Preparing for a meeting, only one thought crossed my mind, “I’m pretty confident about the game plan.” Then doubt.  Then the realization that I was probably wrong.

My mind then drifted to the words of Luke Skywalker in The Last Jedi, “This is not going to go the way you think.”

Luke was right.  The only thing that is certain is uncertainty.

That and I certainly need more sleep.

‘Tis the season for waiting.  Waiting for Christmas.  Waiting for the birth of a Savior.

Tonight, however, I just found myself waiting in my car.  In a High School parking lot, waiting for my son to exit the building.

As I waited, I realized I was tense.  Impatient.  Anxious about the normal stresses of life.  Bills.  Work.  Errands.  Life.

That’s when I noticed something else.  Something unexpected.  Peace.  I was sitting alone.  A solitary soul surrounded by the darkness of an early Winter evening.  Surrounded by peace.

Soft warm air flowed from the car vents.  The Rolling Stones sang a familiar song on the radio.  I was okay waiting for my son’s arrival.  I was at peace.  I was experiencing an Advent moment, being at peace with waiting.

While watching football games on TV, my teenager Jacob and I tend to be a little disruptive.  We enjoy the games, but we’re a tad squirrelly.  We have trouble sitting still.  Have trouble not talking.  Have trouble speaking in quiet tones.  Have trouble not changing channels, during commercials.  Yes, we’re trouble.

As a result, we are frequently (always) asked to leave the room.  Banished.  Football fans in exile.

Sunday evening, I knew that I would be unable to behave myself, therefore I banished myself in advance.  Jacob and I would watch the game from the tiny TV in the kitchen.

At kickoff, I began baking and the baking didn’t stop.  I found myself in my element.  Food surrounded me.  Cold beer was at arm’s length in the fridge.  We could change the channels, as we pleased, and talk as loud as we wanted.  And I baked.  Baked.  Baked.  And baked some more.

By the time the game had finished, my results were prolific.  A pan of butterscotch bars, an apple pie, a pumpkin pie, and three chocolate chip pies were before me.  The kitchen had become a “Land of Misfit Football Fans” and the results were the stuff of legend.  Never had not fitting in felt so right or smelled so good.

All Summer long.  Well into Fall.  Everytime I started the lawnmower.  I feared it would be its last hurrah.  It was ill.  Each mow was a blessing.

Amazingly, it kept going.  Mow, after mow.  It always started.  Eventually.  Pull, after agonizing pull.  It always started.  Eventually.

Today, was the mower’s last run of the season.  It only needed to make it through one more day, then a long Winter’s rest.

I pulled.  Nothing.  I pulled again.  Nothing.  Again.  And again.  And again.  Forty times or so.  I was not going to give up.  We were so close to the finish line.

Then, a faint chug.  Followed by another slightly stronger chug.  Then, twenty or so more pulls and we were in action.

Mowing like the good ol’ days.  Soon, a child had a question.  We were so close to the finish, but I needed to help my boy.  I dared not kill the engine.  It might never return.  Time for a “Subtle Savage” solution.

I pulled off my belt.  Fastened it tight around the controls.  Luckily, my pants held tight, as well.  I helped my boy.  The mower didn’t know better.  My pants remained high.  The mower finished its run.  The Winterization was complete.

Using one’s belt to save the day.  That’s savage.  Subtle savage.

I have a Holiday Time of Year confession.  I really like wrapping gifts, but I’m afraid that it has less to do with the whole giving thing than that sense of accomplishment and completion that I feel, when staring at a pile of neatly wrapped bundles of Holiday cheer.

There I feel better that I got that off my chest.  Okay, one other thing to confess.  In the previous paragraph I took great pleasure in writing a really long run-on sentence.  At one point, I was even intentionally trying to make it longer.  So there you have it, I give gifts in part because of the selfish pleasure of a job well done and I write run-on sentences just because I can and it makes me feel sort of naughty.  Oh boy, that is gonna be one large lump of wrapped literary coal in this year’s stocking.

When I approached my adorable wife about purchasing an illuminated Christmas llama for our front yard, her poker face was commendable.

If I didn’t know better, I would’ve suspected that her firm “no” was laced with a bit of “you must be out of your mind.”

As I persisted and the constant “no” for an answer can mean only one thing.  On Christmas morning, I will find a stunningly beautiful llama keeping watch by our front door.

Oh, I’m such a lucky boy (and a tad delusional, as well).

How could anyone say “no” to something so perfectly odd? 

Today, I am thankful for my dog…

…who apparently has a demon that lurks deep within his soul, which causes him to eat an entire pumpkin pie when no one is looking.

The look of a dog, who is sleeping off a pumpkin pie bender.

This morning, as I sleepily stumbled into the shower, I was greeted by a plant.

“Oh, dear!  So sorry to bother you.”

Then I noticed a second plant.

“Oh, dear!  So sorry to bother you both.”

Thoroughly embarrassed, I scurried away.

Would have been nice to know what a shower in a rain forest was like, although I’m certain that I made the right choice.  Those plants would have been none too pleased.

Pinch hitting for school conferences, I sent a text to my wife to confirm the time.  Here’s her reply…

What me?  Talk too much?  Sure, I do love to chatter, but it’s not like I’m harming anyone.

Flash forward, I’m sitting with the teacher and reviewing my Fourth Grade son Ben’s self-assessment.  Here’s how he answered the question of what he needs to work on…

“Not talk as much.”

Hmmm, it appears as if young Ben is learning from his dad and I in turn need to learn from Ben.

Son, tell me more.  I’m listening.

This year in Minnesota, Autumn lasted a total of about ten days.  Hot Summer, ten days of leaves falling, and then BAM!  Winter!  Cold, cold Winter.

Well, I missed that ten day window for raking leaves, so Sunday afternoon,  I tackled the lawn and paid the price.

Taking a few swipes with the rake, I soon realized that the leaves were frozen to the ground.  An icy mixture of regret and sadness.  I took the rake again in my hands and struggled free a few bags worth of leaves.  Then, SNAP!  The rake was no more.  Snap a rake in two and how many rakes do you have?  Wait, that question only applies toward pinching worms.  Any who, I struggled on.

Second rake in hand, I took several more strokes at the frozen tundra and SNAP!  Right in two, again.  Now, I began to wonder if the sub-zero temps had butchered the rakes or if it was my own body bursting forth with masculinity.  My body’s attempt to survive the upcoming six months of Winter.

Grabbing the third (and last remaining rake, the most expensive and well made of the bunch), I continued my struggle against the leaves before the full onslaught of Winter.  A final assault on the remains of Fall, while a much more sinister opponent waits.

Somehow the final rake survived until sunset, which seemed to take place at 3:35 PM.  2/3rd of the backyard was clean.  I may not have won the battle, but I slept well knowing that all rakes will from now on will fear me, Mister Late-to-the-Raking-Party.