Even the snowmen are sick of Winter…

Today at work, it was observed that as men age, they are in danger of becoming “worldly, jaded, and crabby.” Well, I’m happy to report that I have instead become “oblivious, flip, and sleepy.”

Given the choices, I am happy with the later.  Those are the only choices, right?

Don’t you hate it when life gets in the way of cookie baking?  Paulsen, time to review your priorities.  Geez.

Nothing makes you drive extra careful like a Kiwano in your car’s cupholder.

That airbag won’t stand a chance.

It was a string of a few really nice days. Enough to make me think about warmer weather. All I really needed was my favorite red shirt. Rummaging through my dresser drawers, I could not find my favorite red shirt. Looking on my closet shelves, still no shirt. I figured my shirt had been tossed out during our Autumn move. A victim of some long forgotten hole in the fabric. I moved on.

Then earlier today, I was digging through my sock drawer (presumably searching for some sock or another) and there on the bottom were three folded shirts. All red. All waiting for me. Apparently at some time, I had thought placing all of my red shirts together on the bottom of the sock drawer was a good idea. No matter, all was good now. My favorite red shirt had come home. Welcome Spring, now I’m ready.

Me in my favorite red shirt, during happy Summer times. Well, not so much happy, but rather very risky times. I must have been very, very thirsty to take such a risk. If my shirt ever did get a hole, it probably happened right then and there.

One of the saddest feelings at work is when you suspect that you might have post-lunchtime bad breath.  I did not have any confirmation.  No one was shrinking from me in disgust.  I could not smell my own breath.  I just suspected that lunch had bestowed upon me something of a yucky odor cloak.

That’s why I bought myself some Tic Tacs.  Yummy Wintergreen Tic Tacs.  My favorite flavor, all within a little breath freshening capsule of delight.

I tapped a few onto my desk.  Shoveled a few into my mouth.  Crunched a few to great satisfaction.  I felt breath freshening taking place.  Success.

I tapped a few more onto my desk.  Shoved a few more toward my hand and missed one.  What?  Yep.  Tic Tac fail.  I looked around on the floor of my cubicle and my wonderful little green caplet of breath saving power was missing.  Tic Tac sadness.

The only possible explanation was that it had rolled under the cubicle wall and was visiting my cubicle neighbor.  Listening to him on the phone, I waited for him to hang up, prior to launching my investigation.  Hearing the “click” of the phone, I wandered over.  With all the confidence of my Tic Tac infused fresh breath, I inquired about my little green runaway.  Sure enough, resting under my neighbor’s desk was my little green breath saver.  Yep, I was a clumsy cubicle neighbor, but I sure had Wintergreen fresh breath.  Winning, post-lunch style.

Tic Tacs ready for action in a simulated workplace environment.

Answering the age old question, “What happens to leprechauns the day after St. Patrick’s Day?”

They become disco vampires.  Duh.

Washing the dishes, I looked out the kitchen window into the backyard.  That’s when I saw my boys playing.  Norman Rockwell could not have painted more of an American scene.

Flashing a wide and satisfied smile, I looked closer.  What?  What are they doing?  What are they doing to each other?  Then I asked the obvious, “Are they hitting each other with sticks?”  Letting out a sigh of resignation, my beautiful wife remarked, “Yes, they do that.”

Turns out, Norman Rockwell made the right choice passing on that painting.

I love that new hat feeling.

Only one thing could make it better, when that new hat belongs to your son’s new baseball team.  New hat, plus proud dad. Life doesn’t get much better than that.

After I scheduled a meeting in downtown Saint Paul for the morning of March 17, I gave it little thought.  Soon after everything was finalized, I received an email that informed me that oh by the way, the St. Patrick’s Day Parade goes through Saint Paul at noon on the big green day.  Suddenly, I had visions of myself in some strange Ferris Bueller’s Day Off sequel.  “Shake it up, baby, now.  Twist and shout.”

What to do?  What to do?  Well first, check the parade route.  This simple quest for information resulted in (drum roll, please) the “Questionable Workplace Google Search of the Day.”  Such a cool segment should really have a theme song.  Again, insert “Shake it up, baby, now.  Twist and shout.”  Who knew that the parade route link would first splash large photos of people in silly green hats across my screen?  Really, who knew?