4th Friday

4th FRIDAY FLYER_11_28_14_Hogan_MyersThis is an announcement aimed at the eight other people who live on the Olympic Peninsula:

If you are tired of elk hunting or smoking salmon, you might want to venture out of your hidey holes Friday to enjoy an evening of writers reading their writings aloud in Sequim. And, well looky there: that’s me!

I’ll be one of two featured presenters (I will be tarred and feathered if I go a nanosecond over ten minutes which might be a lot more entertaining than my reading).

At the moment I’m trying to figure what to read aloud to the masses. Something sad … wistful … funny … terrifying … infuriating. And that’s all in the same ten minutes.

The really fun part is the open mic program when anyone can read anything aloud. Well, with the obvious exclusions. You never know when Forks might even send a vampire to read a verse on being misunderstood.

It’s the Friday after Thanksgiving at the Rainshadow Coffee Bar, 157 W. Cedar St. at 6:30. Everyone will have had their fill of football, bargains and tryptophan. It’s a great escape from Duck Dynasty, the evening’s biggest competition.

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I learned early on this valuable business tip: a decision is not as important as the ability to make it. I started to act fast. Bosses are happy when it looks like their staffs are marching in lock step even if the direction of the march may be questionable. They thought of me as a leader. I got promoted.

A benefit of aging is that I rarely make a decision anymore between Door #1 or Door #2. The day I retired I became an evolutionary throwback just letting the world go by. You can choose the restaurant. You can choose which game to watch. You can choose. I simply and truly don’t care. I’ll go along and be happy assuming none of the options involves bungee cords.

What a relief this is! Think of the brain share freed when you don’t have to schedule or choose or resolve or settle on. I can pick mental wildflowers while others gnash their teeth. Honestly, I think this laying-down-of-the-reins is why people think retirees are no longer mentally fit. But we truly don’t dither. We simply choose to unwind from the unimportant. In the process we drive our friends and family to distraction.

Of course, BIG decisions are still important to me. I’m not a nincompoop. Where to live, whom to trust. Big stuff. Sure. But deciding whether my jeans are the right length or his shirt is the right color or my donation is to Goodwill or Sally’s or St. Vinnie? Nope. It’s all good. What a relief to let the minutia go.

It will get dealt with somehow. But I will no longer be the dealer. And that’s a big decision to have made.

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