Before My Last Breath

Look (for those of you who hold me to every day writing). It was a holiday weekend and I stayed far away from my office and hence my computer. Then I got sick from either: A) some nasty bout of allergies (which up until now I have successfully avoided in my life) B) some heinous on again off again lime-green-snot cold. C) a weird flu which I will call the rodent flu (why further malign pigs at this point?) where my body temp was actually 3 degrees lower than it should have been. I call it the rodent flu because you feel like a rat hell bent on just surviving by any means necessary. (Ed. Note: NOT Hanta Virus) D) All of the freaking above. This past SaturdayI rode the mountain bike for 3 hours. Next day spent in bed. Had a great Memorial day with the family and a loooong ride on Speedy, next day in the office my head starting drooping at 7am and by 4pm I was asleep and I must have slept about 22 hours. Whatever, all life keeps going anyway. Nobody really cares ...

I had a dream the other night. In the dream I was with some friends and someone asked me about my mom and I said she was no longer with us (don’t panic anyone – she is healthy as a horse and due to be around for at least another 80 years…). More than anything else though was the feeling of that emptiness knowing I could never just stop by her house and say “hey mom”, or ask her to come over and hang out with her grandson Bodhi and then have dinner with us. The enormity and finality of her being gone hit me like a sucker punch in that dream. I was shaken. And what I woke up to was how each moment I spend with her, each interaction is precious. Really isn’t it that way with everyone? When was the last time you looked through the eyes of total adoration and appreciation for ALL the people in your life? The ones that stress you out, the ones that soothe you. Your beloved, your co-worker, your parents and siblings. The total stranger who just cut you off in traffic. And what about us. I mea...

I promise to write each and every day. I promise to write each and every day. I promise to write each and every day. I promise to write each and every day. I promise to write each and every day. I promise to write each and every day. Etc. Etc. Etc. times 100. (that's for you Syl!) Am I a liar or what? How can I possibly write each and every day? Is it possible? I have no idea. But let’s find out. It has been over a month since my last blog and I think I must have lost the handful of faithful readers by now. Or maybe I lost them long ago anyway. But listen I really am writing for myself anyhow. I love the clicking plasticky sound of my keyboard as I hunt and peck my way through this form of expression. It is music to my ears… Symbols take shape into words and those words have meaning (we can only hope) and maybe even create a feeling inside as they are read. This is my intent and my way of saying something meaningful out of all the words that escape my mouth and have littl...