I hope this Thursday evening finds you well. Your favorite blogger is making it through the January grind and loving life. Let’s get started with the third Thursday Rundown of 2019…

Candy Land – This past Saturday, we attended the birthday party of Sloan’s friend, Stevie Blair, who turned 2. Sloan’s eyes lit up when she walked into the party venue and it was a Candy Land theme! Everything from the cake to the photo booth to the gingerbread cutouts fit just like it came out of the game. Even cotton candy was served! But the best part, in my opinion, was the candy table. You could make your own party favor bag by filling it with an assortment of candy. The candy table was also Sloan’s favorite part (besides hanging out with Stevie Blair) but for a more specific reason – it was sucker heaven! She could choose from rock suckers, classic lollipops, or Dums Dums, the latter being presented in sucker bouquets. Thanks to Leslie and Brooks for hosting a great party!

We had a great time at Stevie Blair’s Candy Land-themed birthday party.

General Sloan Update – Her hair continues to grow and she seems to get a little taller by the day, but Sloan still has that unique and sassy personality. She likes to be in control, whether that be over her parents or her friends, but she also is very nurturing as well. No other baby cuts up the dance floor quite like her and she continues to impress us with her talking. She currently enjoys playing with her kitchen set and coloring books. Eating is hit or miss but she never misses an opportunity to feed her Elmo doll Goldfish crackers and fruit snacks. Highlight of the day is still when we pick her up at daycare and she sprints to us and jumps in our arms.

We sure enjoy watching Sloan grow.

Forgetting God – I read an article today that addressed a subject I had never thought about before. The story helped raise awareness of people suffering from dementia who “forget” about God. Although one’s faith and remembrance in the Holy Father is usually the last to go, and sometimes it never does, it can be very painful for family members to watch their loved ones forget about what they based their lives on. One example in the story told about a dementia sufferer who completely denied being a Christian despite being one her entire life.

Bizarre Visit – I went down a rabbit hole on Twitter and ended up going to a web page titled 25 Historical Photos From the Past That Will Probably Give you Nightmares. I have seen crazier stuff before, but below is the photo that stood out to me the most. Apparently Santa Claus and two creepily masked individuals decided to spread some “get well” cheer at the local hospital. I am skeptical of people who claim to have clown phobias, but if you were the kid in this photo I can understand your fear being completely legitimate.

What a fright this must have been for the poor patient!

Archives – I am no stranger when it comes to writing blog posts on January 17. A year ago on this date, I revealed the 10 fears of Sloan (some she still has, some she doesn’t). Two years ago, I reviewed my experience at a liquid nitrogen ice cream shop. Even though the product was good, I have not been back since that first time. Finally, on January 17, 2016, I wrote about cheering for my favorite NFL team in the living room of my wife’s family. What’s the big deal you ask? They were rooting for the team the Seahawks were playing!

It was a big thrill for me when the Seattle Seahawks won Super Bowl XLVIII.

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Please have a nice Martin Luther King Jr. weekend and if you have an NFL team still in the playoffs, I wish you luck. Time to call it a night…I will catch up with all of you next week. Don’t Blink.

It happened no less than a thousand times during my childhood.

I would be with my dad at the grocery store, a football game, mall, or some other big public place when something would catch the corner of my eye. It might have been a boy my age confined to a wheelchair or a young adult with no arms or a teenager covered in burns. Once the person was comfortably out of earshot, my dad, every single time, would lean in and whisper we sure are lucky.

It became predictable. Whenever I saw someone with a genetic disease or severe handicap, I knew my dad would be in my ear. At the time, I didn’t really comprehend what my dad was trying to say. I felt bad for the person and perhaps a little uncomfortable too, but I didn’t think much beyond that.

Growing older and having a child will make you wiser. As an adult, I have a better grasp on what my dad was trying to convey. As a kid, you don’t realize how devastating any type of physical setback, especially the ones that greatly limit and scar the body, can have on a person. But as the years go by and the realities of this world start to set in, you realize that being able to live a life with no major physical limitations or scars is perhaps one of the best gifts of all; a gift that not everyone is given.

I have lived my life with no limitations. As a kid I was able to play sports, ride my bike, and run around at the park. As an adult I can exercise when I want, play with my daughter at full blast, and perform everyday tasks without assistance.

But I lucked out much more than just on a personal level. Sidney and Sloan are healthy too. We live unobstructed lives when millions of people don’t. How do we recognize this good fortune? Well, thanking God is the best way. But I think we need to take time each day to think about those who are living with awful diseases and genetic conditions. We need to feel empathy and we need to help them when we can. Even though I would physically see people less fortunate than me growing up, my dad tried to make me grasp it on a deeper level. With him no longer right over my shoulder, I am left to do that deeper level thinking on my own. Perhaps I can encourage my daughter to do the same as she gets older. Sloan, we sure are lucky. Don’t Blink.

Last week, I wrote about my favorite beverages. Tonight, I have decided to switch gears and talk about the beverages I don’t like. Settle down, I am writing about drinks I hate that many other people enjoy. That means no-brainers like pickle juice and toilet water won’t be on the list. Let’s get this over with…

Coffee – I believe I have stated this fact in the past, but I have never downed an entire cup of coffee in my life. Despite growing up in a java hotbed (Washington state) and having two parents who drank coffee as if it came from the fountain of youth, I never took a liking to it. Even as I grew older and learned about its ability to help people stay awake, I never budged. When my wife orders her signature white chocolate mochas, every now and then I will take a sip, but that is the extent of my coffee drinking.

Sweet Tea – The drink of the South is sweet tea and that is probably the only thing that I haven’t embraced about this region (well, I guess you can lump collared greens in there too). Perhaps sweet tea never stood much of a chance with me because I never enjoyed regular tea nor sweet tea’s western cousin, iced tea. The only time I drink sweet tea is when I mistake it for Pepsi. Oh yeah, the cup of sugar that comes with each sip is just a bit overwhelming for my taste buds.

Hard Alcohol – No thank you, I stay away from this stuff. It just isn’t the high alcohol content that I am weary of, either. I can’t stand the actual taste. I don’t need a Jack and Coke, I just need a Coke. Why poison something so good with something that tastes so bad? I don’t trust liquor and waking up with a painful hangover and fuzzy moments from the night before just doesn’t appeal to me. I do have to be honest; if there is a hard alcohol that I will tolerate every now and then, it is vodka. Other than that, I just assume pour it down the drain.

Wine – After a long week, I never yearn to plop on the couch, drape myself in a blanket, turn on “Friends,” and drink wine. Not that I have anything against a warm blanket or the classic sitcom, I just don’t like wine. I know people can describe the taste of any given wine with flowery language and numerous words, but I can describe my opinion of all wines with just one word: nasty. Sorry, not sorry. I find wine too complicated for a simple dude like myself. When it comes to it, I don’t care for the taste nor the way it feels going down my throat. I like my drinks to be refreshing and wine is definitely not a beverage you drink to satisfy your thirst. Thank you, next.

The only wine I drink is Cheerwine.

Apple Cider – For someone who loves apple juice, I sure detest apple cider. And, to be honest, I don’t think it is that big of a contradiction. Apple juice is pure and easy to drink (dang, does that sound like a beer commercial?). On the other hand, apple cider is spicy and borderline dangerous to drink. When I consume something, I don’t need pinches of kitchen cabinet ingredients. Apple cider is just too fancy for me – I don’t need cinnamon, nutmeg, or anything else to take away from the fresh apple taste. Even more discouraging is the temperature that cider is served at. Every time I have had it, my tongue ends up scorched, no matter how small the straw is and no matter how long I wait to take a drink. Apple cider is just no fun.

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That’s what you get for tonight’s post. Could you imagine if you mixed all of these in a Gatorade bottle and made me chug it? I don’t think I could ever forgive you. Don’t Blink.

A struggle I had as a young kid was writing legibly. My handwriting was downright sloppy. Although you might think proper technique can be taught, my teachers, bless their hearts, couldn’t solve my issue. At the point of frustration of not being able to get through to me, my 3rd grade teacher wanted to see if someone else could – she called my dad.

Throughout most of that school year, I spent lots of late nights (meaning until around 8 p.m.) practicing my penmanship with my dad. My teacher sent home worksheets and my dad would go through them with me every evening before I went to bed. I remember those thin pages of the workbook so vividly with the guiding lines and uninspired illustrations. I basically had to copy sentences and it sure got old. My patience would wane and sometimes I would purposely mess up, much to my dad’s chagrin.

But we got through it and made progress. My dad is a self-taught calligrapher with a very elegant writing style and if he couldn’t pass his talent on genetically, he was going to do it through dedicated father-son instruction on the kitchen table. Although my handwriting still wasn’t good at the end of our sessions, it definitely improved.

I still struggled with my penmanship throughout the latter grades of elementary school. However, once middle school started, I made some strides. I started to keep a journal and my handwriting became more important to me. Each night when I opened it up, I took my time making sure that my writing was clear and that it fit neatly within the narrow lines. My penmanship changed from large and messy to small and neat(ish).

Almost 20 years since middle school, I still journal. I feel like this activity has helped keep my handwriting legible. My wife admits that I have pretty handwriting…for a guy. The other day though, I was thinking, so what?!

We live in a digital world that has dramatically devalued the need to physically write with one’s hand. Letters are sent through email, forms are filled out on Adobe Acrobat, and signatures are expressed through facial recognition software. Who the hell needs a pen anymore?

I find it a little ironic. A lot of people make a big deal about the decline of cursive. They hate that it is being phased out of America’s schools. But hello, don’t focus too hard on the lack of enthusiasm for cursive because handwriting in general is on its way out.

Do I think this is a bad thing? In my brief opinion, yes. I think when we physically write something out, it causes us to think more about what we are expressing. Each word is labor intensive and we are making our point by using something that is as unique as fingerprints – our handwriting style.

So much personality is jammed into our handwriting that to sacrifice it for typed text is a huge loss. Sure, in some cases it might lessen confusion and eliminate errors due to ambiguity, but for the most part I find it to be a shame.

How often do you physically write with your hand per day? If the answer is “very little,” I suggest finding excuses to do so. Your penmanship, whether good or bad, is part of who you are. Don’t Blink.

I recently read a letter from someone inquiring about the necessity of accepting social invitations when it conflicts with one’s daily routine. This person stated that she lives her life according to a set schedule (wakes up, goes to work, makes dinner, plays with her dog) and is quite content with it. She says she is put in a tough spot when co-workers ask her to meet for a drink after work or participate in another activity that would make her deviate from her predictable agenda.

The dilemma: Should this person accept the popular “do you” mantra or shuffle her schedule to be social?

I sympathize with this individual as I have craved routine since I was young. I think living a structured life is productive. I mean, what is wrong with going into each day with an established plan?

Well, as someone who continues to learn about life on a frequent basis, I have evolved my thinking to believe that we as humans can sometimes be too rigid. Perhaps we go overboard trying to compartmentalize the 24 hours we are gifted with each day.

Just an example: In order to have a good day, I made it a strict requirement that I needed to make my early morning gym session. If I didn’t exercise, it would eat at me throughout the day. I would feel like a slacker and sense strength leaving my body.

I have confined myself to other aspects of a set daily schedule as well. Devoting time in the evening to Don’t Blink and making sure we watched Jeopardy at 7:30 p.m. seemed key to the perfect day.

Over the past few years, I have realized that missing a morning at the gym won’t make me destined for “My 600-lb Life.” I also know that I can do the bulk of my Don’t Blink work on Sunday and that DVR does wonders for recording Jeopardy. Although having a kid made me realize that having a set schedule isn’t just unpractical – it is impossible – it also made me realize the importance of embracing social events as well.

I have always enjoyed doing fun things with friends and co-workers, but it wasn’t uncommon for me to pass on certain events if it meant seriously blowing up my routine. I thought I was being dedicated, but perhaps I was just being safe?

Look, there are still times when siding with routine is going to be your best bet. No need to attend every single holiday party you are invited to or go to a spontaneous happy hour on a Monday night. But, after living on this earth for three decades, I think we can choose fun over routine a little more than some of us “serious types” typically do. When you look back on your life, memories made with friends will probably shine brighter than the hour your spent in front of the TV or the computer. Don’t Blink.