Reflections of a Freaking Genius

Last week I started cleaning up my Facebook page.   No, it wasn’t one of those, "if I haven't talked to you in the last few months on here I'm deleting you from my 'friend list'" things.   It's not as if Facebook is the be all/end all criteria of friendship.   Some of the people on my list I've known since kindergarten.   Some I've never met.   Some I haven't seen since high school graduation or before, and   there are those on my list whose path I may never cross.   That's ok.   It's probably called a 'friends' list because 'some people I love, some people I tolerate, some people I've never met, and some people I've unfollowed because they always post stupid crap' list takes too much space. I've been spending some time 'unfollowing' a butt-ton of political pages I was following on my personal Facebook page.   Yes, I'll still be sharing my "Stitt for Governor" material because I lo

For quite a few years now, our company has been sending the sales personnel who perform well on a well deserved trip to some typically exotic location somewhere in North America.  The company pays all expenses, showing great appreciation for the hard work and dedication of these professionals.  After all, the company's income is dependent upon their successes in the field. Not too long after I started with this relatively young company, one of my coworkers and I (troublemakers that we are) had some thoughts about that coveted trip.  While we acknowledged that the sales staff deserved to be rewarded for their hard work beyond their fairly healthy commissions, but we recognized that without the dedicated and hard working support staff doing what we do, those deals would never be closed.  We knew the hours and commitment we put in to help them be successful, only to see their celebrations on their social media posts from some luxury resort in Mexico.  Why not have a drawing or some

You know your relationship with your spouse has reached a whole new level when the kids are gone for a few days, and the first thing you do to kick up your heels and have some fun is...go to the eye doctor together. I've seen a lot of books about marriage (some of which were actually helpful), and some of those books talk about doing things together to keep the flame going, to keep love alive, or to keep things fresh...I'm not 100% sure, but I'm relatively certain none of them had in their list of date ideas: "Get your eyes checked together". That date idea carries with it some inherent risk.  Maybe her lack of good eyesight is one of the reasons she's hanging with me...she just hasn't had a good look at me yet!  Well, risk notwithstanding, after we met some old friends for lunch and went to a really exciting birthday party for a 6 year old, we went to the eye docs office. My wife had been to this office before, so I was handed the clipboard with 2 hou

It used to be so easy.  I think I said last week, and some of you who follow the blog can testify, that when I was a kid I used to look like a severely malnourished kid with twigs for arms and legs and most of my ribs could be counted if my shirt was off.  I was FAR from starvation, though.  Mom and Dad used to call me the 'garbage disposal'.  Yep, like the one in your sink.  You can pretty much shove anything down the gullet of your garbage disposal that isn't that random spoon that gets away and it will be gone in a matter of seconds.  That was me.  There were seldom leftovers that would make it to the fridge to be devoured at a later time.  If there was anything left after everyone else pushed back from the table, it was MINE!  It's a wonder there was anything left after the mealtime mayhem subsided.  Dad had been a Marine in his early days after high school; a drill instructor to be exact.  Then he had spent years as a captain on the fire department. Neither of th

Reflections of a Freaking Genius: Heigh Ho...Off To Freakin (?) Work We Go : Someone said once that 'work' is the most vile four letter word out there.  Mom and Dad always told us that we shouldn't use fou...

Someone said once that 'work' is the most vile four letter word out there.  Mom and Dad always told us that we shouldn't use four letter words.  I remember the feelings that the word evoked in me as a kid when I heard Dad say, "Let's get to work!".  The negative vibe shot through me from head to toe like wasp venom after a sting, instantly sending my sensibilities into shock.  It wasn't the same feeling as I had when I heard other four letter words like "play" or "cake".  See?  Not all four letter words are bad!  Mom and Dad were quick to teach my backside which four letter words were appropriate and which were not as I grew up.  Somehow they hoped the vocabulary lesson would make the journey from my butt to my mouth.  There must have been road construction and a few detours, because I think that lesson is still wondering around in me somewhere, hopelessly freakin lost...somewhere behind that &%$*(# dinkin around in the left lane on

I'm sure there are blogging rules out there somewhere saying you should be consistent.  It seems as if I've been consistent....ly....bad...ok, horrible, at staying in front of my aging laptop on a regular basis typing stuff I think is hilarious or deep or inspirational to the masses.  I'm grateful for all the millions of followers who have stuck with me in spite of long blogular voids.  Ok...thousands of followers.  Ok, ok...141.  But 141 of the best, most faithful wonderful people I've ever paid to hit the 'like' button on the Facebook page to make it look like there are a few that enjoy a goofy read now and again. Seriously, though, life has been pretty crazy.  Getting married, getting kids into school and adjusted to a new home, followed all of the other adjustments that go along with all that...it's been nuts.  Things are leveling out so it should give me the opportunity to hit the keyboard a little more often.  I've missed it.  I've always sai