"A person doing his or her best becomes a natural leader, just by example." Joe DiMaggio

Note: Joe DiMaggio would be 100 years old today.

On CBSNEWS.com today: scientists were shocked to discover examples of seals sexually assaulting penguins. Those scientists have clearly never owned a Cocker Spaniel, a dog that will hump anything animate or inanimate.

I got my stitches out this morning, one of the final steps in getting this episode in the rear view mirror. Before the PA came into the examining room I sat there thinking about how weird that space felt. It's the practice of a plastic surgeon, a specialist whose bread and butter is not stitching up the faces of old men who've had melanomas cut out of their cheek. On the counter across from me was a display from a company that apparently makes breast implants. The plastic display had three implants, all the same size but labeled with different names. Not anything as descriptive as hard, medium, soft, but the kind of made up names the drug companies like to stick on their medicines that sound good but don't really say anything. Aventia, Provartis....
So did I go over and feel them to see what the difference was?

Part of the healing process includes a green and purple strip going down my neck that gets a little more vivid each day. Beautiful.

MTV programming no longer includes music videos. I don't really care since I never watched them back when they did. But I miss the old CNN, back in the day when they did news stories, one after another. Even their sister station, HLN (Headline News) is closer to People Magazine than anything resembling real news. And it's not like there isn't plenty of legit stuff to report on.

I have a confession to make, the admission of a weakness that rises above the inability to notice that the street on which I'm driving west is a one-way street heading east.
Pam and I are in what I think could be described as our golden years, not because of our age but because we seem to have reached a period in our relationship when things are a very easy, relaxed kind of good. We understand, accept, and, more importantly, value each other's unique set of strengths and weaknesses. We work well together when something comes up. We are each other's favorite person to be with.
There's more, but as I type I realize it's not something I can describe in words. It's a state I suspect can only come after decades of marriage, is peculiar to each couple that arrives there, and is not so much the absence of conflict as it is the ease of being one.
My confession? Sometimes I'm afraid that having arrived here (I can't tell you when it happened because it's something that comes a little like autumn - emerging, not showing up like someone on your front porch) it will be end too soon by death. Part of that fear is my natural inclination to over-think things instead of just being, and some of it comes from experiencing a heart that stops inexplicably and melanoma. I'm not the least bit afraid of death or dying, but I want this stage of our relationship to continue indefinitely.

When I was in 6th or 7th grade we went to see the H.S. musical my older brother was part of. I'd never been to a live stage production before, never mind something as captivating as a musical, with staging, actors, and an orchestra. I remember where we sat - center section about eight rows back - and how totally enthralled I was with the experience. I don't remember which musical it was, and even at the time wasn't following the plot line. If I was I wouldn't have been so worried that each song was the last.
I sat there thinking, "Oh no. At the end of this song they're going to tell us, 'OK, folks. That's the end. Thank you for coming' and it will all be over." I've looked back on that experience and realized my fear that the end was near robbed me of thoroughly enjoying the experience.

Besides that, my fear - too strong a word in this context but I can't think of another - that death will break up this marital ease is entirely inconsistent with my theological convictions.

It's not like it keeps me awake at night or occupies me throughout the day. But every once in awhile, like last week after a particularly significant couple of days of being in whatever we're going to call this place, I think about how much I want us to have decades more. I don't want the musical to be over, ever.

I suppose that's good. I sure wouldn't want a marriage like Helen had! (see last night's post) But I also don't think it makes much sense to worry about an end that is certain to occur and which will happen at God's perfect time, neither a moment before or after.
Yeah, I over think stuff.