Part 2 "Carry on my wayward son. There'll be peace when you are done." Kerry Livgren

Three weeks after my birthday, my Mom, Lisa and I left for a vacation back home to Kansas. My best friend Lee said he had a feeling that I wasn't coming back. I assured him that I was absolutely coming back. I had been to Kansas. Although I hadn't been there in 29 years I knew what to except. Small towns, friendly people, rolling hills and acres and acres of farm land. Kansas didn't disappoint. It was exactly as I remembered.

We spent next few days soaking in the mid west lifestyle with my most gracious Aunt Peggy playing host/tour guide. Meeting family members that hadn't been born the last time I was home and catching up  with family members that have been my role models for my entire life. Lisa and I both really felt at home.

Lisa and I made the 190 mile trip to my Dad's hometown of Osawatomie.  Along the way we joked " That could be our farm if we moved here. " at every homestead we passed. From the fancy 10 bedroom ranch houses up on the hill, to the doublewides trying to scratch out a living from half acre of beans.

We headed back to Florida much too soon. It wasn't long into the trip before the conversation turned to the subject of the places we went. The people we had seen.  And just the feelings the things we had experienced.
 Lisa loved sitting outside on the porch in the morning, drinking her coffee. I sat with her, noticing how fresh and clean the air was. At the same moment Lisa remarked that " it smelled like morning". She was right.                                                                          

Rebecca, Dorothy, and Lois Brown

 Mom's favorite part was the family reunion.  It was my grandparents anniversary. Just being there with her family made her so happy. But she really lit up when her Aunt Beck arrived. The whole room did. I had never met her in my adult life. Peggy had just shown me pictures of her as  a child from 80 years ago the night before. I recognized her instantly. Mom spent the majority of the rest reunion sitting and talking with her aunt. It had been a long time since I had seen her that happy.









 It was really hard for me to narrow down my favorite moment. There were so many to choose from.  I finally landed on a weird one.Just as we crossed  over the KS/OK border we made a pit stop in little one horse town with an all night gas station.  The ladies went inside to get drinks and freshen up. I went back  outside to have a smoke. The wind was blowing hard, about 20 miles an hour out of the south. It was like standing in front of blast furnace. The wind it's self was hot, I'd guess about 85 degrees, and dry.  


In Florida that doesn't occur.Winds in Florida are almost always cool because they blow across the gulf or the Atlantic ocean. The water is cooler than the land and chills the air. Either that or they are down burst winds caused by rainstorms which by nature are cooler than the surrounding air mass. Another thing is the wind is very humid from blowing through the rain or across the water. If are lucky enough to stand in a sustained 20 mph wind, you'd end up damp. Just this little change in atmosphere enthralled me.Well once again I've prattled on much longer than I intended. I had hoped to finish this story in this post, but it doesn't look like that is going to happen. So please stay tuned. I promise I'll finish it in our next episode...

Family Reunion 2011

Why "Living In Dog Years" you might ask? Well that's how I intend to live the rest my days on this planet. Dogs have much shorter life span than humans. Most put it as a ratio of 7 to 1. Yet they can still lead a forefilling existence. I plan on cramming 7 years of happiness into every lap around the sun.

As usual I'm getting ahead of myself. Let's rewind a bit.

A few weeks ago it was my 45th birthday. All in all not a bad day. I slept well, I had a good supper, I spent a little time with my family. Chris baked me a birthday cake ( super chocolate with chocolate frosting  my favorite). Then it was time to go to work. This is where the day took a 180. My job is a crappy one. So crappy I couldn't get my birthday off. I've already resigned myself to this fact, so I kissed my wife and grandbaby goodbye and headed on in.

The first couple of hours were pretty uneventful. Then out of nowhere I started having stomach pains. I spent the next few hours pulling over trying to find a bathroom every 20 mins. I finished out the night in agony. The next day, still horribly sick, I went to the E. R. where I was diagnosed with diverticulitis. Not a death sentence, but not the most comfortable thing to live with. The main causes of which are poor diet and stress. I took it as a birthday card/wake up call from Mother Nature ...( Hello... Welcome to middle age.)...So I had to make some changes.

A couple of days later Anthony and I were talking about all this. I was saying that I needed to find a different line of work. I said anything would be better. I could work at office supply store and be happy selling ink pens and toner. I could work at a pet store and be happy selling fish food and playing with puppies all day. Anything at all would be better than my needlessly stressful job.


Note this post started to get really long so I broke it up into smaller bite sized chunks. To be continued...

"You're My Best Friend" Freddy Mercury

The picture on the background of this page is my best friend ever. Yes I realize it's a dog. His name was Falcor. He left us 05/28/20008. No this isn't going to be a blog about " BooHoo ... I miss my poor little dead dog...Wahhhh!".

Truth is Falcor was my best friend. Which wasn't unusual for me. Over my lifetime I've been friends with many dogs. Not detract from my human friends. People like Lee, Charles, Christy and Steve, have always been there for me. But even the best of humans (hopefully I can include myself in that category)  still operate on a level that best serves themselves. Dogs tent act in a manner that is best for the friendship.
The day I met Falcor my roommate Christy brought him home, unbeknownst to me while I was at work. When I came home for lunch, Christy was out running errands, and Falcor was left to guard the house. He had been there only couple of hours and already took his responsibilities very seriously. Falcor and I spent the next 20 minutes circling the dinner table, him barking and growling at me. Me making a bologana sandwich, trying to stay unscathed so I could return to work. After eating my lunch in the same manner,with table between us, I made a dash for the door. Falcor lunged half way across the room stopping only after I threw the last bite of sandwich in the air in the middle of the room. He snatched it in midair and sat down. He gave me one last bark and smiled at me. Yes he smiled. As if to say "Thanks, but I'm still gonna be watching you".
Over the next few weeks we become closer and closer. He would follow me around. I would take him for walks. He started to sleep in my room instead of the livingroom.
Months later, Lisa and I became room mates. We were not involved at the time. She worked days, I worked nights so we shared a room in shifts. On the first night of this arrangement, as I was leaving for work, I jokingly told Falcor "Watch her". I meant as in "don't let her steal the silverware". Lisa took as "take care of her and protect her". Lisa patted the bed next to her, Falcor hopped up in the bed for the first time ever. Fast foreward a couple of years of him not missing a night in the bed, I could not get him out of it, to the point of him growling at me when I tried to move him so I could get in. It got so bad, I would have to go into the kitchen and crinkle the bread bag to trick him into think that I (and him by proxy) was getting a snack. Then it was a race to get into bed before he did. Defeated he would settle on a spot between Lisa and I.
If you came to my house and you were not one of Falcor's humans, he would bark at you until you were seated. If he did not like you he would continue to bark until I told him to mind his manners.  I realized he was a good judge of character. I learned to trust his instincts and more often than not he was right. One guy he didn't like ended up in jail two weeks later for strong arm robbery. I adopted a policy of "I don't like anyone my dog doesn't like".
He was smart. He was a sheperd. He would roam the house at night making sure his flock was in bed where they belonged. He had an uncanny ability to locate property lines better than a surveyor. He could tell time. Not only did he know when his meal times were, but he knew we had a BBQ every other Friday, at which a hot dog inevitably roll off the grill just when he was handy to help clean it up.

Falcor lived to be 14 when he developed a cyst on his neck that grew so large it ruptured though his skin. He was old and had other health problems. We decided it was in his best interest not operate. We had one last BBQ in his honor at which he had his very own london broil all too himself. I spent all night sitting up with him, giving him bites of his steak. I gave him one last bath. That morning we went to the vet and I sat on the floor with him, stroked his head and told him that he was " a big mean dog" (Which he took great pride being his whole live.) as he drew his last breath.
As I stated earlier this post isn't about BooHoo, but rather to point out the profound influence Falcor had on me. And that knowing him has helped guide me to make the choice that this blog is about.
But I do miss you "Old Man".

Preface

I am Scott. This is my mid life crisis. 
In the upcoming posts I will relay what happened to bring me to this point and discuss what actions I will take. Be forewarned I am a horrible writer. I misspell words. I use poor grammar. And I tend to leave words out when typing. I think that's because I think way faster than I type and I get ahead of myself.
I am a 45 year old man living in Sarasota Fl. I have a wife and 2 wonderful kids (I have 3 children but 1 of them is an real asshole). Haha I've been telling that joke for 10 years and at one time or another all 3 have admitted to being the asshole. I just tell them they're right.
I am running a 7 person 4 generational household. It's me and my wife, Lisa, my 70 year old mother, my 25 year old son, Anthony, my 22 year old daughter Danielle, her boyfriend and baby daddy Chris. And then there's Kaylynn (GoGo) my 19 month granddaughter. My third kid 21 year old Robert lives in Maine.
These are the principle players for now. Others will be added as the story dictates.
I'll get into the story in the next post.