The sound of Monday's marching feet

I was listening to a live version of Dave Matthew's Ants Marching a few days ago and it was another little wakeup call in life. I am a little commuter ant. I get up, shower, throw on clothes, help the kids get dressed, talk to J about what is happening during that particular day, leave and drive to the bus stop. I wait in line with all the other little worker ants, get on the bus and try not to think too seriously about what's going to happen during the workday. I get off the bus and walk a few blocks to school. The nice thing about my walk is that I get to walk through the downtown campus of St. Thomas University. They've got sweet smelling flowers and a fountain, which mellows me out(Yeah, I'm a guy and I like the flowers that I walk by in the morning, what's the big deal, huh?) I get in the building, climb up the stairs to the third floor, walk into our cramped office and say good morning to my coworkers, and get down to it for the day. Sometimes I like to hide in my cube for a little while before walk upstairs to the kitchen labs and see students.

This morning is one of those times I am hiding out in my little cube cave. I've slipped on my headphones and made my selection of music for the morning. I've chosen the soundtrack for the "Mambo Kings" to get my blood flowing. I'm knocking out a quick post just to get my brain functioning. I would like to try the coffee in the employee breakroom, but it has been known to rot out the bottom of styrofoam cups, so I'll pass and just let the music and the endorphines from writing get my heart pumping this morning.

I'm not feeling really responsible or too much like an adult this morning. I really want to feel like a kid. My birthday is coming up and it's another year older and I'm beginning to dread birthdays. I was reading the paper this weekend and I saw that a local sportscaster, who of course was younger than I, passed away from cancer. Yesterday, I also found out that a woman that I attended high school with had died as well. Hey, people get older and things happen. It's a part of the circle of life. I just feel like that the circle is inching up on me. I don't think about it a whole lot most days, but I found myself lying in bed last night thinking about who I'd like to invite to my funeral. I was going through that mental checklist of "yes, that person's cool...they can sit close to the front" or "No way am I inviting the butthead who gave me a wedgie in 8th grade to my farewell get together..." Yes folks that's what I do when I can't sleep. I think about that kind of stuff...why can't I just have simple fantasies about me being the last of the red hot lovers and all the women who can't get enough of old Samok Daddy? No...it's gotta be about whether there are enough goodbye salutes and toasts dedicated to me...or if they'll get someone to sing "I did it my way" at the funeral.

Enough ruminating today. It's time to get back to reality and be an advisor to the masses of excited culinary students in our fine institution. Hope you all have a fine day...