Not to Be Outdone

Well, as I find blogs from friends and family, I realize how much I've been missing! It's like talking, but nobody interrupts me. How cool is that?

Now I will admit to being a bit of an anomaly. A white male who enjoys communicating. In the proper circles, of course. Someone asked me if I enjoyed the Super Bowl. Admittedly, it was never on the TV at our house. (Now college would be a different story, but NFL just doesn't do anything for me.)

So I write. And I'm not hung up on sports 24-7. But I do carry a man card. I appreciate justice, but don't necessarily like to fight. More like a Jean Luc Picard without the starship and the torpedoes. Don't get me started ... I can guarantee you'll hear more about Star Trek. Who does that jazz up for future reading? Here's a shout-out to all my Trekker peeps! Be Heard!

Anyhoo ... I'd rather negotiate between conflict than be one of the sides. Annie, I guess that rules me out as Peter Pan. While he was good and all that, he didn't flinch at a battle. Besides, I don't look as snappy in green tights. Trust me. But the hat is dapper.

I digress. A writer. Low sports. A lover, not a fighter? And I get really gigged over finding a good deal. ESPECIALLY travel. Always did, even as a kid. I was the one to research hotels (the pool had to kick) and make reservations for our vacations. "Travel agent" was one of many jobs that I planned. Along with architect, civil engineer, pharmacist, weather personality, and (pity the thought) a yearbook representative. You know, like for Jostens.

Wait ... did someone just whisper "lame" under their breath? Mmm-hmm. Don't think I don't hear you.

I even love to just walk in the mall. No real goal, just ambling. Odd, yes. Relaxing, yes. And I love walking hand-in-hand with Veda. But she's a goal shopper. Get in ... get what you need ... get out. We truly are sometimes the perfect storm of a role reversal. God is good ... He knew what He was doing when He put us together. But doesn't He always know?

For those of you who have no clue ... here's the family unit on the left. Well, at least the fam as I knew it back in 1976. Looks like we all had the same hair stylist. And yes, I was a blonde. What of it?

I'm surprised our collars did not just open up and swallow our heads whole. Or start flapping and take flight. If my collar didn't, my ears were prepared as backup in case I needed to be airborne.

I took pride in pulling teeth. In fact, I determined it was quite the business, and I think I pulled three over the course of two weeks.

Here's the current Bush family, where I'm the head. Veda's the neck. Yes, yes, yes ... turns the head. Leah is the heart (shares space with God.) Amy is the memory ... like an elephant. And Chaz is both arms and legs ... flailing them about whenever he can. Boy, will he be a future blog topic. And, of course, a haiku for you!

A man's family
Reflects his innermost traits
I'm a complex guy.