Tag Archives: funny

My List Is Complete

About twenty years ago I managed a pizza delivery store in Panama City Beach for a couple of friends of mine. During the spring break season, we were open 24 hours a day. It was busy. According to our food distributor, we were the busiest independent pizza store in the country based on how much cheese we ordered each week during that time. MTV was in town covering the festivities of party-goers, Spinnaker and La Vela were packed every night, and the strip was bumper to bumper traffic for miles all day, and continuing late into the night. Needless to say, getting everything done each day was a monumental task.

One of the guys I worked for there was a list-keeper. Everything he needed to do was on a list. It wasn’t always the neatest looking lists, but it worked for him. He kept everything in Steno pads. And he always seemed to have everything crossed off his list at the end of the day, for the most part. I was impressed with his ability to get it all done, but also not happy with myself for never finishing my list and always having to move things to the next day. I was a great manager, but for some reason, I could never cross everything off my list.

I finally asked him one day, “How do you get it all done? You have a page full of stuff, the same as me, but you get a lot more of it done than I do.” His reply changed my life. Well, that’s a little dramatic, but his words certainly have stayed with me for more 20 years. It was so simple. I still use his strategy today. He said, “When I get something done, I add it to my list and check it off.” Mind blown. Eyes opened. Life changed. The philosophy of that simple idea is amazingly deep.

He would start his list with what was important to be accomplished. It might only be a small handful of things. As he would get things done throughout the day, he would add those things to his list. Since those things were already done, as he added him to the list, he would check them off. That’s brilliant. Do you realize how much stuff we actually get done in a day? If you made a list, you would know. And if you knew how much you do get done, maybe you wouldn’t beat yourself up for not completing your to-do list, a list that might be unrealistic to begin with.

As 2017 draws to a close, I look back on the year and I know I did not even come close to getting all the things done that I wanted to this year. If I had made a list at the beginning of the year of all the things I wanted to get done in 2017, that list would still need some work, or the year would need to be extended. But I won’t lament or lose any sleep about not finishing my hypothetical list. I will, however, be happy with what I did accomplish, even if some of it is trivial or perhaps less productive in the big picture of life as I see it. I still got a lot done this year. I survived. And that is a rather huge accomplishment in and of itself in some respects.

I finish this year broke, but none of my bills are behind. Except my student loans, which will likely never get paid. I didn’t get much done this year on the novel I’m writing, but I estimate that I wrote about 30,000 words to my blog in 2017. Neither of those endeavors pay the bills. I really just want to make a living as a writer, but I like the job I have and the people I work with. I’m not where I want to be in life, but I am certainly not where I was a short while ago, which is a good thing. I didn’t finish everything on my list for 2017, but I am pretty happy with what I did get done, including the less important things I added to the list as I went along.

My friends, do not make an overwhelming list for yourself that you cannot finish. Once you start moving things to the next day, it becomes easier and easier to keep doing that. You will never get it done that way. Pick a few things that are important. As you move throughout your day, week, or year, add to your list the other, less important things you get done and check them off. You’ll be surprised by how much you really get done, even when it doesn’t feel like it. Happy New Year to you all. May 2018 be a year of checking off the important things on our lists and realizing how important the things not on the list are that we get done as well.

Thanks for stopping by this year. Hope to see you in 2018. Good day, God bless.

Dave

J.F.D.R.T.

For the vast majority of us that serve in the military, we simply do a job. It’s not completely unlike jobs in the civilian world. The military has human resources, cooks, IT personnel, police officers, engineers, management, instructors, lawyers, doctors, and the list goes on. I’ve had three jobs with the army. Construction Surveyor, Wire Systems Installer, and my current job, Chaplain Assistant. And for my current job, I’m also an instructor. It’s not always exciting, but I like it. And that’s how it usually works for most of us, both in the military and the civilian world.

There are a select few in the military that become part of elite groups. Special Forces, Rangers, Sappers, and others. (Sappers are like the Rangers, but for smart kids- LOL). I was never part of any of those distinguished groups. But, while I was deployed to Iraq, I was part of a very small, very special group that had carried out a number of extremely important missions. The group was made up of myself, a Navy Chaplain Assistant, and an Air Force Chaplain Assistant. The three of us shared an office in the chapel at Camp Bucca, Iraq.

We were part of J.F.D.R.T (pronounced jif-dirt). And don’t try to Google it, you won’t find anything about it. It was that big of a secret. Either that, or maybe because the three of us made it up. J.F.D.R.T. stands for Joint Forces Dessert Recovery Team. Ok, we made it up. The three of us shared many a meal together at the Camp Bucca Dining Facility and after each meal, one of us would go on the mission of retrieving dessert for the group. As I said, extremely important missions. Thus began the long and storied tradition of J.F.D.R.T.

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T/Sgt Espino, me, and RP2 Davis.  J.F.D.R.T. outside the Camp Bucca Chapel.

Maybe it wasn’t so much a long and storied tradition as much as it was us trying to survive the boredom at Camp Bucca. The three of us each had important jobs taking care of our troops as part of our Unit Ministry Teams. Unfortunately, our jobs basically kept us at desks for most of our deployment, unless we were escorting our chaplains to the TIF (Theater Internment Facility) at the south end of the compound to provide chaplain support to those in our unit doing guard duty. My job in Iraq was sometimes monotonous and boring, but it wasn’t terribly hard. And fortunately, I worked with some great people that kept it entertaining.

 

See? They look entertaining.

Coming from different branches of the military, each member of J.F.D.R.T. ribbed each other about who was better: the army, the navy, or the air force. Obviously, the army, but I played along so they wouldn’t get their feelings hurt. And the two of them piled on me about being a reservist. They were both active duty. We played great practical jokes on each other. We got on each other’s nerves and we also put up with each other. We helped each other out, covered shifts for each other, and when we could, we made fun of each other. We were family. Sometimes dysfunctional, just like blood family. But we always had each other’s back, no matter what. And we always had dessert when we ate together.

 

I miss those guys. J.F.D.R.T. may not have been real, but being part of it helped get us through a stretch of deployment and made it a little more bearable. Thanks for taking the time to stop by Story of My Life. Good day, God bless.

Dave

Hit By A Bus

For the first time in almost a year and a half, I was ill enough to seek medical treatment. It’s not often, but when I get sick, it seems to hits me pretty hard. I’m not a man-baby when I get sick, I work through it, and do it very well most of the time. That’s probably why it feels as bad as it does when illness finally catches up to me, because I don’t take the time to rest and get well when I need to. Why can’t I just be sick on my days off? That would make life so much easier.

Basically, my kids make me sick. Wait! No! They got me sick, they don’t make me sick. I love them to death. And they love me so much, they shared their little germs with me. And now I’m sick. It started last weekend when my boys spent the weekend with me. Wait, no. It started two weeks ago, far from where I was. They passed it around to each other for a while until it finally caught up to me. They have always shared their things nicely, even being sick.

My two high school band kids had a band trip two weeks ago. Five hours each way, on busses, close quarters, lots of breathing on each other. Probably sharing drinks, perhaps some public displays of affection, or at least hugging and hand-shaking during the weekend trip. All those germs getting spread around just waiting for prey. Some of the band kids came home sick, at least one of mine at first, then the other to follow. I confirmed this with one of my co-workers who also has a child in the band, who also was sick. I think we have enough evidence to say that the high school band is at fault for me feeling like I got hit by a bus load full of viruses.

When I finally couldn’t take it anymore, I still made it to work but left two hours early to go see the doctor. And then I left early the next day as well. A big shout out of thanks to Cody for covering for me at work. And thanks to my boss for letting me go. Although, my boss might have just been trying to avoid the paperwork that comes from an employee dying on the job. LOL. Apparently, dying on the job is frowned upon and creates an abundance of paperwork that no one wants to do. But I wonder if they would clock me out or call 9-1-1 first, after I collapse. Hopefully, we won’t have to find out and the medications will start kicking in and making me well again.

I can probably count on my ten fingers how many full days I’ve missed of work in the last twenty years from being sick. And the last time I felt this sick was 2013 at Fort Hood getting ready to deploy to Afghanistan. In retrospect, it was good that I got sick there in 2013. The hospital did a chest x-ray, which showed my lungs to be clear as a bell. After deployment, a chest x-ray shows that my lungs are no longer clear. Much needed evidence in my continuing fight with the VA. But that’s a different story.

Back to my kids and them getting me sick. It doesn’t bother me, it’s not like I have a choice. This has happened dozens of times over the years. It’s one of the less-than-spectacular parts of being a parent, but it is part of it and usually not a big deal. Although, this time it felt like the Grim Reaper might be following me around to remind me that I am still just a mortal man. I already know that, so back off Mr. Reaper. We got nothing to talk about, this isn’t an episode of Supernatural.

As for my kids, they will continue to go on band trips, and to swim meets, and cross country meets, and all the other activities they are involved with in and out of school. And even though they will occasionally bring back the plague of death with them and share it with everyone else, I wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world. They are active, talented, athletic, involved, and have wonderful, busy lives doing things they enjoy. That’s a fair trade. Go and have fun my kiddos, I love watching you all do what you do. And I love you bunches.

Good day, God bless.

Dave

Abstract

I fell asleep thinking about you, hoping to see you in my dreams. You didn’t show. But that’s ok, I know you’re busy. I should shave my beard since that’s what derailed the last dream and turned it into a nightmare. Even the smallest ripple can turn into a tsunami that engulfs my slumber when my dreams start to go sideways. And once it starts, there’s no stopping it.

I enjoyed a couple of naps this week. I’ve hired a nap coach so I can get better at it. I hope to turn pro at it one day. I wonder what the pay is for a napper at the top of his game. Could it be classified as a sport and what would the scoring system entail? And would the TV commentators whisper into the microphone, “Oh my gosh! He nailed it! Look at his form.” Regardless, I’m sure everyone who gets a nap is a winner. I think we should all explore this.

I’ve been wondering some things. What do the constellations look like from somewhere else in the galaxy? Or even outside the galaxy? Would Orion’s Belt become Orion’s Suspenders? Or perhaps the Big Dipper looks like a bottle of wine from opposite of where we are. Maybe a giant bottle of chardonnay? And we’ll need a colossal size bottle of booze in less than 4 billion years when the Andromeda Galaxy comes crashing into ours. That’s going to be one hell of a party. I should put a reminder in my phone for it.

Today feels like Friday. But, in fact, it is Saturday. I wrote this on Wednesday. You figure it out. Days of the week mean very little to me anymore.

I used to believe in Santa Claus. I’m trying to believe in myself again. I do believe in Jesus, so I got that going for me. But of those three, the only one I really talk to anymore on a regular basis is Me. You should hear the arguments I have with Me. But I am very happy that no one can see what’s going on inside my head at any given time. If you could, you would either be extremely entertained or terribly horrified. At least that how it works for me, having this front row seat to it.

Sometimes I have memories that I’m not sure are really mine. I don’t know how they got in my head; nonetheless, they are here. But I’m not convinced they belong to me. If you are missing some of your memories, please have your people call my people and we’ll work something out. Otherwise, the ones that go unclaimed will be put on craigslist.

I’ve had green tea in Japan, hot tea in England, chai tea in Iraq. As a southerner, you would think that I drink sweet tea. I don’t much care for it. But I like beer. The chai tea in Iraq was the best. But the grits were horrible. They definitely weren’t southern. And don’t get me started on the so-called red beans and rice they served us in Afghanistan. Not even close. Not. Even. Close.

Ladies and Gentlemen, The Law of Diminishing Return is real. And the best way to counter it is to go backwards, then it can only get better. Read the previous two sentences again. It’s not confusing, it’ll come to you sooner or later.

Today’s crazy abstractness was brought to you by the number Twelve and the color known as Purple. I hope you enjoyed something a little different from me this week. I sure enjoyed writing it. Good day, God bless.

Dave

Last Weekend

Last weekend I had my army reserve training at Ft Jackson, South Carolina. I drive over 500 miles to get there and over 500 miles back home. Almost every month I make the same trip. I leave Florida on Friday morning and get back Sunday night for a regular weekend. I spend about as much time on the road as I do in uniform for my weekends each month. I’ve been in this unit for a couple of years, and despite the weekends where we don’t accomplish much, I like the unit. I don’t mind the drive.

The first few months I was in my unit, I would drive up I-65 to I-85 to I-20 to get to Columbia, SC, where Fort Jackson is located. But my disdain for driving through Atlanta got the best of me so I found a different route. Now I take I-10 across the Florida Panhandle, then go north, driving back roads in Georgia to I-75 before getting on I-20 somewhere around Augusta. It takes a little longer, but the distance and frustration is less than driving through Atlanta. And the view is much better than being on an interstate.

Most months, the drive is good. I like road trips. There’s an always an adventure out there or a new sight to view as I drive. But this trip didn’t work out that way. As it happens from time to time on the road, I became anxious and irritable on my way up to South Carolina. I don’t know which came first, but they worked in tandem to make the whole weekend stressful. Unfortunately, that happens to me sometimes. I was in a funk all weekend.

I have a theory. I used to think it was just traffic and bad drivers in Atlanta. But, after almost two years of research by driving to South Carolina every month using multiple routes, I have concluded that my frustration is with Georgia motorists in general. I’ve been in traffic in India, Kuwait, Afghanistan, and many other countries all over the world (I’ve listed the three worst). Congratulations, Georgia, you suck at driving just as bad as motorists in third-world countries.

Here’s a suggestion. Stop spending so much time trying to figure out if you should call your mom’s brother “Uncle” or “Dad” and look in your state’s driver’s manual and learn how to drive. In that manual, you might find exciting information on how to properly use the lanes on an interstate. For example, stop camping out in the passing lane. Pass, or get out of the way. As far as your inability to use blinkers, refer to your vehicle’s owner’s manual. But here’s the Cliff’s Notes version: The blinkers are operated by the stick that comes out the left side of your steering wheel. Move it UP to turn (or change lanes) to the right, move it DOWN to turn (or change lanes) to the left. You can sit in your driveway and practice if you need. Your manual might have them listed as Turn Signals. Don’t let that confuse you.

On a brighter note, after almost seven months, I finally got some paperwork from the VA that I’ve been needing to turn in to my army reserve unit. It’s paperwork from a psychological evaluation I had last year that will have some bearing on whether or not I stay in the reserves. At this point, I don’t care what they decide to do with me. I just want to know. If I’m staying in, I will continue to give it everything I have. If I’m being put out, fine. But after more than a year and a half of being in Limbo, it’s time for the army to figure it out and tell me what’s going on. Is my career still going or is it over? This has been beyond frustrating for me. Either way, I’m satisfied and proud of what I did in the army. And I’d do it all again, even knowing what I know now.

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(and there’s one more ribbon I still need to add).

Thanks for reading this week. And to my friends that have Georgia tags on their vehicle, sorry, but the part about most of you not knowing how to drive is true. And you know it. And before my Alabama and Louisiana friends laugh and enjoy too much what I’ve written about Georgia motorists, y’all are right behind them on my list. Ha Ha! I hope you all have a great week, thanks for letting me rant, this post made me smile.

Good day, God bless.

Dave

Related posts:

Memories and Afghanistan

I’m ok, I promise

The Soccer Game