30 Summers of Failure

How many fumbled attempts does it take for you to figure out that you need a change of plan?  For me, it’s apparently 30.  Why thirty?  That’s how many years God has given me to deal with this fair skin that makes an Irishman look like a bronzed, Brazilian goddess.  Give me three hours in direct sunlight and I’ll show you the color pallet for stop signs, fire engines, and a farmer’s market tomato that your mother would approve of.

The sexiest part of that tan line is that it’s about half an inch below all of my t-shirts, EXCEPT for the Detroit Tigers top that I wore to the baseball game that delivered the above self-esteem obliterator/natural body enhancement.

You know how you feel naked without a hair tie around your wrist?  Solved that problem!

Shouldn’t be an issue for the next 6-8 days.

To make myself feel better, I joined my mom for a lunch date with some of her friends yesterday afternoon.  I know most of these women from the years when I would visit my mom at work and play Secretary in the adjoining offices.  I wrote a mean memo with highlighter!

Lunch was in Old Town, this great eclectic, stroll-the-sidewalk-shops part of town.  When I was growing up, this neighborhood was SCARY! but a few investors moved in, cleaned it, artsy-fartsied it up, and now it’s a great location to spend the afternoon.

One of the reasons why I love spending the summer at my parents’ house is because it’s so centrally located to so many walkable areas of town.  In twenty minutes, we were porch-to-sun deck to our final destination.

While waiting for a few of the ladies, Mom and I snagged some iced tea and took in the scenery.

When all five of our afternoon party had arrived, we went in to dine.  Now, if you’re getting together on a Friday afternoon to chat with ladies, you may not be so keen on the idea of a concert being performed 15 feet away from your table, but we listened for a little while, and within 10 minutes of us all arriving, the guitarist was done and on his way to his next gig.

“He sounded nice, but it was just a little too loud for my taste,” uttered the 90 year old in a 30 year old’s body.

4 thoughts on “30 Summers of Failure

  1. Love this post. Sorry about the sunburn, but I’m glad you got to get out with your mom and friends to take your mind off things. Getting out of the house always helps me when I’m in a bummed mood.

  2. Pingback: June Wrap Up and July Goals | Fancy Oatmeal

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