The Jingle, Jingle of Tax Season

I have never professed to have an affinity for numbers, in fact, most things that have to do with numbers scare me to death. I panic when I have to calculate a tip at a restaurant.  Who decided to make it 15% anyway?, 20% is so much easier to figure out.  So the months leading up to April 15th are always stressful for me. I try all year to keep track of everything to make preparing for taxes easier, but it seems every year I forget something major. I'm no known for my organizational skills either. That's a big strike one.  I'm a chronic procrastinator. Strike two. But I'm not afraid to get in there and work hard to make sure I don't have to pay any more than necessary. A swing, and a tip.  Still in the game.

My goal this year was to have everything ready by March 1st and... I didn't make it. I started in February to get everything ready thinking I was allowing myself plenty of time. Ball one. One and two.  I got all my monthly bank statements in order, made list after list of deductions for the business and personal stuff, and organized all my years worth of expenditures. Ball two. Two and two.  I worked most every night after work to get everything done because I can never do it during the day; too busy. And once April 1st comes and goes everything is just a blur. I expect to hear a fat lady singing any second. But I did get everything turned in to the CPA by the last week of March this year. Ball three. Still alive.  He called me once with some questions and needed some additional information, but not nearly as much as in years past. 

I got a call two days before the deadline and everything is done. Wow. I made it.  No extension this year.  Yes I had to pay, but I have to pay every year and it wasn't as much, or at least I wasn't as surprised by how much as in years past. The CPA even complimented me on my organizational skills. He thought another accountant helped me get ready. Who'da thunk it.  Oh well, not exactly a home run; more like a walk, but I'll take it.  A score after a walk counts the same as a home run anyway. 

See ya... gotta go to Jake's game.

To me or not to me...THAT is the question

It wasn't that long ago that everyone in the family considered me a mobile garbage disposal.  Everybody just knew that if there was something on their plate that, for whatever reason, they couldn't eat or just didn't want to eat, Dad would clean up.  Sometimes that was very convenient if the food item in question was something undesirable, especially since there was never any question whether or not it would be eaten by the above mentioned scavenger.  It didn't matter if it was the last half of a burger or the last bite of a chicken enchillata, there would be nothing wasted.  It has taken me a life time to realize that it doesn't help the starving children in Somalia or Ethiopia or any where else if I force myself to eat every single last bite on my plate or anyone else's. 

I grew up with stories of great deprivation suffered by my parents during the depression and WWII. Stories of  having nothing to eat to the point of starvation while living in the back woods of southern Kentucky. During the war my mother had to line her shoes with newpaper to keep her feet dry so she could wear them to school in the winter.  I admit that I've never faced those kind of hardships. I rode my bike to school in first grade but it wasn't even up hill; it was flat; both ways.

My point is this. Consider yourselves warned. I am officially abdicating my former position of family vulture.  I will no longer finish someone else's dinner even if it's only one bite. I will also never again dig the last bite of a perfectly grilled hamburger out of the garbage and eat it when no one is looking.  I will continue to try to adjust the amount of food placed on my plate so that even if I do eat it all I'll be able to walk without waddling afterwards. Plan on eating whatever is on your plate, even if its your mother that puts it there, because I will never again say the words,"Are you gonna eat that?" even if it's squash casserole or that chicken and pasta salad that has the grapes in it.

I am setting my sites a little higher; striving for a renewed level of personal dignity never before thought possible in this life time.  It may take years to re-create this new image of myself, but sooner or later people who know me best will look at me and not immediately  think "I wonder where he's been grazing."  So it is with the upmost sincerity that I ask you to wipe this tainted and humiliating image of me from your memories. Remember me as I'm trying to be, not as I was.

Note: This doesn't mean I can't share fries when they bring extras at Red Robin.
                                                  Yummmm

Oh well...

Do you ever catch yourself trying to retrace your steps thinking it will help you remember what you just forgot?  Or you're in the middle of a conversation and you completely blank out and forget what you were going to say?  Or you rehearse in your mind all morning while getting ready for work "Don't forget to take this or don't forget to take that with you" and you still walk right out and leave it at home?  Or you're trying to think of a word in the middle of explaining something to somebody and all you can think of is the first letter?  Or you see somebody that you've known for years and you can't think of their name?  Or somebody says to you, "Do you remember when..." and they proceed to explain a detailed sequence of events that you were involved in and it doesn't even sound remotely familiar?  Or you're in a "discussion" with your youngest son and he says "but dad yesterday you said I could" and you say "no way would I say that" and then you stop and think and honestly you're not sure what you said?  Or you need to run down to the store for three little things and you don't make a list because it's only three little things but you get there and you can only remember two of them and you end up coming home without the third thing?  Or you're playing with your band and it's your turn to sing one of your favorite songs that you know inside and out because you've been singing it in the car, or in the shower, or in your head for years and years and years but now you forget the first verse? 

No? So it IS just me.  Oh well...

Life is good...

Today is the first day for a long time that we've seen the sun and to top it off it must be 50 degrees out there.  Of course, I'm inside all day.  But I did volunteer to take out the trash so I got to walk to the dumpster.  Days like today make me think of all the things I have to be thankful for.  I have a beautiful wife who I adore and who loves me. I have great kids who I'm so proud of I could pop (bad visual) because they seem to be so adept at making correct decisions.  Some are married with wonderful spouses and some are not but they all have bright futures with lots of happiness ahead of them.  I live in a great place where the people are nice and I've been lucky enough to start a successful business because so many people have been so loyal to their eye doctor. 

I know what you're thinking; who are you and what have you done with Geoff Bullock? I know this is very uncharacteristic of me to actually look at the positive side of life, but Merrianne and I had a talk and decided that we both need to do that more.  Don't worry, I'm not going to burst through the front door of my office and skip across the parking lot of my office singing Zip-A-Dee-Do-Da.  I couldn't do that if I wanted to without a couple of cortisone shots in very specific places.  But I do realize that I have a lot to be thankful for so I'm gonna try to act like it.  Keep in mind that this goes against my deepest genetic make up so I may slip occasionally, but I am going to try to be more positive. 

On a lighter note, I feel a little thinner.  I've been pretty faithful about exercising in the evenings and I think it's helping.  Amazing how that works. Who'd of ever thought...?   I can wear some of my shirts that were previously tight around my table muscle and that feels good.  I have a long way to go though, so I'm not bragging just yet.  I've got to keep at it until I hit 200. I'm thinking a Les Paul but I need the full 24 frets to the body for the really high stuff so I'll do my homework.  Speaking of guitars, Savannah and I have a gig tonight.  We're doing Teach Me To Walk In The Light for Young Women's New Beginnings tonight.  She's singing and I be jommin on the guitar mon.  I've got a cool lead solo between the second and third verse. (just kidding, come on lighten up.)  I could do it if I wanted to I just don't want to. 

Gotta go. Lunch is almost over.  Gotta play eye doctor.

                                                              Cool huh                                                                                    

Home at last!

There's nothing like a trip to a foreign land with strange customs and a language that's difficult to understand (South Carolina) that makes you appreciate home with all it's comforts and amenities. Jake and I left on Thursday morning last week early to go see my Dad in Spartanburg. Due to a slight scheduling miscalculation we got to spend the night in the beautiful Detroit metro area just as a snow storm was rolling in. They speak a foreign tongue there too.  We were ordering lunch and someone asked me if I wanted a seeyalid when all I wanted was a burger. 

 We met Todd and Darrell in SC at the airport the next morning and drove on in to see him. We got to visit a few people, take care of some repairs, and shop a little. I drove all over town and didn't get lost once. My initials should be GPS.  Darrell got to see his Dad and Ma-Maw's rocking chair, ride in several different airplanes, and eat out all weekend.  He was in heaven.  Todd and I managed to fix Dad's TV on Saturday after so many trips to Walmart that I lost count.  He hasn't been able to watch football for a year since lightning struck and a power surge took out his analog to digital converter box.  So at least he can see the Superbowl now.  After a relaxing, fun filled 36 hours we were at the airport again on Sunday morning and on the way home. 

The flight from Detroit to SLC was in a 757 and it was completely full.  It was almost 4 hours long and by the time we were down to the last hour it was really hot on that plane.  Jake started feeling a little sick I'm sure from the heat and lack of fresh air.  He made it all the way to SLC and we were standing waiting to get off the plane before he lost it. He's a much more dignified puker than I am; especially on a plane.  At least he didn't miss the bag; and I'll say no more.  We had a 3 hour layover waiting to continue on to Pasco and he started to get some the color back in his face. He was so worn out that he slept for most of the waiting in the airport and the entire flight to Pasco from SLC; poor guy.  We were both glad to get home.

Jake and I both decided that we don't want to go anywhere for awhile. Right now staying home sounds pretty darn good. I've decided that I really love the blowing dust and tumbleweeds, the inversion that robs us of sunshine for most of the winter, the lack of freakishly crazy people and rush hour, summers that are perfect for riding a motorcycle for months at a time with no rain, mountains that are really just glacier formed hills of piled up dirt, and infinite numbers of goatheads.  Yep, there's no place like home!

Older and/or Wiser

There have been many times in my life when I've wondered why older and wiser don't always go together.  Some of us have a much flatter learning curve than others.  Take me for example.  I often don't see the forest for the red hemi Dodge Challenger driving by that I really don't want but I think looks cool. Especially when it has the Shelby stripes and the front end body kit.  I realize that occasionally I'm easily distracted from important things.  I stink at remembering some of the things that matter most while instead I  think of things that are at best superfluous. You ask," So, do you want to do better?" And I ask, "Does a bear poop in the woods, do you need more than one napkin at Famous Dave's, do most NBA players have egos as big as their checking accounts; of course I want to do better!"

Since this is the first of the year and tradition dictates making several resolutions and then placing bets on when I'll break them, I've decided to make some conscious changes (since unconscious changes are so much more difficult.) I really want to eat better and I now realize after all these years that more is not better.  That goes against everything I was taught growing up.  So I will eat more healthy meals and in more moderate amounts.  With any luck by summer I can lose20 or 30 or 40 pounds.  You may ask yourself "why the sudden philosophical change and uncharacteristic desire to do better?"  Well, Merrianne has told me that if I can get down to 200 pounds I can buy a new guitar.  OK, there, I said it. I really do want to do better but I also really want a Les Paul; or maybe an SG; I haven't decided yet.  There's nothing like the warm, fuzzy sound of a Gibson humbucker pickup when its overdriven and pushed to the limit.  Trust me.  It'll make even me sound better.

So there you have it. I'm really a very shallow, transparent person who wants to make changes for the better for the right reasons too, but also for a very good wrong reason.  So hopefully next time you see me I'll be a little older and a little thinner. I still can't guarantee the wiser part. 

Spoiled Rotten?!...

Well... I did it.  Saturday I bought myself a new car, truck, SUV, whatever it is.  It's a Jeep Cherokee Loredo so I guess it's more like an SUV. It's the base model but it's still the nicest car I've ever had.  My old truck hasn't had air conditioning in years and now the radiator leaks so fast that I can't keep enough antifreeze in it to have heat either. It uses 2 quarts of oil every 500 or so miles, my power door locks have never worked, it pulls to the left no matter what the tire pressure is, and my custom shift knob won't stay tightened.  The shift knob is what put me over the edge.  My bike is great but when it's below 20 degrees out there my old bones and connective tissue reconstructions don't like it. 

To be honest I have a little problem getting something this big for myself and to a small degree I have to supress a small, gnawing, always-in-the-back-of-my-mind feeling of guilt. But you know what, the more I drive that thing around and listen to the stereo (with a subwoofer), play with the digital gadgets, and experiment with all the things it will do (even the things I haven't discovered yet), I think I can get past the guilt.  

Everything else around here is pretty normal. Saturday I'll fire up the old truck and make 4 or five trips to the landfill so I can clean out the garage to make room for the new one.  Those of you who have seen the garage understand that this is no exageration.  For those of you, and you know who you are, who have used our garage as your personal storage unit with no monthly fees and unlimited ablility to store your "valuable stuff", there is a remote possibility that about 5 or 10 years from now you may have a thought come to you something like, "I wonder whatever happened to my..." and then the light bulb will go on and you may think bad thoughts about me.  

Merry Christmas!!