An apology…of sorts

So, the other day I wrote a blog about playing “farm ball” (or “barn ball” as was also pointed out). And looking back on it, it sounded almost like a little bit of complaining. And I really don’t like that, so I’m going to start by saying, “I’m sorry.”

Here’s the scoop: I’m busy. But I’m busy because I want to be busy. I could easily quit with the extra stuff, drop a few boards, scratch a few projects and eliminate a hobby or two. But I won’t. Not yet.

 

I couldn't imagine not taking the opportunities that are presented to me, like meeting Dr. Bill Danforth, Chairman of the Board of Trustees for the Donald Danforth Plant Science Center.

I couldn’t imagine not taking the opportunities that are presented to me, like meeting Dr. Bill Danforth, Chairman of the Board of Trustees for the Donald Danforth Plant Science Center.

 

Why? Because the world isn’t run by people who have time to do all the things that need to be done, the world is run by people who take the time to do all the things that need to be done.

And a little secret, since we’re such good friends…I thrive on it.

Give me two weeks to finish a project, and I’ll work on it. I’ll do a little here and there, and eventually it will take shape. Give me 10 minutes and it will be a masterpiece. Well, at least as close as I can get it. It’s as if my body shuts down, my mind takes over and I’m just as surprised as the next guy as to what is on the screen. Seriously.

For example, I write for several papers and publications. Since some of them have the same general readership, I write different articles, so no one gets bored with what I’m writing. Sometimes I spend 2-3 hours per article – which actually should tell me that I need to scrap it. The stuff that people like? The words that ring the most true? Those are the articles that take me less than 10 minutes to put together.

I don’t get it. I’m sure there’s some psycho-analysis that could be done. Perhaps it’s due to the cold, harsh winters in the great north…or spending too many hours ice fishing…or too many shells through my .270…or one too many concussions during softball. Whatever it is, I don’t take it for granted. It helps me immensely.

Yes, I’m busy. No, I’m not complaining. Yes, it’s stressful. No, I don’t need an intervention…yet. But I thank you for noticing, for expressing concern and for asking if you can help out. If there is anything that last weekend’s blizzard taught me, it’s the fact that it’s better to be too busy, than suddenly finding yourself with nothing to do.

Lesson learned. No more complaining. I promise.