Cold here this morning, fog rolled in and we are encased in a gray wet blanket, frozen drizzle is what the weather guessers call it and no sunshine in sight. Wintertime is a hard time for me, this is the time of the year, when you try and figure out how to get 5’6” of kid to shovel off 4” of snow on the driveway.
When you sit, locked down in your quiet abode, and try your very best to not lose your mind, or rather, what is left of it. That desperate time of the year and you check the mirror and say to yourself, “Did I have all this before Christmas?”
When you look at all of the clothes hanging on the exercise machine and seriously contemplate removing them and “working out.”
Nah … Aint gonna happen.
January almost half-over and suddenly the anxiety attack hits me with the rush of a full grown pit-bull. I have to get her something for Valentine’s Day, that illegal estrogen enriched holiday celebrated in America, sponsored by the chocolate moguls and those wonderful people who inhabit the cubicles of HallMark Cards.
Unfortunately despite my best efforts, I haven’t an inkling of what to do about it. It is not easy being a complicated and often confusing member of the tribe of man, I am far too complex for a quick fix from a trendy Michael Jordan no-tag t-shirt or newly acquired Facebook social status, and a number three size washtub full of newfound friends.
I am a guy … Well, that should be enough right there to explain it. Face it, I am a guy, and guys, well we do not have a clue.
We cannot look at you and say something like: “I hope this special day is infused with beauty and light and that all your hopes and dreams crystalize into a loving reality emanating from an equally loving universe. Keep thinking positive thoughts honey, I know there is a Brand-spankin-New-Prevo in your future …. Oprah was just saying the other day” …. and then I just kind of lose her.
I suppose in MY world it would or should have been different.
Something like … I remember the first day we met and I laid it out for her. “I’m a worn-out, emotional wreck who’s incapable of anything resembling warmth, love and intimacy, but I have a lot of money and you’ll never want for anything. I am a lover, and a fighter, a dirty old boxcar rider …. Hey? I even have a bus, and I look pretty good in a yellow T-shirt.”
Perhaps this cold, gray, nasty day would be a good time to work on my word skills, the fourteenth will be here before I know it. And as usual, “I will be lost as a Goose on the whole thing.”
It’s often not easy being a guy … But someone has to do it.