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As we launched into 2017, I see all sorts of resolution and other feel good articles how to live a better life this year.  Frankly, I wonder why we need prompting to do what should be done in the first place.  For most people, there are a few top “resolutions” with simple solutions:

  1. Want to lose weight and get in shape? Quit eating poorly and exercise.  The food that goes into your mouth comes directly from your own hand.  You don’t need a gym membership to roll your carcass out of bed in the morning and take 30-45 minutes to walk/run, do some push ups, planks, and get on with your day.  Get your ass out of bed a little earlier in the morning, exercise, and quit eating junk. Why is that so difficult?
  2. Want to make more money? Focus on what brings in revenue rather wasting time on crap that does not pay the bills.  Take a look where the money comes from and increase your effort to make more.  The harder you work, the luckier you get, monetize everything!
  3. Want to live a better life? Read 1 & 2, then organize your time:
  • Each day has 24 hours and each week has 168 hours.
  • If you work 45 hours per week, that leaves 123 hours.
  • If you sleep 48 hours a week (8 hours a night), that leaves 75 hours.
  • So that leaves 75 hours a week, 10.71 hours a day that you are not working or sleeping.  Surely if you want to better educate yourself, start a new hobby, spend more time doing anything, the math above dictates that it’s possible.

Make the decision to take command of yourself and life will get better.  From the Command Post (W), Cheers Y’all! #thefuneralcommander

 

acute_angina1 Okay, so this time last year I was recovering from a serious medical event  that should have, for all practical purposes killed me.  But as my kids say, “it’s  hard to kill ’em”  (referring to my side of the family).  I distinctly remember  being in the back of a siren blasting ambulance thinking to myself that with  all the close calls in my life including Iraq scud missiles bursting overhead  upon impact of our Patriot missiles, this little episode isn’t going get me  either.

Upon arrival a the hospital and some excellent quick work by the cardiac physician on duty, my “widow maker” was reopened and I was extended life…again.  After being moved into the ICU strapped down like a Hannibal Lecter, I then endured the barrage of family, friends and medical staff coming to see that I again cheated death, and of course to tell me that I have to “slow down.”  Yea right.

Interestingly my diet was pretty good, I exercise regularly and had a physical only 2 months prior that I did well with “no issues.”  Obviously they got this one wrong.  Thanks to modern medicine, I’m going to keep living life, but better living through chemicals…you know medicine.  I never took medicine beyond some seasonal allergy stuff and in my younger days, a bottle of Pepto Bismol after a night of alcohol buffoonery. So, one change of getting older…I now watch the drug commercials sometimes wondering if what I’m taking is going to give me bleeding eyes, itchy ears and some “seeping” issues as side effects.

After 3 days in ICU I went home and was on “house arrest” which meant I was supposed to chill. The second day I jumped in my car just to drive around for some scenery change and a cigar. During my confinement I also had to be “taken” to the hospital to meet with the rehab folks to “get me in line” so I could live longer.  When I walked in the rehab facility, I thought I was a geriatric health club.  I have never seen so many white Rockports and exercise suits in my life.  The counselor proceeded to ask me questions about family history, my eating habits, work habits, exercise routines, social habits, etc.  Upon conclusion and her review, she started right off the top with “well, you are going to have to stop eating chips, drinking any alcohol and the cigars must go.”  At that, I laughed and said “nope, I must go…now”…never to return.

Okay, so here is my theory on life and getting older.  First, either you do or you don’t.  I refuse to do anything other than to live what I have left any other way than what makes me happy…cigars and all. If eating chips sometimes is going to kill me, so what…I am going to die of something.  Medicine? Well, I have not had any notable side effects that would cause me to stop my taking prescriptions, but I still pay attention to the commercials. I’m not going to wear white Rockports for exercise, and yes golf is exercise. I currently have severe hearing loss from my military days and really is no solution for tinnitus. …so I’m the “what did they say” guy already.  I will drive until someone hides my keys.  As if this is a revelation, as I get older I will continue to speak my mind…I’m a believer of not telling you to go to hell, but the truth, and that feels like hell.  If you are a woman, I’ll call you “ma’am” no matter your age, I won’t write the response to women here that find that “offensive” .  When I think you look nice, I’m going to tell you, get over yourself, I’m not hitting on you.  I’m still too vain with my hair not being combed in public and to not dress nice. I refuse for my belt buckle to point downwards (from an oversized belly)…nor am I going to pull my pants up just below my nipples (at least not yet). Getting older also, for whatever reason (maybe from overuse when we are young) our sex life slows up a bit…oh well. On rare occasions, this subject presents tough decisions. Frankly sometimes I choose a good sandwich, chips and watching football…unlike sex, it lasts longer and I can nap along the way.

A year later, I’m still pretty much me.  I want to continue to be no one else and try to bring humor (my style) to approach life… my acuteangina and all.  If I had known I had one, I probably would had done things differently a long time ago.  Getting older is funny…Cheers y’all.

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