2017: Looking forward to better days

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I’m so fond of my attorney I spent a good bit of 2016 contemplating various crimes just so I could enjoy more confidential time with him.

First, I wanted to kill Wendy, the malignantly vapid real estate agent who botched the sale of my Mom’s South Hills condo.

The story of my involvement with Wendy, the months of work we did to fix the place up to her dictates, and the money her bungling — either deliberate or through native stupidity — cost my Mom is a story too epic for jiffy blog disposal.

No, that story will be relived in full detail when I write a book about who all’s in hell and cast Wendy as Satan’s wife.

And if Wendy is Mrs. Satan then that means even for Satan hell will be hell.

But my attorney said a long murder trial — he was confident of my acquittal — would cut into our precious bar time so he counseled against killing Wendy.

He offered a judicious alternative.

 Kill her reputation!

I sent what I hope was a devastatingly thorough expose of her incompetence to the building manager at Virginia Mansions on Greentree Road. This woman loves my mother, is fond of me and will likely weigh my opinion before ever recommending Wendy of Keller Williams Realty ever again.

So I lost a whole summer with my family doing work with my friend Mark at Mom’s old place. The only good thing to come out of it was I got to spend a whole summer doing work with Mark at Mom’s old place (see Mark link).

Beating up on 2016 seems to be very popular this week. I get it. I had intended to headline this post: “Good riddance, 2016: Worst Year Ever!”

It’s true. It really sucked. There was the whole Mom thing, persistent money shortfalls and anticipated career breakthroughs were delayed.

And, damn, Arnold Palmer was proven to be mortal. Didn’t see that coming.

Figures, too, 2016 was a damn leap year so we had to endure a whole extra day of awful.

So, boo, 2016! Boo! Boo! Boooo!

But I always seek perspective and understand what sucks for me is likely someone else’s idea of their greatest year ever, particularly if that hypothetical is a blogger in, say, Aleppo.

In some ways, 2016 was a fantastic year. My Tin Lizzy office became a popular party station, I earned effusive cheers for my speaking engagements in places as distant as Nebraska, and I was elated by the euphoric reaction to my new book.

My wife still loves, my kids still love me and the stupid dog doesn’t pee on my foot with the regularity he once did. I have so many good friends to brighten even the darkest days.

I imagine you can check most of those boxes, too.

That’s a pretty good year.

And no matter how you look at it, you have to give 2016 this much.

It only has two days left! Even the very worst years succumb to term limits.

Because of that, I’ve decided to treat the New Year like the Earth birthday it actually is.

I do this so I can use a nifty line I’ve until now reserved for birthdays of Facebook friends.

I’ve had friends ask me if it’s an original or if I thieved it from Hallmark.

They should know me better than that. I’d rob banks before I’d plagiarize another writer.

And if 2017 doesn’t yield better results, felonious larceny will become a career option.

The line …

“Happy Birthday, Planet Earth! May tomorrow be the first day of your best year yet!”

It applies as optimistically to a 4 year old as it does to one who’s turning 2,017.

The “yet” is key. It hints at even better years to come.

I hope that’s what’s in store for you, me, and the whole planet.

We’re all older, savvier and now know it’s wise to avoid Wendy.

So Happy New Year!

Welcome 2017!

As for 2016, you can take a flying leap year.

Related …

Singing a song of praise for Mark Slagle

Moving Mom to Latrobe: the big picture

My day in court

A prisoner of the past says Happy New Year!

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You can tell just by peeking in my checkbook I’m really looking forward to 2016.

As is my custom, this is the week I designate our 9 year old to begin writing “16” after all the 20s on the dateline of each check.

I do this because I’m one of those boneheads who’d use the old year on checks clear up through May before I’d finally stopped living in the fiscal past.

But I am looking forward to 2016.

Saying that makes me seem like a rosy optimist and, yeah, I am.

But I’m enough of a dour realist to stipulate I do so because I have no choice.

I can’t stop time even if I wanted to.

Would I stop it right now if I could? This week?

It’s been a very good week. We had a fantastic Christmas. It’s a joy to have two loving daughters around this time of year. And Val does so much to make everything special.

But, of course, I’m broke and believe 2016 will be the year that changes all that for the better, I hope. So I’m itching for happy results the new calendar is sure to bring.

That almost never happens, but I’m convinced one day it will.

Maybe part of my problem is that according to my calendar it’s still 2013.

That was the last year I’ll ever buy another calendar.

I used to put a lot of thought into buying the current calendar. I’d wait a few weeks for the prices to drop — you can get a $13.95 calendar for just $5 in February if you’re not picky about your January dates.

I’d get snazzy golf ones, ones of lighthouses and once in a while one that was a tasteful homage to Moe, Larry and Curly.

That all stopped in 2012 when my daughters for Christmas gave me a “Girl’s Coloring Book 2013 Calendar!” The cover promises “A fun new picture to color every month!”

Why it was restricted to girls, I don’t know. It seems unnecessarily sexist, especially in these days when people are more sensitive about those sorts of things.

I’m sure a lot of boys like coloring pictures of rainbows, flowers and unicorns, too.

Anyway, the girls colored all over the thing and stood there while I gushed about the result.

What could be more precious?

So I’ll keep it forever. I just print out the new month and tape it over the lower half date part so I don’t get confused.

Now part of me will be forever stuck in 2013.

A lot of bad things happened that year.

It was the year of the Boston Marathon bombing, Edward Snowden, the death of Nelson Mandela and the year our Catholic friends had to adjust to life under not one, but two living popes.

North Korea was up to no good, George Zimmerman was acquitted of killing Trayvon Martin, partisans in Syria decided it was time to commence to killing, and in Washington there again was gridlock galore.

But the Pirates made the playoffs for the first time in 20 years, we took the kids to Disney, I scored an invite to golf at Oakmont and immensely enjoyed the final season of “Breaking Bad.” And it was in 2013 I got my picture taken with Playboy Playmate of the Year Clair Sinclair.

I wonder if she still has her copy.

Too numerous to note are all the times I laughed with friends, hugged my family, experienced contentment, enjoyed a good book, savored a fine meal, and felt grateful that so many of you read my blog.

I contend it’s not surprising bad things happen to us.

What is surprising is how much joy we can wring out of even the worst of times.

So bring on 2016. Let us revel in the possibilities the future may bring.

Sure, the news is full of dire prophets who contend it will be a terrible year.

So what?

If our happy history proves anything it is that we’re all are capable of having really great times even during bad years.

Bring it on.

Happy New Year!

Related . . .

Enjoying a good long jump with Playboy Playmate Claire Sinclair

Airborne over Disney

Oh, and one more thing 2011

I hope I don’t die while the Pirates are winning and I hope the Pirates never lose

Read The Caffeinated Globe for a happy 2010!

The suggestion struck me as one of those backroom horsetrader deals used to secure the trillion dollar health care reform bill. I briefly wondered about the ethics of it all.

But since only potential blog readers, not taxpayer billions, were at stake and because I’ve never been even the slightest bit ethical I quickly agreed.

Here’s what happened: Earlier this week the 48th and 49th blog readers decided on their own volition to become “followers” of my home blog, www.EightDaysToAmish.com.

Followers are the currency of the blog realm. The logic is that agents and publishers will be interested in working with bloggers who have large followings on the sensible belief that they have a built-in audience to generate sales.

So everyone of us who engages in the pointless exercise of blogging does a little jig every time some friend or stranger posts their microscopic picture in the sidebar and testifies they keep up with what’s being written there.

Forty-nine is still a humble little number, but I find it flattering that it’s greater than one. Building something from scratch like a feisty little readership has been great fun and I’m jazzed by all the friendly feedback I get.

So when nos. 48 and 49 signed up, I did what I always do: I tracked down their e-mail addresses and sent them thanks for the giddy little lift they’d given me. I told them I’d try and keep the blog fresh and lively and asked them to recommend the blog to like-minded friends.

That’s when follower no. 48 replied with a suggestion.

She’s the evocatively named January Asia and is the co-proprietor with Steven Hui of the delicious food & beverage/travel/fun blog, The Caffeinated Globe. I encourage you to check it out. A recent post features an appetizing discourse on how to improve your breakfast eggs (I’m eager to try horse radish, ketchup and black pepper).

Here’s the quid pro quo January proposed:

“I will e-mail a message to 6 persons. In the message, I will introduce your site and your blog. And I will also include one specific post title & URL; that way the e-mail receivers will pay full attention to reading your blog.”

(Actually, she did much more than that. I’m feeling compelled to class up the joint because of her lavish recommendation).

She asked me to return the courtesy, which I’m happy to do. The site she and Steven have put together is based in Thailand and it’s great. I hope I can do even a little bit to bring it some worthy attention.

Today is the first day of a new decade. It’s drizzling a miserable mix of snow and rain. The western Pennsylvania forecast shows five days of snow and highs that do not exceed 24 degrees.

But something about this most binary 01.01.10 date feels like a metaphorical spring. We’ve turned the page on what by every measure was a really awful decade of war, despair and deprivation.

I’m basically starting over. Most of my savings is wiped out. I haven’t had a job or a steady paycheck in three years. I’m battered black and blue by rejection and raft after raft of dashed hopes.

In many regards, I’m like the country I love. Right now, we’re both a mess.

Yet, we persevere with cheerful hearts and hopeful eyes on the horizon.

I remain steadfast in my belief that better days are on the way.

You’ve probably vowed as part of some New Year’s resolution to do something to help your fellow man. Good for you.

There’s people that need it so much more than me. I’m not homeless (yet), I’m not depressed (much), and I’m utterly unworthy of any altruistic consideration (always).

But if you’re interested in helping brighten the day of one fellow man, here’s what you can do. It’s easy. Just put your little picture up and join my randy band of followers. Refer the blog to friends and ask them to do the same.

Some publisher might see it and become convinced one of my book projects is worth a contractual salute. You’ll all be A-list when the party invitations go forth.

Then visit the Caffeinated Globe and do the same. It’s a fun read and if one of your resolutions is to help people who help people, then you should be happy to help my new friend January.

Then for profane giggles go visit Shit My Dad Says. It’s the most consistently funny thing I’ve ever seen on the web.

Don’t feel compelled to sign up as a follower. The guy's already got, by last count, 1,011,713 of them. He’s also got a major book deal and a CBS pilot based on his blog in the works.

Know what that means to me?

Forty-nine down and only 1,011,664 to go!