Image via Despair.com

Sometimes you have to look at the bright side to get through the tough times.

Boomerang — 1992

Coordinate.

You got to CO-OR-DI-NATE.

Patterns are the only way to go.

Mushroom patterns.

What!

You are not family. You are not friends. You are not even hi-and-bye acquaintances. You’re strangers. Complete I-don’t-know-you people who should respect the personal space radius surrounding me. At least a three to five yard circumference, depending on where we are. But you don’t get it. You just don’t. You walk on up with no regard for that piece of earth, that region, that atmosphere that surrounds me and that I lay claim to as soon as I walked into it. Psychologically speaking, it’s mine. I called it. But there you are, completely disregarding the rules of the universe, thus branding you a jackass.

I’m tired of you, constantly showing up. Unannounced.

If this goes any further, we might have lead roles on the latest episode of Oxygen’s Snapped!, and I assure you, you probably wouldn’t like the part. But you have no one to blame but yourself. And don’t claim ignorance. I know you know. You do. You know. You just don’t care and it’s this blatant disregard that really burns me out. If you keep at it, there’s no amount of chocolate that will help settle the wrath boiling within. So you better recognize and get steppin’. Recognize!

I wake up early, you know. I don’t like waking up early. I’m not a morning person, but I make it happen, because the reward is big. The beach. It’s nature. It has the perfect spot just waiting for me. It’s not too close to the waves, but not too far from the shoreline. Just close enough to hear the waves crashing and smell the salt of sea. It’s a place where the sand is soft and not too grainy. No seaweed in sight, no seagulls, and far enough from the volleyball courts so that I don’t get smashed with one in the face. The perfect spot for your towel. Me time with a view. These things are necessary for my own sanity. So I get there early, so I can get my spot. I scout the space. The beach is huge. Miles of space. But I figure out which piece of sand is best for me, and I set up my personal space radius. Towel. Chanclas. Beach chair. Bag.

This is me. This is my spot. Ready for “me time,” until they show up … personal space killers.

There it is. You see me. I know you do. You see the stretch of sand on the right, the stretch of sand on the left. Those patches are attached to me. Anything within arms or foot reach is within my personal space circle. You know that. I know you do, because I bet you don’t sidle up to anybody at the ATM machine. You give them their space. So why? Why do you insist on hijacking my personal space? There is plenty of  sand and space beyond mine. Plenty. And some without seaweed. But what do you?

The Personal Space Hijackers. It looks like I know them, right? My towel is next to the buckets. You would think I was part of the family, right? NO. No. I’m not.  These are the people who suck.

Are you kidding me!

Really?

I know you heard me and my suggestions for you to move further away. I know you saw my dirty looks and eye rolls when you didn’t. I know you heard my hostility. But no, that didn’t matter. Nice or angry, neither approach worked for you. You didn’t care. You just had your agenda to hijack my space and ruin my day. You suck. I bet if I were wearing a thong and showing half my ass, your wives and their crazy bitchy nature would have walked further down to the empty piece of land a few yards away. Thongs.

I’m not the thong-wearer. I’m a board shorts apparel owner. So in order to regain my personal space, I had to leave my perfect spot in search of another. I ended up surrounded by seagulls, seaweed scraps, and no direct view of the beach. Just cellulite and bikinis that really should have been one piece swimsuits.

Karma … you better handle this. Personal Space Hijackers suck. They really do. I hope there is a flat tire with no spare, no air-conditioning, and no cell service in their future. I really do.

Image via despair.com

Sometimes you just have to take a day and chocolate is the only answer.

Image via Quotesaday.com

As a writer sometimes the words do escape me …

Image via LeFunny.net

Things like finding a five-dollar bill in your freshly laundered Gain-smelling jeans.

Things like finding a spare key when you’re locked out of the house.

Things like the last Ghirardelli Dark Chocolate Square waiting for you at the bottom of the bag.

Things like being able to take the carpool lane when traffic is jammed and passing the jackass that cut you off in the process.

Things like the makers of Framboise who help you out on Friday nights.

Things like BenGay and ice packs to help your weary muscles and bones.

Things like FX and AMC that rock your world because you no longer have HBO.

Things like the bloggers who surprise you with awards and make you feel like a badass writer.

Now usually I’m on top of awards and I post my gold stars right away, but with all the training for the race it escaped me. But it’s never too late to acknowledge the people who think I’m “Guatacular.”

.

Cayman Thorn, Clay Watkins, and Jim. Cayman Thorn over at Drinks Well with Others nominated me for the Very Inspiring Award, which goes to show you that someone out there — a comic, sensitive genius himself – finds my sense of humor inspiring out there. Clay at Making The Days Count and Jim a Fit Recovery both nominated me for the Liebster Award. They both write about life and their own journeys to make the most out of it.

I totally accept these woo-hoo badges of honor and wanted to let them know that …

Image via QuotableCards.com

I know there are specific rules for these types of awards, like tell us a couple interesting facts about yourself, post the award on your site, and nominate 10 people … give or take. But I’m gonna break a few of these rules in order to pass both honors to blogs I think are definitely worthy of appreciation and gold stars. I appreciate the blogging love given to me and I send out double the love to the following bloggers who inspire me with their travels, their photographs, and their ability to make me laugh.

TBM at the 50 Year Project

Baz The Landy Out and About Having Fun

Stephen Kelly Creative

Patrick Latter at Hiking Photography

Justin Gawel at Ramblings From An Apathetic Baby

1PointPerspective

The Time is Write

Lame Adventures

They keep the blogosphere awesome and entertaining with adventure, dreams, pictures that are priceless, and comedy. Don’t forget comedy, it keeps the gray hair away and the blood pressure down. Feel free to stop by and get a dose of inspiration in a variety of ways.

A guy with a lot of Easter spirit.

I’m a little late on this one … but I couldn’t pass up the opportunity to show this guy’s Easter spirit at the horse track. I don’t know who he is or how much money he might have won, but when you see someone with such spirit you gotta take a picture and wonder why you didn’t bring your white suit and ears to race track.

Yes. The track. We spent Easter at the race track — a tradition going on about eight years now, maybe more. But even though I wasn’t wearing pastel colors and bunny ears, I still got lucky that day. I won 37 bucks on Foxy Boss to win. Good horse. I made Vietnamese Noodle Salad with something called fish sauce for the first time and it rocked. I avoided the crazy parents when I signed up for the early Easter Egg Hunt, and my kids got plenty of plastic colorful eggs. And while everyone was running for cover in their yellow dresses, me and my Lucky Jeans beat the pouring rain on Easter Sunday. Overall a good one.

Weekly Image of Life Courtesy of This Man’s Journey

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Horse Racing, Easter Eggs, and Cemeteries

Image via despair.com

Just when I thought I was doing a good job of checking off items from our Sandbox Adventure List, Happiness Project, and Bucket List …

Just when I thought my latest adventure at the Fight For Air Climb was great …

Just when I thought I was getting closer to teaching my kids life lessons worth remembering …

Just when I thought I could relax a little bit because I was getting my life groove back …

Just when I thought I was building …

Someone sends me something like this.

Dude.

I can’t afford to have pauses like this, especially when I think I’m on a roll. I don’t have anything this spectacular built. I don’t even have blueprints for something like this. I mean hey if you’ve got them, good for you. Me? I’m still trying to make lemonade here and sometimes it’s pretty tasty. Other times not so much.

Legacy, huh? I haven’t really thought about that.  Don’t know when I’m supposed to be thinking about it, or how often. I’m in my late thirties … I guess I better get on it then because apparently the years are short. But sometimes during these short years I wish people would remember to just relax and stop sending me reminders to carpe diem. I do a lot of carpe, but sometimes you just don’t want to carpe every second, of every minute, of every day. You need a break to relax, to reflect. You need a break to ice your knees from all the carpe you were doing the day before.

Carpe diem? Yes.

Better get on it? Yes.

Build Grand Canyons in your life? Yes.

But not today. Sometimes you just need to relax, decompress, and watch AMC.