Preamble: You know the times your SO just flat out knocks your socks
off? This morning B has been jumping when the prox sensors go off for
the front door. I reassured her the first time it had to be the
squirrels. When she jumped the second time she hollered, "UPS
truck". Sure enough, there is a box on the shelf, on the porch.
When she opens it there are the fixin's for 4 Lobster Rolls, butter
included. B declares, "It's what's for dinner." And punctuates it,
"Tonight!"
So there is that...
Lists of Lists
I keep them. I know that others do as well. I forget where I keep
them. Knowing that I kept them and then not being able to find them
becomes a nagging itch. Everywhere I look I am always on the lookout.
Until I stumble across The List while long on the search for something
now completely pointless.
The universe is in motion, gods are smiling, while I wither beneath
the simplicity and elegance of The List. Now that I have it what am I
going to do with it? The.light.went.on! The List, which I thought
lost and searched for constantly, is made up of my goals.
As Titles The List suggests some final state; oh, he's a Futurist.
When in fact, The List, as a set of goals or objectives, is an
over-lapping set of evolving and growing skill sets. Each becomes a
discipline to study and practice. Gods are now laughing.
The List
Futurist
Renaissant
Raconteur
Confidant
Concierge
