Life at 3 miles an Hour

This past week we had the, quite unplanned, unwanted, unnecessary, uncool, opportunity to know what it feels like to be a victim of idiot thieves. We joined the thousands who have been victims of “forced entry burglary”. Our house was broken into on Wednesday afternoon within the one short hour that we were across the street at the office. The general theory is that we were being watched…..like I should feel important or something that low life thieves with bad family histories were watching my life. The only thing that I take comfort in is that, for all the effort they went through to turn our house upside down like a CIA raid, there was not much to be had. I wonder why that is? Oh, yeah, because we don’t have much. Don’t get me wrong, as far as much of the rest of the world goes, we are wealthy beyond measure, and we are grateful and enjoy everything that we have. What I mean is, in the land of thieves, it wasn’t exactly “Oceans Eleven”. Certainly not worth going to jail for...

In my early days of existence, I can remember being asked if I had woken up on the wrong side of the bed. I came to understand that as a social commentary about the mood that I was in. I didn’t really know what that meant, I mean really, as long as there is floor on both sides for me to step down on, I don’t see what difference it makes which side I wake up on. Unless it has something to do with the olden days, when people were so poor that they could only afford one side of a bed. I’m not sure how relevant that saying was in my formative years. However, every once in awhile, I do feel as if I woke up on the opposite side of the world. It’s not like it’s the wrong side, it just feels opposite. It may be because the first ¾ of my life has been spent on the east coast, I don’t know. This morning it was sparked by listening to an old Jackson Browne tune on Pandora that I used to listen to quite often in my dorm room during my days at the University of Buffalo. For a brief moment ...