Pete and I had company for a couple of nights and I’m buzzzausted. I can barely muster a passable Bronx cheer!
I may not look busy, but I’m actually brining a turkey.
A zillion years ago, when I converted to Judaism in my twenties, the rabbi explained that Jews do not believe in concrete forms of an afterlife because nobody can testify to the truth of the matter. There’s no Heaven or Hell as Christians describe it because Morty who died last year has not reappeared before the congregation with real estate listings. So Jews says that good people walk with G-d. As for Hell, it’s called Gehenom, because some scholar asked some guy what was the worst place he could imagine and that guy said, “It’s gotta be Gehenna, because those people burn their children.” I don’t remember a whole lot from this part of my life, but that explanation penetrated the fog, since we now live in Hell.
For a couple of days last week, my friends yapped about this article at Cracked.com: Six Harsh Truths That Will Make You A Better Person. It is written in an antagonistic manner intended to incite fatass whiners to get off their asses and fatten up their skill set and every person in comments who raves about the message has already gotten it. I doubt the intended recipients of that message appreciate it, but I appreciated this:
Saying that you’re a nice guy is like a restaurant whose only selling point is that the food doesn’t make you sick. You’re like a new movie whose title is This Movie Is in English, and its tagline is “The actors are clearly visible.”
I was just about to quit reading when that line caused me to give the article, which had twice cited an odious scene from Glengarry Glen Ross I have no interest in reliving, a second chance. The point eventually becomes: learn things, practice new skills, change to be what you want to be and do what you want to do, but it’s aimed at people who are doing nothing but aging. Yikes.
This method of assessing a situation works for me:
I ask myself this question almost every day: what are my assets? What am I? What do I have? What can I do? What do I want? Sometimes, I don’t have answers. If I am very lucky, I have new and surprising answers. Those are the best days.
I’ve figured out a few things about these winter projects.
1. Start in the spring.
2. It seems stupid, but knit when it’s 90 degrees on the porch.
3. Don’t stop.
Miss Sasha has been making hats on a knitting loom. I have been hmm-hmm-hmm-ing about whether or not I could turn out hats this way, but I’d have to have a place to send them. It must be noted that I am in New Jersey and even toddlers get mouthy when you stroke their hair.
I guess we were all young then.