When this goes live, I’ll be on the road to the Financial Bloggers Conference outside of Chicago. That translates to a day off here.
Monday, I’ll be back with a whole bucket full of bloggy goodness.
Huh?
Am I the only one who just noticed that it’s Wednesday? The holiday week with the free day is completely screwing me up.
Just to make this a relevant post:
Spend less!
Save more!
Invest!
Wee!
Deathbed Regrets
A friend recently pointed me to an article written by a hospice nurse. This nurse spent her career working with people who were dying, beyond recovery, and aware of it. Her job, primarily, was to provide comfort, whether that be physical or emotional.
During her conversations, she found several themes when her patients discussed their regrets and she lists the 5 most common regrets in her article.
I wish I’d had the courage to live a life true to myself, not the life others expected of me.
I don’t see this one being an issue for me. While I did buy in to a standard life template (college, wife, kids, suburbs, office, etc.), I am me. I am undeniably me.
I’d be delusional to think that I wasn’t a bit…different. I see things differently than a lot of other people, I react differently, and I’m vocal about it. That sometimes makes it hard to get close to me. I doubt anyone who is close to me would argue with that.
I also tend to do things. Most people talk about doing things, I try to make them happen. “I wish I were out of debt”, “Honey, I want to start a business”, “Let’s drop 40 pounds this year”, or “I want to build a trebuchet”. I think I know why my wife gets nervous when I say “I have an idea”.
I may not be running anyone else’s script, but at the end of the day, I’d regret not doing things more than I’d regret trying them.
I wish I didn’t work so hard.
This one is a personal struggle for me. I’m scared of missing my children grow up. I hate the idea of looking back and finding my children as adults, with few memories of how they got there.
At the same time, I’ve got a pile of debt I need to get rid of before I can dial back too far. I could quit my job tomorrow, but that wouldn’t be providing a good life for them.
My worry, and the worry of some people close to me, is that, once the debt is gone, I won’t be able to let go of my extreme work hours, even though I’m working so hard now to be able to work less later. “Later”, in this case, means a couple of years, not retirement.
I wish I’d had the courage to express my feelings.
Ugh. Feelings. If this is a standard deathbed regret, I’m screwed. My loved ones know I love them, but other than that, I’m happy to be in control of myself.
I wish I had stayed in touch with my friends.
I do. It’s not always close contact, but it is contact.
I’m of the opinion that life’s too short to spend time with people you dislike, so some people have been relegated to the past. My friends, my family, my loved ones are a part of my life, even if it’s occasionally months between emails or years between visits.
I wish that I had let myself be happier.
I think I do pretty well on this front, too. Happiness is a choice. I could worry about all of the things that aren’t perfect, or I could enjoy the things I have. I choose to enjoy what I’ve got, even while trying to improve the rest.
In the words of Denis Leary : “Happiness comes in small doses folks. It’s a cigarette, or a chocolate cookie, or a five second orgasm. That’s it, ok! [You] eat the cookie, you smoke the butt, you go to sleep, you get up in the morning and go to…work, ok!? That is it!”
Happiness isn’t a hobby farm, a new job, or a dream vacation. Happiness is a date with my wife, or cuddling with my kids to Saturday morning cartoons, or taking my son to the range.
Happiness is the things I’m doing now, not the dreams I’m hoping for someday.
Good Friday
We don’t have daycare on Good Friday.
We do, however, both have to work today. Two rounds of little-girl tonsillitis have zapped our available vacation time.
On an entirely related note, we put our 12 year old son through Red Cross babysitter training a few weeks ago, just for something like this.
My wife gets nervous at the idea of leaving the girls with the boy for very long. I think she thinks the world will explode if he takes care of them correctly.
Our solution for today is to have a slightly older friend come over and help.
She’s 13 and she brought her 10 year old brother with her.
That’s kids aged 3,5,10,12, and 13 in my house today. Total Lord of the Flies.
Hold that thought.
My son, being 12, doesn’t feel it’s necessary to brush his hair for school, or change his clothes every day, and he needs to be reminded to brush his teeth.
This morning, he woke himself up and ran into the bathroom. He emerged with clean teeth and combed hair. I asked him if he was wearing the same shirt as yesterday, and he flew into his room to change.
Hmm. Something is afoot.
While I was putting my shoes on, I reminded him to take care of the house and his sisters, and he made some smart-aleck joke in response.
She giggled.
Watson, I think I’ve found a clue.
Her father told me, just yesterday, the she thinks boys are gross.
The boy has never shown an interest in girls, until this morning.
Grr. The next decade just got considerably more interesting.
Time to lock them both in their respective basements until college.
Happy Form
If you don’t know why you are hear, please read about the 21 Day Happiness Training Challenge.
Requiescat In Pace
Today, I am sitting at a funeral. My oldest friend’s dad died on Sunday.
Mark had an amazing ability to make anyone feel like family, from the moment he met them. The day I introduced him to my wife, he taught her to throw a tomahawk, and she still talks about it, 10 years later.
I don’t have a post in me today.
Mark Wayne Dwire, 61, was accepted into his father’s arms surrounded by his family June 24th. Mark was born to Wyman
(Jack) and Donna (Hasbrouck) Dwire on March 25th, 1951 in Park Rapids, MN. Mark graduated from Walker/Hackensack High School in 1969. He was married to Sherry (Garbers) Dwire on July 31st, 1971. Mark was a business entrepreneur. He started as a logger when you could still make a living with a chainsaw and a tractor.
Mark was proceeded in death by his father, step father Robert Dwire and stepfather Patrick Harrington, his brother Kerwin Dwire.
Mark is survived by his wife Sherry, his mother Donna (Hasbrouck) Harrington, children Jesse, Jason, Terra Fine (Andrew), Jeremiah (Tanja), and Daughter-in-law Elizabeth. Mark loved his grandchildren Cameron, Emily, Madelyn, Lydia, Faith, Elaina and Ellery. He was fondly referred to as ‘Super Papa’. He is also survived by many siblings, nieces, nephews and cousins.
