Going around the dinner table, we asked each other our highs and lows of the day.  When we got to our 9-year-old son Sam, he knew that he had a winner for the “lows.”  (Is it really a win to have the lowest low?  Hum.)

“Today at school, I got stuck under my chair!”

Well, son.  That certainly is the lowest of the lows for so many reasons.  Congrats.  (Is winning the contest for having the lowest low really a reason to offer congratulations?  Hum.)

Tonight, I was going to write my usual silliness.  Reflect on joyful triviality.  This evening, however, it seems a bit more appropriate to turn a tad serious.  To pray for a bit of healing.  Remind us of our bright future as a united nation.  So here it goes…

Dear Lord of Us All,

On this night of conclusion, please bring us together.  Remind us of all that unites us and the freedoms we hold so dear.  Give us the ability to better understand each other.  Help us reach out to one another in forgiveness and love.  Heal us and calm our fears.  Enable us to build bridges, soften hard stances, work together for a common good.

We are Americans bound by faith in a greater good.  A greater good that can be accomplished through love and faith.  Clear our eyes to see the bright future that waits for us.  Give us mutual patience and compassion that will make that future possible.

Our best days are on the horizon.  Dear Lord, take our hands and help us be a light to the world.

Amen.

Really?  Really?  All I ask is that the water bottles and cup holders get along.  Is that too much to ask?

It was a flawless Target experience.  Find my item, head to buy it.  In and out, no problem.

Standing in line, I was waiting for the woman in front of me to complete her purchase.  I placed my things on the conveyor belt and watched them head toward the front.  Then a father and his three girls appeared in line behind me.  The children seemed to be Elementary School age, just like two of my boys.  I continued to watch my items ride the conveyor belt toward the front.

Suddenly, the man turned to his kids, pointed in my direction, and in a playful voice said, “Hey girls, I think that’s someone you know.”  I turned toward them somewhat embarrassed.  Should I know them?  Did I know them?  They looked like people I should know, I might know, I guess.

I gave a smile, shyly waved, and said, “Hello.”  Their looks however continued just beyond me, toward someone else, toward the woman in front of me in line, toward someone they actually knew.

Unfortunately, a portal to somewhere anywhere did not open up at that very moment in Target, suck me away, and end my suffering.  Instead, I was left there to wallow in my embarrassment, as the person before me in line and the folks behind me said their hellos.  I was but a human hindrance.  An obstacle to overcome.  Not an acquaintance.  Not a friend.  A stranger.  Barely a human.  I was a creepy confused stranger waving to random people in line at Target.

“Please, give me one extra bag with my purchase.  Preferably a paper one, so that I can wear it over my head.”

About two weeks ago, I bruised my ribs pretty bad (see http://cookiesbydave.com/occupational-hazard/).  Even though it still hurts, apparently there is nothing you can do about it.  Just wait for it to heal.  Until that time, life is no problem, unless of course you want to pick something up, roll over in bed, or tie your shoes.  Other than that type of thing, nothing out of the ordinary.  And yes, I am whining.  And yes, I would like some cheese with my whine.

Speaking of cheese, one problem with the bruised ribs is that my single form of exercise (running) is off the table, but I still enjoy eating cheese at the table.  Yep, the whole incoming/outgoing calories thing is a bit out of whack.  Occasionally, I try to run again, which lasts for about two steps.  Ouch.  Give it time.  The ribs will heel.  Wait.

While I wait, my super fit wife suggested walking as a way to keep my caloric imbalance in check.  I took the advice and have really been trying to walk.  Lunch, after work, whenever.

Last week, there was a beautiful day, so I figured I would fit in my walk over lunch.  I planned on walking over to the grocery store across the street and buy myself an apple for lunch.  And yes, I have become this pitiful.  So, I bought my apple and like a renegade, I decided to cross the busy street well before the crosswalk.  Yes, I know, “Dave, you sure know how to live dangerously.”  Well, not so much, but one thing that made this crossing exciting was that I had forgotten about my inability to run, which comes in handy, especially when you are jaywalking and speeding cars are racing down on your sorry meandering self.

So there I am hobble jaywalking across the street with my apple in hand, when a speeding black Nissan rounded the corner.  Then in an act of self preservation, something wonderful happened.  I was able to run across the street!  Plus, for that glorious 25 feet, I believe the strides were pain free.  Now, all I need to do is arrange for a bear to chase me at the gym and I should have no problem returning to exercise.

Yes, the road to recovery is long, but there’s something about the alternative of instant death, which makes the whole process much more palatable.

A few weeks ago, I figured that I would class up my work cubicle by bringing in a coaster from home.  Yes, from now on, I would place my coffee cup on a classic Kansas Jayhawks coaster.  Classy.  Collegiate.  Civilized.

One problem, the coaster kept sticking to the bottom of my cup.  I would grab my cup of coffee to scurry about the office and find that it had attempted to stowaway.  Always falling off just a few inches from its starting point.

This morning, I saw a sad site.  My beloved new coaster had taken a nose dive into my breakfast yogurt.  Lord, it’s hard to be classy.  Just ask my yogurt.

Word has it that leather adds a healthy dose of protein to your morning yogurt. #CoasterMultitasking

With the change in weather, the skin on my nose has become dry.  Strange, because nose skin tends to be oily and such.  Perhaps, my nose skin is going through an identity crisis.  Who knows?

Well, this morning I decided to resolve the situation with some lotion.  Hydrate the ol’ nose, that’s what I needed to do.  Opening the medicine cabinet, my heart sank.  There was no nose lotion to be found.  Not even anything formulated for a face.  The presence of body lotion was not even there.  All that was left was (gulp) hand lotion.

Sadly, I was desperate and my nose skin cried out for help.  Dabbing on a little hand cream, it seemed to do the job.  I still did not feel too good about the situation, but at least my nose skin was finding some relief.  Also, I have a strange urge to pick up stuff with my schnoz.  Random Medicine Cabinet Lotion:  “Strong enough for your nose, but made for your hands.”

Nothing in sports is as magical as a Game Seven.  Preseason, Regular Season, Playoffs, Championship Series…  it all comes down to one final game.  Two equally matched competitors.  Two warriors who have traveled so far.  All over after one last battle.

In life, the closest I ever came to a Game Seven was a job search.  Many, many years ago, I desperately needed a new job.  Political chaos surrounded me.  The invisible clock of upcoming elections was ticking.  I needed a new job.

As I interviewed all around the metro area, one thing seemed to be a constant, my colleague Jeff.  Turns out that Jeff was also looking for a new job and new challenges.  Jeff and I could not have had different personalities.  He was quiet, I was bombastic.  He was reasoned, I was tangled ball of Christmas tree lights.  He was calming, I was a fireworks show.  Turns out, we were equally matched.  Opposites that seemed to knock each other out in the interview process.  Each and every time.  Sometimes he did better, sometimes the victor was me, but the jobs and the winner never seemed to align.  Then came our moment, our Game Seven.  The job we both wanted.  The job we would both accept.

Turns out, Jeff won by a whisker.  More experience or some such tiebreaker.  He got the job offer.  I was left to keep looking, the loser of Game Seven.

As I looked, Jeff’s old job opened up.  I applied and you know what?  It was the perfect match.  I got Jeff’s old job.  The right job for me.

Life can seem so certain.  You either win or lose.  Game Seven seems like the end, but it turns out that sometimes it is just the beginning.  If you wait long enough, sometimes the loser will end up with a win.

Walking around the neighborhood, I was playing the role of a good parent.  Reminding the kids to stay off the grass, carrying the flashlight, standing by the curb.  Yep, I was doing a good job.

Shortly into our candy gathering adventure, we approached a home and I was asked an unanticipated question.  There standing by the curb was a woman with a large cardboard box.  Setting the box onto the ground she said, “Would you like an antique duck decoy?”  Hum, how many times in my life would I ever be asked this question?  This would probably be it.  The only time.  I had to answer correctly.

As I considered the question, she provided some detail for her box full of antique duck decoys.  Apparently, they were cleaning out some stuff and she had lobbied against the extra work of selling the ducks online.  The easiest approach would be to give away the ducks on Halloween night.

Sure.  Why not?  I would gladly take a duck.  Sure, I know nothing about ducks, wooden ducks, decoys, or hunting, but that was beside the point.  Never look a gift duck in the mouth.

Grabbing the duck, we continued on our way.  Soon, I realized that the duck was dirty.  Soon, I realized that I would be carrying the duck for a long time.  Soon, I realized that I looked ridiculous carrying around a wooden duck.  Soon, I realized that the antique string holding the antique duck would keep breaking (I was carrying the duck by the string) and the duck would keep dropping to the ground.  Soon, I realized that I really did not need a decoy duck.  Soon, I realized that “dropping off” the duck would be littering.  Soon, I realized that I may have made a bad choice.  Well, maybe.

You see, after all of the carrying.  After all of the looking silly.  After all of the regret, I made it home.  Home with my new duck and you know what?  In the daylight of November 1, the duck doesn’t look half bad.  The duck looks pretty cool.  The duck looks like it was worth it.

Sometimes in life we are given a once-in-a-lifetime choice.  Sometimes, we are filled with regret.  Sometimes, our hands end up dirty and the journey is much longer than we anticipate, but you know what?  Sometimes, looking back it all ends up just fine and the adventure sort of makes it all worth while.  Sometimes, especially when a free duck is involved.

Hey, who owns that handsome fake duck?  Oh, that would be me!

Sadly, the store was all out of “Sexy Husband” costumes.

Sigh, I guess I’ll just have to dress as “Loving, Stable, and Adorably Just-a-Tad Plump Dad,” again.