeze. I love children when they first wake up in the morning. I love the smell of coffee.

The list could go on and on. And besides hatred, intolerance and bigotry, there’s just not much that I hate or fear.

So here’s to life after halftime. I hope yours is just as wonderful.
Peace.