I often share overly personal information about my family on Mostly Teachable, but neglect to share some of the honest to goodness details of my happy life here in the wilds of Southern Michigan. This year I plan to post my photo collection from each Week That Was. To kick off 2013, I thought I’d go back into my vault and share some of what turned out be a really nice 2012. Here are some of the pictures from the last 12 months:
I recently suffered a midlife crisis and decided to become an accountant. This was no light decision. After wrestling with the questions that I suspect keep many middle-aged men up at night, I decided to throw my cozy, safe family life away and roll the dice on the seedy world of bookkeeping. The last few weeks before making the big leap were pure torture. There are big issues at stake. For starters, I wondered how I’d disrupt my routine of entering accounts payable data and dive headfirst into the unknown jungle of profit and loss statements, balance sheets and recurring fixed expenses. Sexy stuff.
During my line cooking days, one of the things that my fellow galley slaves and I would do for fun was to try and decide if certain restaurant patrons were overcompensating in their efforts to keep up with the effects of age. In other words, we stood out back on our breaks and laughed at male pattern haplessness. There was a sort of grudging acknowledgment given to the men who’d conquered time and circumstance. The guys who’d pull up in simple, classic sports cars accompanied by classically simple-minded women. We gave them the nod. No words were necessary. They’d earned silence. The men we disrespected loudly (and often) tended to show up in snazzy Miatas with their kids’ middle school algebra teachers in tow. I never really thought it was a graceful sign of having lived well to grow a greasy gray pony tail and engage in temporary relationships. This holds no appeal to me. No, I’ve felt the call of mathematics, the urge to go and calculate the hell out of something. The male inadequacy industry may tell me that I won’t be happy until I drive an over-sized pick-up truck and make stupid faces at women while drinking overpriced beer. So be it. I’ll have my fun between the spreadsheets.