Posting daily at 1pm central about all kinds of things. One day it's dating, the next it's TV commercials. I hope you're entertained. Professional photos on SmugMug – https://benwilder.smugmug.com
I must have a sign on my forehead that says, “doesn’t have enough problems”… as if being short wasn’t enough! Yes, I wish I was a little bit taller, but I really, really wish I’d see poison ivy before I touch it. And then proceed to touch my ear. My eye. My other ear. But to be perfectly honest, I kind of think of it the same way I see sun tans (real ones, like, from the actual sun). A tan from the sun means your outside enjoying all outside has to offer. You get hot, you get sweaty, sometimes you get burned, but hey, you’re out there. You’re experiencing the marvelous wonder that is nature. Same with poison ivy. I was out there climbing through trees. I was helping my dogs track a mole. I was watching deer trot by. Given the opportunity to be outside on a nice day, don’t mind if I don’t!
Soon the itching will stop but one thing remains the same: cats really are the worst.
We were walking, we were wagging our tails, everything was fine then BAM! I’m bleeding with poop in my hand.
How did we get there so fast, you ask? Well, it happens when you have dogs. I took Piper and Asia to a nearby greenway, one of my favorites because it runs along Mill Creek in south Nashville. About a half-mile in we left the pavement to go down to the creek. They were panting so this was a great opportunity for them to cool their little paws in the rocky rush of cool water. Totally would’ve been awesome had they not discovered something in the brush near the creek that day. I didn’t know what that something was but I could see they were both chewing it. I made haste to remove it from both their mouths, having to do a finger sweep on Piper before she ingested the substance. I usually can scare Asia enough to command obedience, but not Piper. When she’s in the wild, she’s a wolf in beagle clothing… a scavenger in every sense of the word. I say that to help paint a picture of me trying to remove what she was eating, and her actively resisting that idea altogether. She was consuming as much as my fingers would let slip by and in her haste, she bit down on my fingers, drawing blood. So now I’m faced with a cut finger that I’m about to rinse in an unsanitary creek. But that’s not even the worst part.
The worst part is I don’t think it was animal poop.
There’s nothing deep about today’s post. But sometimes I just feel like throwing a brick through a car windshield. Probably because I’m a dude and enjoy stuff like this:
Anything you’re willing to do on your lunch break is an addiction. Some people smoke. Some eat food. Me and my friend at work? No, we’re not that normal. We get in my car and drive to Vanderbilt Hospital for a silly annual competition that’s very annual, and actually anything but silly. It all started in 2010 when some medical people came to CMT for health screenings. They mostly just check the basics: heart rate, blood pressure, cholestoral levels, that sort of thing. They also measure body fat percentage. For 4 years this is the measurement my friend and I competed in. Two of those he was less fat, and two I was less, which lead us to 2014. A must-win situation because it’s the all-important tie-breaker. We arrived at work that day of the health assessment with excitement only to find out the Tanita Body Composition Analyzer was nowhere in sight! Are you kidding me? I’m just glad they took my blood pressure before I knew the machine wasn’t there. Will we have to wait another year for the tie-breaking numbers? Devastation ensued. That is, until Jill Brewster saved the day! She said to come by Vanderbilt later that day and she’ll break out Tanita for our annual battle.
Long story short, you’re reading the blog of the 2014 victor! Feel free to clap as long as you want. Although, I don’t know what’s more nerdy. That he and I have a body fat competition 5 years running, or that I’m excited enough to write about it. But it does give me an idea for another post. I’m thinking I’ll call it, “Valid reasons I’m still single.”
That’s part of “Another Story,” one of my favorite songs from one of my favorite bands—The Head and the Heart. Every time I hear it, from the very first word, I think of my grandparents Mom-Mom and Pop. I think about the house they lived in for a hundred years it seems. Pop built the house with his own two hands. Does anyone still do that? I miss him and think about him pretty much every day. He died earlier this year. A couple of weeks ago Mom-Mom followed him up to Heaven and now I’m faced with the sobering reality that all of my grandparents are gone. Did I learn enough from them? Did I sit and listen to them talk when I had the chance? I will say this: I was blessed beyond compare that my grandparents were part of my life. That they took interest in me as a sometimes bratty child, a sometimes bratty adult. I’m not glossing over the fact that any time spent with them was a gift because grandparents like Mom-Mom and Pop, and Me-Mom and GrandDaddy can’t be common. I refuse to believe anyone else has grandparents as loving, as funny, as devoted to the family and devoted to God as mine were. That will always be a sparkle on the memory I have of them. As Christian as it is to say, “They’re in a better place,” I still miss them. I’m sad.
I’m doing pretty good at distracting myself from thinking about the loss too much, but then I’ll smell Pop’s Sunday church cologne. Or catch a scent that reminds me of their house in Monticello, Florida. I’ll hear GrandDaddy’s southern voice recalling his time in World War II. Or Me-Mom telling stories about me as a child. In those moments I want to go back. I want to go on like it once was. But I can’t. Time doesn’t move that way. I can only hope the memories don’t disappear. And what I can take from this feeling of loss is to carry on the family name. To carry my grandfather’s pocket knife. To see gray hair on my head as a blessing that I might get to live as old as they did. To have my nieces and nephew think of me the way I think of my grandparents. Yes, I try to be fun. Yes, I’m up for adventures. But just as important, I love them. And I love God. I will not stray from that. I will not stray from Him. I can’t.
This is 2014 and I’m 35 years old. I know I’ll look back and see this as a pivotal year for me. I’m excited about that, but sure do wish my grandparents were here to see it.
Out of the Wilderness 