I maintain the illusion of control through the use of daily checklists

As much as I like to think of myself as someone who handles ambiguity well, I find my left brain demanding structure, order and a general feeling that "I've got this," even when I don't, in fact, "got this," and even if I don't quite know what "this" even is at any given time.

Thus, I play this game with myself whereby I make to-do lists. Every day of my life, virtually without exception, I have a to-do list. Sometimes I have two to-do lists: one for home and one for work. And as I tackle individual tasks, I check them off the list.

If you are a list maker, I don't need to tell you the immense satisfaction (it's almost a rush, really) of checking things off the list. When you get to the end of the day and every box is ticked off, you are master of your universe, king/queen of your domain.

Or at least that's what I tell myself. In reality, for every one thing I check off, a part of me knows there are five other things I should be doing that don't fit comfortably on a list.

"Love wife," for instance. I don't put that on the list because, you know, it's just something you do, in ways both tangible and intangible.

"Enjoy nature." It would feel silly putting that on the list and then saying to myself, "From 12:35 to 12:40, I'm going to stand in our backyard and enjoy nature."

The truly meaningful things in life are not things you "complete." You can't write them next to a checkbox and then "do" them in a way that suggests you're ever finished.

I know this to be true. Yet I don't want it to be true because it causes two things to happen, neither of which is particularly enjoyable:

(A) I start to think my insignificant to-do's are just a way to keep from making the effort to really live.

(B) I take less pleasure in those checkmarks that usually give me so much satisfaction.

Yes, eventually the grass needs to be cut, the laundry needs to get done, and the oil needs to be changed. Those things aren't going away, and part of being a responsible adult is ensuring they're taken care of. But they're not a substitute for "living," however you define it.

Which brings me to the illustration at the top of this post from one of the popular Frog and Toad children's books. In this particular story, Toad makes a list of everything he wants to do that day, including "wake up" and "go to sleep."

At one point, a strong wind comes by and Toad's list blows away. "Help!" he cries, "my list is blowing away! What will I do without my list?"

Frog suggests they run and catch the list, but Toad points out he cannot do that because "running after my list is not one of the things that I wrote on my list of things to do."

One time this story was brought up in our family text chat to point out how much like Toad I am and to (gently) make fun of me. I laughed right along with everyone else because, let's face it, I am him.

But I get it, Toad. Oh boy, do I get it. Without the list, there is paralysis. It's laughable, I know, but it's also true.

I could probably use a Frog in my life, though I'm not sure whether I would need him to chase after my list or show me I don't need the list in the first place.

Maybe both.

After 13 years on Facebook, I guess I'll stick around

There is a certain cool factor these days to walking away from Facebook. People give any number of reasons for why they dislike the platform, from censorship and wonky algorithms to privacy concerns and the very existence of Mark Zuckerberg.

There is merit to each of these. Facebook is not without its (deep) flaws.

When I joined in 2009, it was at the suggestion of my wife. As I recall, she said something like, "You would know a lot of people there, and it's interesting to see what everyone posts."

And she was right, I did (know a lot of people on Facebook) and it is (interesting to see what people post).

Every morning I use the Timehop app to look back on the things I've published on various social media sites over the last decade-plus. It cracks me up when I see my early Facebook posts from 2009, because they all looked like this:

"...is boarding a plane for Wichita, Kansas."

Not "I'm now boarding a plane" or "I'm heading to Wichita." Everything I wrote during my first month or two on Facebook followed the same format: ellipsis-verb-object.

As I recall, that was because the prompt in the Facebook posting box in those days was something like, "What are you doing right now?" I somehow assumed it would automatically post my name, and that all I had to do was provide the rest of the sentence.

I was naïve. I still am, but I was particularly Facebook-naïve. By the end of 2009, Facebook had changed its prompt to "What's on your mind?" I believe it stayed that way for many years until recently, when they started using variations of "How's it going?" and "How are you feeling?"

Anyway, I've been a regular FB user for 13 years and I don't see myself abandoning it any time soon. My 1,800 connections include far-flung family, friends and former co-workers, many of whom I would almost never hear from if it weren't for the 'Book. That's just a fact.

I'm also endlessly interested in people's opinions on various topics pertaining to religion, sports and politics. I almost never engage in debates on any of these subjects (I've found that most people are going to believe what they want to believe, even if it's demonstrably untrue), so I end up being more of a lurker than a participant.

And honestly? I genuinely want to see pictures of that new puppy you brought home. And your kids. And your vacation. And even what you're having for dinner.

Even if I don't comment – even if I don't throw a "like" your way – please know I'm reading and looking. Even if it's an artificially idealized version of your life, I still want to see what you're up to and generally know how you're doing.

There are other ways of achieving this, I understand, but Facebook is fun and efficient. And I don't find it to be nearly as impersonal as many others do.

You also can't beat the price, which remains $0.00 a month. I don't think I would be willing to pay for the privilege of seeing someone's uninformed opinion that, for example, the Cleveland Guardians should have started Shane Bieber over Aaron Civale in Game 5 of the American League Division Series (because it wouldn't have made a difference...I know I'm right about that despite any factual evidence to the contrary, which makes me the perfect Facebook user.)

It's that time of year when I have to deal with skunks on my early-morning walks

I'm out power walking most mornings these days. I usually hit the road by 6am and follow a 2.3-mile loop around Miller and West Miller avenues.

It's a beautiful time for morning walks, too, given the conditions. I love 50 degrees and dry, as it often is in Northeast Ohio in early October.

The flip side is that this is also the time when the skunks come out.

I don't know why, but while I never see a skunk in my neighborhood over the summer, they're suddenly out in full force every morning come, say, mid-September. For the next couple of months, there will be more mornings when I see a skunk than mornings I don't.

I assume they're foraging for food. I don't begrudge them that.

But I'm still terrified of them.

I know, I know, they eat insects and small rodents that can wreak havoc. And they're valuable members of the food chain and it's the Circle of Life and blah blah blah.

None of that changes the intrinsic evil of the skunk.

Many of the skunks seem to congregate on the West Miller part of my walk. Once I set foot on that street, I tense up and start scanning the sides of the road for the tell-tale white stripe and low-to-the-ground ambling of Mephitis mephitis.

It's dark when I walk, so there have been times when I've come within 10 feet of a skunk before we both realize the other is there.

I stop in my tracks, while he/she lifts his/her head and raises his/her tail.

Ten feet, you see, is the range a skunk can spray. I back away from the encounter much faster than I walk into it, believe me.

My biggest fear is being right on top of a skunk before I know it's there and getting blasted.

One time, back in my running days, I was cruising down Euclid Avenue at 5:30 in the morning on garbage day, which meant everyone's trash cans were set out on the sidewalk, just a foot or two from where I was running. A skunk looking for breakfast came out from between two cans just as I passed by and my foot grazed his head.

I saw him at the last possible second and took off sprinting. When I came back through that area 15 minutes later on the return part of my loop, the smell of skunk spray was intense. He had reacted to our surprise encounter with the best defense nature had given him.

So anyway, I've taken to changing my walking route most October mornings, though that doesn't guarantee skunk-free status. They can be anywhere this time of year (and it doesn't help that many of the streets in my neighborhood have minimal street lighting and/or street lights timed to turn off while it's still dark).

"Walk later in the day, then," you might say. That would help, but my schedule doesn't usually allow for it. I work all day, and evenings are almost always taken up with some sort of activity. Early morning is my exercise window, so I've got to take advantage of it.

I'm not at all a fan of treadmills – though I'll use them in a hotel when I'm traveling – so I don't consider that an option.

The only thing I can do is stay alert and pray Terry will let me back into the house should I ever end up on the unfortunate end of a skunk spraying attack.

I would rather wear a Pittsburgh Steelers jersey than have that happen. And believe me...that's saying something.

(NOTE: It occurred to me after I wrote this that, while skunks can be a nuisance for walkers and runners, I still don't have to deal with the fear of being assaulted by another human being as my female walking and running counterparts do. They have to live with (and prepare for) that possibility every day, while the chances of it happening to me are much, much lower. They undoubtedly have it worse. I'll take the possibility of a skunk encounter any day over that.)

Sometimes in life you have to do crazy things...and sometimes you have to think twice

When I earned my master's degree from West Virginia University two years ago, I made a solemn vow that I would never again be a college student.

While I am immensely proud of my M.S. in Integrated Marketing Communications, it was a struggle to get there. Anyone who has ever worked full time while going to graduate school and trying to maintain some semblance of a life will tell you it's a challenging and exhausting business.

So imagine my surprise when I recently found myself on the phone with an admissions representative from the University of Kansas inquiring about their online MBA program. 

And when I came this close to applying.

It has only been 27 months since I finished my capstone project at West Virginia and collapsed in a tired and emotionally drained heap. Granted, some of those drained emotions stemmed from losing my mother and mother-in-law in a span of 18 days that summer of 2020, but school still had an awful lot to do with it.

My reasons for considering an MBA as I near the ripe old age of 53 were many, including:

• I love learning. I really do. As physically and mentally draining as an MBA program would be, I embrace the thought of becoming more well-versed in finance, accounting, statistics, management, ethics, etc.
  
  
• I've never been formally trained in business. My undergraduate degree was in English and History, and I really only entered the world of corporate/business communications in 1999. I've learned a lot since then, but an advanced business education would likely do wonders for me professionally.
  
  
• I'm reading a book by my favorite health expert, Dr. Mike Roizen of The Cleveland Clinic, called "The Great Age Reboot." The book's premise is that we are right on the verge of incredible medical breakthroughs that are likely to extend our lives significantly, i.e., in many cases well into our 100s.

To that last point, I've always hoped I would live a relatively healthy 85-90 years then fade away quickly and quietly. And that may end up being the case. But given recent advances in gene therapy and treatment of what were formerly fatal chronic diseases, there's a possibility I'm only halfway through my time on this mortal coil. Which means I may need 30 or more years' worth of savings once I retire. Which in turn means I may need to work longer than I realize.

And if I have to work into my 70s, I'm going to need all of the knowledge and professional development I can get. Thus the notion of getting a second master's degree in the form of an MBA.

Materion Corporation, my employer, has a generous tuition reimbursement benefit. And Kansas' online MBA program is not only highly rated but also highly convenient with its asynchronous classes, eight-week terms and willingness to allow students to take semesters off.

I could probably do the whole thing in about 3 1/2 years.

But ultimately I chose against it. I'm still relatively new in my job, and while it has been an absolute dream so far, there's a lot of mental effort that goes into doing it well. And my side hustle of sports PA announcing – which is more of a hobby than a "side hustle," really – gets more time consuming with each passing year.

Then there's the matter of spending time with my wife of 30 years. Not so long ago, we were a household of seven people, with all of the attendant chaos and effort. Now it's just Terry, our youngest child Jack, and me. And in a few years, it will just be Terry and me.

I hitched my wagon to the Terry Train decades ago, and it remains the best decision I ever made. It's a connection that demands time and attention, both of which would likely suffer if I pursued that MBA, even if only for a few years.

All of which is to say I'm fine with the life I'm living right now, thank you very much. I can always read books, attend webinars and pursue other avenues to gain business knowledge.

Over the years I have jumped feet first into a wide range of personal and professional experiences, and I don't regret any of them. Sometimes we benefit most from saying "yes" to the seemingly improbable, or even the impossible.

But other times we have to consider the risk-benefit ratio and whether it's worth getting into something over our heads. In this case, I've decided the status quo is best, and it's a decision I imagine will be permanent when it comes to getting an MBA.

Of course, two years ago I thought my heartfelt "never again" in regard to grad school was also permanent, so who knows?

Sometimes crazy is good. And sometimes crazy is...well, crazy.