Tonight at the dinner table, I had a tidbit of knowledge to share.  Something that I was sure would come in handy.  A gift to my kids.

Turning to my three boys, I proudly detailed a story that I had heard on the radio.  You see, scientists studied how men smell after eating certain meals.  Apparently (mind you, this is science, so don’t scoff), men who eat a diet heavy in leafy green vegetables smell better to women than men who carbo load (also, meat did not make a difference in the study, so cows, you are sorta safe).  My boys looked back at me with blank stares.  Humph.  I just gave you a gift.  A potential tie-breaker in winning your perfect mate and you look at me like an old fool?  Double humph.

Fine, scoff away young lads.  Someday, when you are alone eating a big bowl of pasta, you’ll wish you had listened to dad and had chosen the big salad instead.  Boys, I may not know much, but I do know that this advice is al dente, you can kale on it.

Tonight, may all of your patience will be rewarded, like a momentarily well behaved dog finally receiving his evening walk.

Not one to be troubled by deep thoughts, I usually walk through life blissfully worry free.  Not that I don’t care, I do.  It’s just that it kind of slides off my consciousness.  Like water off a smiling duck’s back.

Today, however, I was strolling into Target.  I had to buy dog food and another item of randomness.  Nothing major, simple life stuff for me, the smiling duck.  That’s when it hit me.  No trigger, just a smack in the face.  This comfort, this peace of mind could all vanish in an instance for any number of reasons.  Then came a mix of fear (a little bit), plus gratitude (beyond measure).

I am one extremely blessed dude.  A beautiful family, stable life, health, and comforts exceeding the imaginations of so many.

Yes, I remain a smiling duck and most everything will still roll off my back, but today I say “Thank you, Lord,” because I am blessed and of that single fact, I am well aware.

So today, I promised myself that I would not be dwelling on my weight loss in yet another blog post.  Too much coverage.  Just too much.

So I am not going to talk about today’s trip to the gym, I’m not gonna do it.  I’m not gonna go there, but I did have kind of a happy side note to make.  A tiny reference that probably qualifies as a weight/gym/progress reference, but certainly forgivable.

So this post is really a postscript and sort of a final chapter on a swimsuit.  A swimsuit that my dear wife had bought for me two years ago (here’s the link to the swimsuit post from long ago).  A swimsuit that she believed I would be able to fit into soon.  Well, that was (I repeat) two years ago, but  today I did it!  I finally did it!  That stinking swimsuit finally fit on me.  Plus, it looked good.  Hooray, me!

There, just a tiny tale of dieting success.  Forgive me, please, because I must now leave and pose for the Middle Aged Men of Minnesota swimsuit calendar.  Success comes with obligations, you know.

Picking up my teenager Jacob from baseball practice, he immediately changed the radio station.

His selection was fine, I guess.  I guess if I was a teenager or knew the song or anything like that.

As a result, I embraced the only defense I know “Being Dad Proud.”  That’s right, I announced with pride, “Hey, look at this new dance.”  As I held my hand horizontal over the dashboard, I moved my hand in a circular motion, then reversed.  “I call it, ‘Cleaning the Counter.'”

Seeing my son stifle a laugh, I knew I had won.  I had won by “Being Dad Proud.”

VIOLATIONS

1. Eating pretzels in bed – future rodent possibility, annoying behavior
2. Bicycle blocking garage door – high possibility of bike damage, annoying on two wheels
3. Wrestling in close proximity of “nice couch” – must preserve the functionality all of the furniture, annoying because of so many previous warnings
4. Multiple lights left on in unoccupied rooms – blindingly careless behavior, annoying voltage
5. Tablets on maximum volume – hearing loss, loudly annoying

CAUSE

They are boys and they frequently turn off their brains.  When this occurs violations are common, annoyingly so.

REMEDY

Wait about twenty years and it will be okay, but annoying until then.

This morning’s trip to the scale officially confirmed what I have long suspected, I am a “Yo-Yo Dieter.”

I must say, however, it feels mighty good to be back at the Bottom Yo.

One sure sign that you’re not getting enough sleep.  You walk into the kitchen to get a glass of water to fill the dog dish.  You return with a pen and no memory of why you first entered the kitchen.

Maybe I got the pen to write a note reminding myself to fill the dog dish with water.  #BenefitOfTheDoubt

Not to brag, but who’s the guy who just completed a trip to the grocery store and only bought items on the list?

Oh wait, that’s me (first time ever showing grocery store restraint).

What did you say?  Who’s the guy who remembered to bring a cloth bag for the groceries?

Oh wait, that’s me, again (first time in a long time that I actually remembered a bag).

Whew!  Being a responsible adult takes a lot of energy.  What?!?  Who’s the guy who needs to go to bed early, because he needs to wake up well before dawn and go to the gym, when it opens?

Responsible adult hat trick!  Way to go, me!

[By the way, I apologize in advance, if my actions cause the Earth to fall off its axis and go tumbling into the sun.  Really, I only had good and (gasp!) responsible adult like intentions at heart.]

Before heading out to complete our Back-to-School shopping, my wife asked if I would inventory our current school supplies.  Several hours later, I reviewed my findings.

Dear goodness, we appeared to have some of everything, but yet almost nothing exactly as it appeared on the list.

Then I pondered my most perplexing find, the Half-a-Scissors.  Yes, deep within an old backpack was Half-a-Scissors or as it is better known “A Dagger!”

Apparently, the halls of elementary schools are a dangerous place.  Some sort of lawless jungle, where only those with sharpened kid scissors survive.

Suddenly, Back-to-School shopping took a back seat to Insurance Policy review.  Forget the backpack, summon the Aflac.