First, a little context…

1) I’m still pretty new at work.

2) Work is a pretty big place, so I am far from knowing everyone in my building.

3) The Men and Women’s Restrooms are located directly across from each other.

4) In addition to the normal soap, water, and paper towels available in the restrooms, there is also a Purell station located directly between the Men and Women’s Restrooms.

5) I am a bit of a dope.

Okay, finally time for today’s post.

I had just finished washing my hands and I exited the restroom. Figuring that I would be “extra clean” (why not?), I stopped by the Purell station.

Apparently the Purell station was very happy to have me visit, because it provided me with lots of sanitizer. I began slathering it into my hands, but there was a lot of Purell. I continued working on the “Purell Situation” as I turned to head back toward the office.

At that very moment, a co-worker that I did not recognize exited the Women’s Restroom. Then for some inexplicable reason (other than I am a dope), I figured I would try to dissolve the remaining Purell by lightly clapping my hands together. Bad idea. Not the best way to get rid of Purell.

A thin film of Purell burst all over. Sort of a small Purell explosion. Not good.

I looked up and apologized to my unknown co-worker, but really it goes without saying, “I’m new here. I’m also a dope, but at least I’m a clean dope and that’s a start.”

My eyes were growing tired. I saw an opportunity for a welcome rest. Driving back from a brief weekend getaway, a Kwik Trip gas station was just down the road.

Pulling in, I filled up the tank, and stopped inside to pick out a snack. As I perused the candy selection, I was approached by a young employee.

“Excuse me, do you have a brother named Tom?” (He did not say “Tom,” but I cannot remember the name and the story flows better with a random dude name plugged in. Please, excuse this small embellishment.)

Answering “no,” he further explained himself. “Wow! You look just like him, but your voice is quieter.”

The employee further explained, “He was my Economics professor and he had a tempter. He used to say, ‘Mohammed, dammit! You see a pound of butter compares favorably with…” Mohammed waved his hand in the air, unable to find a comparison to butter to help complete his story. Mohammed had a wistful look in his eyes. Seeing my face, the face of his old Econ professor on another person helped take him to another place. For a brief instance, you could see that he was absorbed in memory. Far away, lost in thought.

I smiled, while noting the coincidence. Mohammed returned to his inventory of the shelves. I selected some Pringles and headed on my way.

For an instance, a blip in time, two strangers were brought together. Mohammed to a distant memory. Myself happy to know I have a twin. A twin who happens to berate students for their failure to grasp micro economics. I was happy to be me and I’m sure Mohammed was happy not to be yelled at about butter.

I’m not positive.

It’s just a guess, but…

I’m thinking this child would draw less attention from the wolf, if it was just a tad less neon.

Little known fact – Little Red Riding Hood liked to wear neon pink running shoes.

I usually hate shopping for clothes, but the opportunity required action.

The downtown department store had an End of Season 60% Off Swimsuits Sale and that meant it was time for me to act.

Indeed, 60% is the universal breaking point for action.

Marching in, I found a sales clerk, asked for my approximate size, and marched to the counter with a selection.  Less than 5 minutes.  In and out.

Paying for the swim trunks, I joked that they would only be worn two or three times this summer, then I could drop a few pounds over the winter, and they would fit really good next year.  That’s when he held the swim trunks high.  Stretched the elastic wide and said, “You should be fine.” Ugh.

Correction, I will be fine, when purchasing clothes no longer requires an elastic waistband demo.  That’s when I’ll be fine.  That won’t even require 60% off Dave.

My office cubicle has a standard office look…

but look closer…

closer, look closer…

Yes, now you see it, too.

The question remains, however, what is the purpose of this hole?  Where does it lead?

Since I am too large to crawl in, we must speculate.

Conduit for office type cords?  Too obvious.

Superhighway on-ramp for little critters?  Humph, I keep a pretty clean cube.

That leaves only one answer.  A portal to another dimension.

Sure, now I’m nervous about where I place my toes, but at least I know the truth and the truth is out there.  Now, where did I place that X-File?

Nothing says “It’s your birthday” like a donut the size of a human head!

#SeeingIsBelieving

It was one of those days…

One of those days, when you realize that your phone isn’t working right…

One of those days, when at the end of lunch break you stop into the cell phone store to have it looked at…

One of those days, when you end up sitting there for 90 minutes as they click randomly on the screen…

One of those days, while you sit there for 90 minutes, you are just a few feet away from an ice cream store, but cannot leave, because at any second, they may bring your beloved cell phone “Fred” back to life…

One of those days, when they cannot bring your phone back to life, but you leave with (I kid you not) a phone number to call (well, if I had a phone that worked this would make sense)…

One of those days, when you call the company, they say that they will send you a replacement phone, but if it turns out that the phone died because of something stupid you did, it will cost you $300 (whatever, send me the damn replacement phone already!)…

One of those days, when you return home all late and all sorts of grumpy…

One of those days, when your kids surround you talking all a million miles a minute…

One of those days, when you realize that you did not take the dinner out of the freezer in time and will need to cook hot dogs as a last resort, instead…

One of those days, when you notice that one of your children have placed the following clothes pin on the back of your shirt…

One of those days, when your heart melts…

One of those days, when you see all three of your boys sitting at the counter and you smile…

One of those days, when you realize that you are surrounded by overwhelming love…

One of those days that you would not trade for anything.

Cleaning the dishes, I was listening to the radio.  “Kiss This” by The Struts came on.  A great song to have on while washing dishes.  A great song for dancing with reckless abandon.  I turned it up.  I waited.

A year ago, a minimum of one child would hear the loud music and report to the kitchen.  It was their signal that Dad was dancing.  A free ticket to be tossed around the kitchen on a wild ride of dance mania. Today however, no child answered the call.  I was left alone to dance.

There will still be days when they want to dance.  Today however was a sign.  A sign that those days will grow fewer and farther between.  A reminder that when they do answer the call, I should enjoy it with all of my giddy dancing gusto.

My boys are getting older and I must remember to enjoy each opportunity, before as The Struts would say, “So kiss this one last time, (they’re) gone for good.”

Tonight, my topic is feet.  Feet from the past and feet from the present.  How feet have a power.  The power of youth.  The power to transform.  The power to delight.

You see, in High School, I had a girlfriend that had the cutest little habit.  When driving around, she would lean back in the passenger seat, prop her feet up on the dash, and press her toes against the windshield.   Days later, you would still be able to see her toeprints on the glass.  They were a sign of summer.  A sign of carefree youthful days.  A smudge on the glass that would make me smile.

Last night, the kids had gone to sleep.  The house was quiet and I had adjourned to the kitchen to fix a snack.  As I opened the wine, I looked up and through part of the kitchen window, I could see a small sliver of the porch.  There were my wife’s toes resting on a pillow.  They wiggled in pure relaxation, as she changed the channels looking for some mind-candy on television.  Painted in a playful pattern for summer, my wife’s toes were a sign of happiness.  A reminder of carefree days of youth.  A harbinger of memories.  A pure source of smiles dancing in a gentle summer breeze.