Intervention

Is it weird that I would like to stage an intervention for myself?  No, I am not a alcohol or drug addict. (I do have an issue with Marlboro's, but that a for a different post)  I am at a crossroads. Sometimes I think it's a deadend.
I am a man of a certain age (and not a pretty one). To put it all in harsh terms, I have no home of my own, no car of my own and no job or career of my own. And I am spent...kaput...beaten down...in the crapper... depleted.  Don't get  me wrong, I have a place to live (thank you Betty) and a car to drive and sometimes (not very often) I have a little bit of income.  But really, not quite the picture I had in mind years ago as I graduated from college and planned out my life. I am having serious trouble trying to figure this out for myself.

So, this is how I see my imaginary "intervention" playing out:  My friends and family trap me in a room in my living room. I have a look of shock and dismay on my face. No one is saying anything in the tensely quiet room until my friend Kellie (she's the ballsiest) finally says, "We are here to save you from yourself".  I say, "What?".  She says, "You are a mess. You have to get it together!"  I say, "I'm together!".  And in unison everyone in the room says. "No, you're not!"   Everyone except my brother (he's a puss around confrontation) and my friend Stephanie who is sobbing in the corner.  I get angry.  I throw an imaginary metal chair into an imaginary glass door. I yell something brilliant like, "You are not the boss of me!" and I try to bolt. But Kellie (the ballsiest)  who is now joined by Karen (the second ballsiest) stop me.  I break down. My defenses are down and say, "What should I do?" .
Crickets.  Deafening silence. Nothing.
And thus ends my imaginary intervention. It ends with no answers. No answers.



What would Betty say to this dilemma? She would say, "I told you to major in Business!" And then she would ramble for about 10 minutes about some friend's son that majored in business and is now regional manager of Walmart.

Everybody's Doing It!

Well, Betty always said..."Why are you wearing that?" And I would say, "Everybody is wearing pucca beads and orange bell bottom jeans, MOTHER!"  She would say, "I don't know why you always have to do everything everyone else is doing?  I guess if they jumped off a bridge you would follow them."  "No", I would say. "I'd be the first one off the bridge, MOTHER!" 

In this case Mother you are right.  I am now following others and creating my own blog. Everybody's doing it!
And I can't be left out.  Unfortunately, this time I am a follower and not a leader.  I follow my dear friends, Brent and Suzanne into blogdom. Hopefully, witty musings will follow as well.

So, I am Betty Howard's second son. Her youngest baby.  She's dead now so I don't feel too bad about telling stories about her.  (okay, I have a little bit of guilt, but then again, not much)  She was a talker. She talked and talked and talked. Conversations were very one sided. The legend goes that once in the late 60's Betty had a 9 hour continuous phone conversation with her friend Janie Cox. In that 9 hours, she cooked lunch, washed dishes, did two loads of laundry, looked after 3 rowdy kids, canned beans, cooked and served dinner and washed more dishes - all while talking to her friend...on a corded phone.  Later in life, she cut those conversations down to 3 or 4 hours. And you can imagine what the invention of the cordless phone did for her productivity!

Don't get me wrong.. I can talk too.  I just didn't get to talk much around my mother.

Now Betty's son speaks!