If I had a hammer.....

Life brings, or at least it seems to me, round pegs, square holes.

You know the kids wooden hammering toy.  Goldilocks-like.  "Too big", "too small", "too hot", "too cold."  JUST RIGHT.  Where does one fit in?

I ain't sure I've ever found just right.

We hear "dare to be different" all the time.  Yet we seemingly thirst for fitting in.

I enjoy Classic cars.  I sometimes put an eye on Nascar.  I know "lefty loosy righty tighty" but I have no desire to be a mechanic, or a gearhead, or, to follow the yellow brick road to the Indy 500.

I like golf, I do, but it doesn't consume me.  I frankly enjoy swinging by the Corner Bar, but if I didn't go for three months, I'd be ok.

I really enjoy the newspaper, but if I never ever pickup a paperback book I'd be fine and dandy.  It just ain't for me.  Read away if you like, I guess I'm weird.  My obsession with the newspaper must be about 80% because if I go on vacation I've got the option to "hold and deliver all" newspapers missed, or, "simply begin again" on such and sucha date.  I do the latter.

Virtually every school, community center, airport, yada, have "Lost and Found"s.  They ain't never empty.  So, some things, like me I guess, stay lost forever.

Witness the fact I could never be a Jehovah Witness.  All consuming ain't me.

Would I then be lost?  Or, am I found?

I'm ok if I never place my butt on a Harley.  Many would go ape if that feeling ever existed within for them.

Can I still be unique if I never get a tattoo?  I've long joked about getting a tattoo. "down there".. in teenie tiny letters that spell "Morticians suck".  You know, you gotta go down makin' 'em laugh.

But, am I weird because I enjoy laughter too much?  I can be serious, but I know folks who would look at me and scoff because I rejoice in frivolity mebbe a tad too much.

It's said there is no "I" in team, but can one occupy the bench, mebbe play centerfield if he/she has a "mind of their own?"

I don't fish.  I don't eat fish.  WHAT?  Nope, not even crustaceans.  I will one day be sieved into my urn, and I'll be fine with the fact there ain't a speck of salmon within.

There are folks that fit into amusement parks.  They literally travel the world to experience the newest, fastest, biggest turned rollercoasters of the land  Nomme.  All I see is my taught neck wondering exactly which steel girder will ultimately take me down.  Man at work - there is no such thing as perfection - as in, what if the guy folding the parachute into place is hungover?  Got bronchitis?  Going thru relationship strife?  What if Rosie or Ronnie the riveter, forgets to tighten a critical bolt on the Zambezi Zinger?  Drop me off here Uber.

Yes, I realize this blog is weird, nonsensical, but mebbe that's my fit.  My porridge.  It's my bed, but I rarely make it.

I truly admire passion.  Mind outta gutter, yes, I enjoy that passion, but I'm ok with life if I don't fit sometimes, don't have the equal passion another has about important things in their lives.  I can name maybe two Civil War battles, but some make a life of it.  All good, just not for me.

Round peg, square hole.

Older I get, less I give a rats.

Awhile back /i was sitting in new hire orientation at Home Depot.  Me and a little friendly gal all of 20, a new mom I'd learned in our conversation before the trainer got there.  Trainer got there.  Put us thru a solid hour of (boring, sorry, it's just me) things about what we can/can't/should/shouldn't do under their employ.  "Are there any questions?" trainer asked upon completion.  "Yes, I have one" the new mom, 20 yr old lass piped up with.  I'm thinking she's gonna ask about "what if my kid is sick?" or, "what kind of shoes should we wear?" and she comes with "Can I have pink hair when I work the checkout?"
Her thing.  Her just right porridge. 

I love much.  Basketball, grandkids, driving with my top down, weekly Happy Hour with lifelong townie friends, the KC Star, Royals/Chiefs, golf, many trades, but master of none.  Consumed a hunnerd percent of the time by none.

Older I get, the more I'm ok if I don't necessarily fit, ain't pigeon holed.

If I had a hammer.. I'd hammer in the morning.. but probably not at night.

Love, a wierdo