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Soup Crackers … How Close Are You To Being A Walking Wounded?

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Zodiac killer

“Hey!”

A grey, grizzled guy in a Kal Tire baseball cap got shoved backwards into the lineup of folks clad in their worn Salvation Army winter coats in front of the serving window.

I’m a naive kind of guy.

I looked up and directly over the 35’ish year-old woman’s shoulder that I had just handed a wax-paper bag containing an egg salad sandwich on multigrain bread.

At first I thought it was just a friendly greeting… a – “Hi, how are ya!”, until they began angrily shouting at each other.

I zipped out from behind the counter and stepped between the two “combatants”. I wasn’t going to be a hero or anything. “C’mon you guys, this isn’t the place or time.”  Did I look tough and menacing or what? NOT!!

The heated tension diffused quickly – more likely because they were afraid they’d be ejected before filling their empty bellies than because of my calming presence. My magic just ain’t that strong.

This is Lunch Time at my local soup kitchen.

Soup kitchen

11:30 to 12:30…. 365 days a year… Two or 3 soup choices, 4-6 sandwich varieties, sometimes a tossed green or potato salad, a wide choice of “stale-dated” desserts (cookies, pies, cake, muffins, jello), and lots of milk, juice and coffee to wash it all down.

And the price is right.

No charge, no questions asked. You wanna come for lunch, you’re welcome.

I wander in 2 or 3 mornings each month to chop all the vegetables needed for a “mirepoix”, the flavour base for most stews and soups: two parts onions, one part carrots, and one part celery.

And, depending on what’s been donated, sometimes we chop rutabagas or peppers or parsnips or cabbage or mushrooms to toss in the soup pots.

That’s a lot of chopped veggies when making enough soup to feed between 100 and 200, depending on the season, the time of the month, the temperature outdoors.

The angry “shover” in the “schoolyard” altercation – Paul – looks like a roly-poly grownup version of Charlie Brown – round head with a reflective sheen to his baldness, tiny pee-hole-in-the-snow-eyes.

I’ve come to know this fellow Paul from short interactions over the previous few months.

I know he’s a troubled guy, despite a usually calm, almost tender voice. A voice really quite soft for a man that likely approaches 250 or so pounds.

And when he speaks it’s with a Donald Trump-like lips-forced-outwards position as if he’s trying to blow kisses while he’s talking.

trump

And like Trump, he’s a guy with dark demons inside.

Paul asked if he could help at the soup kitchen on Christmas day because he didn’t want to be alone and he doesn’t like anyone in his family.

A couple of months back, Paul buttonholed me while I was “bussing” – clearing and cleaning tables after the soup and sandwich and desserts had been consumed by the daily flock.

He – out of nowhere – asked if I had read a book about, or heard of this guy – a serial killer known as the Zodiac Killer.

Ah…. nope …“. I continued to wipe down the table nonchalantly, fearfully worried he might be making a confession.

He continued on, “The Northern California based Zodiac Killer claims he murdered 37 people in the late 1960’s, although police have only confirmed 7. Two of them survived the attacks.”

With each passing word he spoke, his level of animation and fascination grew, his eyes took on a luster of excitement in the telling of his story, his knowledge, his fascination.

For 10 minutes he had me cornered, while he outlined the details of the nasty man and his nastier deeds, how the police had mismanaged the case and had never found the culprit.

I listened as my mind raced in circles to determine if talking about the serial killer was just an academic fascination, or … was there an internal excitement for him, maybe a sexual arousal, almost a desire to be him?

I’m not a trained therapist or student of the mind; I never know who the killer is ahead of time in TV police dramas – I’m just not that capable of reading people.

I don’t know the inner turmoils or traumas that have shaped and affected Paul’s life.

I know he has struggles, I know he feels inner pain from things that have happened.

I also know that every person, every man, every woman, passing in front of the service window where I hand out a sandwich and a bowl of steaming soup has an inner story, a personal struggle.

The folks I see at the soup kitchen are the “Walking Wounded”, the ones whose conflicts have left them too damaged to fully function in our world in a way we would describe as “normal”.

If we repaired their teeth, gave them a shower and some fresh clothing, most of those I encounter at the soup kitchen – at least those who aren’t meth addicts with pockmarked ravaged faces – outwardly, they could be “Us”, you or me.

In amongst our smiles and joys and cheerfulness, small, or sometimes large grey clouds float in and out of our days.

Humanity gives no person, no matter how rich, no matter how famous, no matter how talented, a free pass on troubles.

Really?

Yup. All of us are “Walking Wounded” …

It comes down to degrees.

It comes down to circumstances, strength, attitude and probably the resilience within our genetics.

I was lucky to be born in the 20th Century. I was lucky to be born in affluent North America. I was lucky to be raised within a loving family.

It’s a sunny day in my mind knowing that I’m the one standing on the serving side of the soup kitchen counter.

And it’s REALLY sunny if, after a morning of peeling, dicing and chopping big bags of carrots and onions and celery, I can walk out the Soupateria door … and … because I’m a numbers guy, still count to 8 … oops, sorry … 10 on my fingers.

finger-slice

 

I know I KNOW!! Seeking Answers? … Life is …

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Questions

Put your hand back down, or do you need to visit the bathroom? Can you wait just a minute? Thanks …

I don’t have the answer to your question.

Actually, I do have the answer, but you won’t want to hear it.

I’ve always found it funny that we expect definitive responses to all of our uncertainties.

Most of us seem to believe that humanity has solved the majority of life’s big hairy questions.

I beg to differ.

We’re not even close.

I know I’ll feebly inhale my last breath with innumerably more questions about everything I’ve seen and done than I’ll have answers. And this is in a GOOGLE world where “apparent” answers are instantly available.

A hundred years from now, hell, maybe in 10 years, I’ll bet dollars-to-donuts that we look back and juice our jeans in laughter at many of the things we swear to be true today.

You want an example? Sure …

We know with confidence now what causes heart attacks and all forms of cancer, right?

Of course NOT!! That was a trick question and you knew it.

The level of knowledge in the medical field is such that we believe our “experts” know the answer to every issue, every disease, every ache and pain-in-the-ass concern that comes running after us or our loved ones. Or they should know.

Doctors, trained to believe in their God-like abilities, often try to explain something, anything! to give their patients an answer. We all want answers. “Just tell me what I have and I can move on…”.

But so many questions ooze as seeping slickness out of the probing grasp of blood tests and MRI machines.

doctors god

Thirty years ago we believed that stomach ulcers were solely related to mental stress. WRONG!

Forty years ago we believed that homosexuality was an individual’s lifestyle choice. WRONG AGAIN!

Fifty minutes ago we believed that global warming brought on by human activity was ludicrous. WRONG! WRONG! WRONG!

But here is the BIG answer, the definitive response to life’s most difficult quandaries…

Are you ready? Brace yourself …

The answer to so many of life’s biggest questions?

… “WE DON’T KNOW”

don't know

WTF?? Beat’s me….

 

We really don’t know…

Life is mysterious. 

  • We don’t know if there’s a God … faith isn’t the same as fact …
  • We don’t know why some of us live to 100 and others sadly succumb before their 10th birthday… fairness has never entered the mathematical equation of life.
  • We don’t know why your friend has dramatic bipolar episodes … the brain is beyond Einstein’s or Elon Musk’s level of understanding …
  • We don’t know why some people with high cholesterol never suffer a heart attack… while others with rock bottom LDL levels who run marathons succumb to a life-ending myocardial infarction.
  • And, especially, we don’t know where you set your car keys down or where your reading glasses have disappeared to.

… there is no end ever to the creative magic we all contain within ourselves…

… there is no end ever to the riches we can create (both literally and metaphorically),

… there is no end ever to the questions we’ll face and not understand.

Life is mysterious and messy.

Because we don’t know all the answers, we can torture ourselves, constantly questioning, constantly worrying. Unanswered questions can be a necrotizing fasciitis, an internal flesh-eating disease in our minds.

For me, it comes down to the old Serenity Prayer, or at least my variation of its wisdom…

Grant me the serenity to acknowledge the things I know, The courage and determination to seek answers to the things I don’t know… And the wisdom to realize that not EVERY question I have WILL have an answer.

Mysteries will always overwhelm us if we allow them to.

Life is mysterious and messy and joyful.

Survival is about not expecting answers to every question. We can drive ourselves crazy if we believe we’ll truly know the who what where why when and how to everything.

Once we accept that mystery and shitty messes are a part of the human condition, the sooner we can return ourselves to a state of contentment and the pursuit of happiness … or … just like the Johnson & Johnson commercials say… whatever your State of Happiness is.

Now, what was I sa … Oh yeah, you had your hand up… Did that answer your question?

Fine… you may go to the bathroom … Dismissed!

bathroom break?

 

 

What’s This Blog About? A Breath in the Life …

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One minute he was sitting in his car … breathing … just like you and me, perhaps laughing, maybe scared, maybe just sitting quietly thinking about things.

Then, the next he was a blood-spattered mess like we might see in a TV cop drama. DEAD.

On one hand, in the pretend world, we watch for “entertainment”, while on the other hand we cry because it’s real life and we don’t like seeing real people killed.

I know I don’t. I feel the pain.

Today I harbour dark thoughts and nauseous feelings about a cat I hit with my car in Quesnel in 1981. Yeah, 1981… 35 years ago and it still bothers me.

bullet thru window

…………

People who don’t know that I have an alter-ego known as The Man on the Fringe and that I write a blog are bit surprised and curious when I mention it.

People don’t see these alter-egos, the “super-hero capes” and masks we don’t prominently wear in day-to-day life.

We all have aspects to our lives that many acquaintances have no insight into.

I write blogs, you raise equestrian horses or Golden Retrievers, the lady you met behind the deli counter supports a Syrian refugee family and is a massage therapist on weekends.

People almost always ask, “What is your blog about?”.

Well, initially they make snide comments like, “Are you sure it’s not The Man With The Fringes, or The Man in the Fridge?” before they ask the more serious question.

And it used to be the answer was simple. The words just flowed like warm blossom honey off my tongue.

  • Men and Women
  • Venus and Mars
  • XX and XY
  • Penis and Vagina
  • The Similarities and Confusions 

4982370-large

Now it’s harder to define. Partly it’s because a year and a half back, the FRINGE Man retired from his lab job.

37 years a lab tech.

For 37 years this white-coat occupation defined my life. I was an almost solitary man in a sea of women …

… a teaspoon of testosterone swirling in a large, steaming cauldron of estrogen.

A blood-testing laboratory served me up my own inner laboratory of gender observation.

It was a fun position and I enjoyed it.

And there were times I admittedly pushed the limits of acceptability … often approaching the edge of gender-inappropriateness before easing back on the throttle to stay just inside the lines of propriety.

Most times I think I succeeded in not jumping over the line, although, I confess a few might disagree. Veni Vidi Aberravi (I came I saw I flubbed).

Anyway… the lights have gone dark on that gender-based observational lab now.

It was just like this every day!!

It was just like this every day!!

So at this point in time I write about those things that interest me – just the stuff I feel inspired or bothered or excited by.

I’ve turned the microscope into my own navel, not the flesh-eating bacteria that once occupied my gaze.

For example, this week I’m bothered and saddened to hear that a 22 year-old local man whom I knew when he was a youngster – a child adopted from Nigeria to a local family here in Canada – was found murdered in a car a few days ago.

He was a cute, smiley, enthusiastic little guy who would come and watch his older brother play soccer alongside my son who was a teammate.

Almost a team mascot, he played the role of parent entertainer during unexciting moments of the match.

In my mind, I ask what events and forks in the road in the last dozen or so years brought this happy-go-lucky kid to become the victim of a “targeted” murder, as the police have described it.

What heat and pressure created an apparent lump of coal instead of the envisaged diamond?

Where had he been, what had he seen, who did he hang out with that brought him to his sad, premature, violent ending?

It reinforces in my mind that all of us change over years.

We encounter people and ideas and activities that shape who we are and where we’re going. It’s like global warming on a personal level. We barely recognize the glacial pace of change but it’s there nonetheless.

I’m a slightly different person today than I was 6 years ago. You are too.

I know the shape and dimension of who I am was altered when we spent 4 months living in Cusco, Peru those 6 years back. Learning Spanish and interacting with beautiful, generous local folks and enthusiastic, young international travellers moulded this lump of clay that I am.

Maybe it was eating guinea pig that brought about change, maybe it was the spiritual magic that emanates from Machu Picchu. I don’t know, it’s that insidious.

Every day we’re sculpted and whittled tiny-bit by tiny-bit, the canvas of our art transformed.

But that’s just an aside.

I’m writing now to explore my inner mind, to develop creative thought processes that influence not just my writing but my music and my personal interactions with the world in general. Each week is just a breath in my life.

I’ve lived most of my breaths by “rational” rules and I’m now at a time where I’m truly enjoying living my days more across the “creative” side of the tracks.

For 37 years it was pretty important to a lot of sick people that I never explored a sense of creative in my laboratory job. Creative thinking in such a scientific and rationality-based career would be dangerous, and … most likely illegal too.

Next week I’ll inhale a deep breath and another 1,000 words will exhale. Hopefully, I’ll unearth something creative buried inside.

I don’t know what that breath will look like, not yet …

… who knows … maybe I’ll write a whole blog post about the word:

SAVVOCITY

… just because it’s a cool word.

machu picchu

 

A Blog About Nothing …

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YADA YADA YADA …

Yoda

YADA … not … YODA …

You can nod off to sleep right now if you wish because I’ll be writing a thousand words or so here but I won’t be telling you anything you need to know that’s important other than to ignore the stuff happening that you think might be important, because it’s really not. Got it?

Let’s move on …

I mentioned last week that I’ve been writing this blog stuff for 3 and a half years now …

I also mentioned that I observe and steal from others … people I encounter day-to-day and people and ideas I see in TV and movies…

And if you’ve noticed, there are a few people out there in the artistic and investing community that I admire.

People like:

  • writer Stephen King who blows me away with his prolific writing and amazingly creative imaginary genius, even if I don’t always enjoy his “horror”-genre subject matter.
  • TV and movie writer Aaron Sorkin who concocts the most remarkable rapid-paced dialogue and clever one-liners to come out of actors’ mouths. The Social Network, Moneyball, Charlie Wilson’s War, Steve Jobs, A Few Good Men, The American President, The West Wing, Sports Night, Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip, The Newsroom. Just listen to the dialogue and Olympic-level verbal gymnastics that occur in these shows – in his writing.
  • Nora Ephron, the late queen of writing the classic romantic-comedy movie: Sleepless in Seattle, You’ve Got Mail, When Harry Met Sally, Silkwood, Michael. Ephron almost defines the Rom-Com scenario of the late 20th Century.
  • Warren Buffett, the Oracle of Omaha. An ordinary yet truly extraordinary investor guy who acts like a country bumpkin but has the calm wisdom of Solomon.

… and finally,

  • Jerry Seinfeld. Everyone knows Jerry. That guy who made TV shows about nothing. ABSOLUTELY NOTHING! And we all loved him for it. When we were in New York City a couple of years back, we visited the famous Tom’s Restaurant coffee shop where many of the group of 4 (Jerry, Elaine, George and Kramer) scenes occurred (in truth, just the exterior of the restaurant was real, the scenes were filmed on a soundstage elsewhere). A few weeks back, we took in a Jerry Seinfeld stand-up comedy “concert” in Vancouver – an hour and 15 minutes of non-stop laughter – yup, he still delivers.

Toms restaurant

So, in perhaps one of the strangest segues ever observed (And BTW? Segue – pronounced “SEGWAY” is one of my favourite words ever), let me take you back to the NOTHING I mentioned earlier…

If you’ve been looking at – or worrying about – all the turmoil and fear in world stock markets this week, try to remember Jerry Seinfeld and that all of this financial worry is just YADA YADA YADA …

A big NOTHING.

Background noise.

Markets go up … markets go down.

The sky isn’t falling and we’re living in a golden age even if we don’t always recognize it that way.

Most of us enjoy lives greatly superior to royal kings and queens of a few centuries back with our:

  • Heated homes and sometimes, indoor heated thrones too.
  • Sumptuous foods from every corner of the world every day.
  • Entertainment of a thousand varieties at the push of a button.
  • A pill to cure or assuage every affliction.
  • Teeth that shine like sparkly diamonds with no decay pain.
  • Our backs bathed in sunny warmth on sandy beaches in February while snowdevils whirl around our frigid northern homes.

I could go on but you get it, right?

I hear you saying I’m an interminable optimist who would have saluted Hitler with a smile. Sure, maybe you’re right.

But one of life’s lessons I think I’ve learned finally is that the things we worry about the most – MOST times never occur.

My mother passed on a minor version of her “worry gene” to me. This used to worry me… but the irony in that is just too silly to contemplate.

Of course, unpleasant things happen to all of us. BUT, to constantly worry about what could happen won’t prevent unpleasant things from happening. Quite the contrary, that’s usually a very efficient way to attract more unpleasant things into our lives.

Yes, unpleasant things happen. But when they happen, we find a way to deal with them, we find a solution and we learn and grow through them. We become bigger, wiser, better…

I used to worry about my financial health every time the stock market took a downdraft.

One Tuesday morning in October 1987 I was sitting in the cafeteria of Penticton Regional Hospital on a coffee break with some of my fellow lab co-workers.

They were talking to me but I didn’t hear a word they were saying.

The New York Stock Exchange had dropped 22.6% a day earlier and my – what I had considered to be substantial – investments took a beautifully elegant swan dive off an Acapulco cliff.

Black-Monday-the-Stock-Market

My bastard inside voices told me the world was ending and life would be terrible and barely livable.

How would I manage? How would I survive the future? My children would be paupers.

In a state of lucky near-panic, I did nothing and rode the waves of worry and weight, while others sold their investments in extreme anxiety.

A couple of years later, it was as if nothing had happened. My stock shares rebounded and grew higher still.

It wasn’t my calm persistence and belief in the positive that carried me through the worry then. It was paralysis.

Since those earlier years, I’ve encountered more heartwretching stock market plummets (2008 was a classic!). I’ve fashioned mistakes of my own making in choosing an investment – where an individual stock price dropped to featherlight nothingness overnight.

The main thing I learned in my own evolution through these and life’s other worries is that the end result is rarely as bad as the thoughts that ran through my head.

Repetition of these distressing life events slowly began to infiltrate and become absorbed.  The lesson I was learning was the belief that I could survive each onslaught and that the final result would be fine. Or close to fine.

The worry – the overwhelming worry? – it wasn’t worth the paper it was written on… OMG, that’s a terrible analogy. Sorry, you can probably think of a better one.

My worry was wasted energy. Looking back it was me running on a treadmill, never getting closer to my desired destination.

If all the physical, health, mental, financial worries that I had imagined countless times had come true, I would have perished years ago, a tangled mess of a train wreck. KA-BANG!!

The answer to life’s worries wasn’t found in the wise words of YODA, the reflections of Buddha or Confucius, the blatherings of Donald Trump.

When it comes to worry – and we all have worries, it’s part of the human condition … the first words I hear now aren’t from green goblins named YODA …

… the words I hear are YADA YADA YADA …

… loosely translated as THIS TOO SHALL PASS.

I’ve written that here before just so you know I’m not delusionally and unknowingly repeating myself.

Some things, like eating a bowl of butterscotch ice cream, bear repeating.

And that is today’s blog post about NOTHING.

YADA YADA YADA …

nothing

 

Another AULD LANG SYNE … 2016 Bring It On!!

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Mt Everest SummerGH Everest

 

Above – the BEST (May) and WORST (December) times to run up Giant’s Head Mountain!

……………………….

I asked a person I’ve come to loath recently if he had any goals for 2016.

He said,

When you set goals you limit yourself.

To goals.”

I used to like that guy.

But his brilliant answer was too blue-chip for me to have even a modicum of respect for him after he outshone my thought process. A-hole!!!! (OK, a good 2016 goal would be to elevate my level of respectfulness, would you agree?)

A goal is supposed to be something to reach towards. A challenge. An achingly satisfying stretch that requires mental or physical effort.

Sometimes my goals even scare me because I fear I won’t make it or I’m not up to it. I hate to disappoint myself almost as much as I hate to disappoint others.

Most of us find it a struggle to reach our goals. I do that too.

But it’s a limit.

Sometimes, I realize, a goal holds me back from what I’m really capable of.

When I reach it, or gaze out towards the time horizon and see it well within my myopic sights, I relax and take my foot off the pedal. I coast until I find myself a whole new goal, which may not come until another New Year begins … or worse still, never.

An example? I took a lengthy breather this year from climbing my local Giant’s Head mountain… so-named for its gigantic facial profile when viewed from the southeast.

IMG_0769

Snowy Giant’s Head in December … so much easier to run up in April …

Last January I set a goal to summit the 300m-in-height-extinct-volcano –  30 times in 2015, the equivalent of scaling Mount Everest.

Back then, it looked to me like a stretch goal, but I really miscalculated the “challenge” of the challenge. A mere 3 climbs each month (a 1 hour per “there and back” running time) was a simple task really.

Coasting along like a tortoise, I grew complacent, growing more and more plump and relaxed in my La-Z-Boy and found myself having to capture the last 10 ascents in the final 31 days of 2015. How do you spell PROCRASTINATION?

I know I procrastinate… BADLY. Trudging through deeper snows and bitter winds at year-end was a nasty reminder that knowing thyself is an important consideration.

When my two fellow challengees (Pam and Jennifer) finished their goal of 30 climbs within 3 months and 10 months respectively, it became readily apparent to this slacker that doing only 2/3’s of the task prior to December was foolhardy.

In 2016, I promise to work more diligently in opposition to procrastination and finish challenging projects and goals in a more timely way.

Briefly, these were some of my 2015 goals and how I fared in capturing some of those ideals:

PHYSICAL

  • 30 times running up Giant’s Head aka the Mount Everest Challenge? Yup, eventually with only 2 days to spare. CHECK!
  • 2 half marathons – I completed the BMO Vancouver Half Marathon in May and began a second half marathon in Kelowna in October (I dropped out at the 10k marker because of a dumb but significant self-inflicted injury 2 weeks prior to the race) … I say good enough. CHECK!

CHARITABLE

  • 10% Charitable Donation boost? Both UNICEF and PLAN International received their 10% boosted payouts this year.  CHECK!
  • SOUP KITCHEN and Salvation Army hamper fill? I continued my twice a month volunteer shifts at the SOUPATERIA in Penticton and then assisted the Salvation Army crew pack and distribute 800+ food hampers before Christmas… CHECK!

WRITING

  • Write 50 blog posts, one per week … I’ve been doing this for 3 1/2 years now and in 2015 I wrote you 51 of these weekly missives. YOU should be the one congratulated for this… THANK YOU for reading my mental droppings and keeping me motivated and inspired … CHECK!
  • Aim for 75 blog views daily on my MAN ON THE FRINGE site. Although I didn’t reach my daily goal of 75 visits per day… I did have a 17% increase to an average of 63 views daily versus 54 per day in 2014 … No CHECK here, but I’m content that I have quality readers over quantity … wouldn’t you agree?

MUSIC

  • 12 String Guitar – this one just taunts and teases me and like a slippery eel, seems to keep eluding me. I play my 6-string guitar more than ever now and have chosen my ideal 12 string purchase (Taylor 356 CE). Dropping a few thousand dollars on a would-love-to-have but don’t-need-to-have item has proven more difficult than I envisioned. Stick with me and we’ll see if 2016 is THE 12-String Guitar Breakout Year! No CHECK.
  • Build a Guitar… I’m still very intrigued by the notion of constructing my own musical instrument. There are a number of different LUTHIER (guitar-building) schools to choose from. I’m gonna keep trying here. No CHECK yet … NOPE.
  • Write more Songs and perform original songs publicly. This one I happily give a HALF-CHECK because even though I haven’t developed the discipline to consistently write songs that I’m happy with, I have begun to get out there and perform. I participated in 3 public sessions (1 funeral and 2 open mic evenings) where I played cover songs as well as a bit of my own music.

 

TRAVEL

  • Visit New-To-Me Central American country. In January we visited and toured along the western coast of Nicaragua in Central America. I learned to roll my own cigar and took a cooking course from an engaging Nicaraguan woman who showed us how to prepare Indio Viejo.

    IMG_6262

    Rolling my own cigar has me prepared for the legalization of marijuana in Canada …

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Street dining in Leon, Nicaragua …

  • American States? My lifetime goal is to visit all 50 U.S. States. I’m stuck at 26 so far and added no new ones to my list in 2016. No CHECK!

FINANCIAL

  • 15% average annual return. My long-term average of +12.2% wasn’t helped along at all this year as the Toronto Stock Exchange dropped 11%, the New York Exchange fell 3.5%. And my 2015 result?? Drumroll please … +8.3%. It’s not a bad return given the state of markets in general, but I’m hopeful that I can boost myself back well into the double digits this coming year. You can do your part to bolster my year-end results by purchasing an iWatch, visiting Disneyland, and buying a John Deere tractor with a loan from the Royal Bank. No CHECK!

FOOD AND EATING 

  • Study Cooking for One Day in any Travel Destination – as I said above, we spent a morning shopping the tiny fresh meat and vegetable stalls of San Juan del Sur in Nicaragua with a local lady, Teodora. We returned to her hostel where she instructed us in Spanish on the preparation of Indio Viejo (Old Indian), a traditional Nicaraguan beef stew. CHECK!
  • Develop a repertoire of Egg Recipes … we have lots of eggs but alas no new recipes (however, there is a recipe silver lining I’ll talk about below) … NOPE … No CHECK!

2015.

Done, deposited and secured in the Book of Life.

As a side note, it’s always fun to consider and embrace the unexpected.

Additional accomplishments? Unexpected Surprises. There were a few …

  • Tough Mudder – my daughter and her partner dragged me through the muck and bone-rattling chill of a Tough Mudder challenge in Whistler, B.C. Mucky, messy, difficult and yet, supremely satisfying.
  • Lake Swim – I actually do this 2.7 k swim across Okanagan Lake once each summer with my friend Jennifer. This year we did it in record time, shaving 9 minutes off our previous best.
  • Surf a Volcano – actually, it was Volcano tobogganing. Sliding speedily down a black-ash covered volcano-side in Nicaragua was exhilarating and total black-faced sooty fun.
  • Learned to Make Animal Balloons – a local artisan sale needed someone to produce balloon animals for the kidlets. I spent a couple of hours on YouTube learning the craft and pumped out blown-up puppies and ladybugs and swords. Maybe I’ll consider Cirque de Soleil next!
  • Bought and Raised Laying Chickens – after finishing coop construction this past spring, we purchased 11, day-old chicks that provide us nearly a carton of beautiful brown eggs every single day. Please drop by for a souffle! Would you, PLEASE!!!!
  • Took a week-long Bartender course in May, and then found myself a-mixin’ and a-pourin’ part time at a local Greek restaurant. My special Christmas Cocktail recipe? The SNOWFLAKE MARTINI… rim a martini glass with shredded coconut. Mix and shake some ice with 2 oz. vanilla vodka, 2 oz. Malibu Rum, 1/2 oz. blue Curacao, 1 tsp coconut cream… strain into the martini glass and a beautiful, but VERY strong ice-blue martini awaits your party sipping.

There you have it.

Was my year “Perfection”?? NOPE. I don’t expect perfection. I expect to try. I expect to feel a stretch. I expect to challenge myself.

Steve Jobs said something about challenging ourselves:
He said that you have to go out and expose yourself to the best of what others have done, and then bring some of it back and add it to what you’re doing.

This is why I look to others for inspiration. Inspiration isn’t naturally occurring.

I look to others. I listen to great harmony music. I read inspiring, positive books and articles.

I steal like crazy any and all things that make my heart beat rapidly.

And I try to stay constantly vigilant for the little – or big – things that happen in my vicinity that I can use in my own life.

My watchword of 2015 was SIMPLIFY.

Simple, right?

SIMPLIFY.

I needed to stop pushing for more and better to the point where I was beating myself up for not accomplishing something, or not doing it as quickly as I thought I should. Take the pressure off and SIMPLIFY (Of course, this excludes the procrastination point I made earlier).

Now, it’s time for looking outwards  and … forward into the future.

My Watchword for 2016?

OPPORTUNITY.

OPPORTUNITY.

OPPORTUNITY.

Rather than list a set of goals for 2016, I’m setting my sights on opportunities.

When something comes floating down the lazy river my way that I haven’t tried?

And it makes my pulse rate rise in anticipation?, excitement?, maybe just a touch of fear?

I want to try to take hold and enjoy it like smooth, creamy, delicious chocolate.

CHOCOLATE?

Yup … Eating chocolate triggers oxytocin in the brain, the same neurochemical triggered when we have sex (sorry, not you and I, but sex in general).

Opportunity. It makes me feel like king of the world. It makes me feel more bonded with the people around me. It makes me soar.

2016… the year of OPPORTUNITY.

I hope you have a wonderful year filled with adventure, love and opportunity.

Thank you for reading my blog and helping me live my life of opportunity, even if I am just a MAN ON THE FRINGE!

opportunity