The Book of Even More Awesome (26 page)

So, people, come on. Let's all hold hands here today and remember the many great tips we've enjoyed over the years.

Smile at all those delicious first bites and first sips that surprised your tongue and teased your taste buds with hints of what's to come.

Love tips, love bites, love tips, love life.

AWESOME!

Kids cruise on wobbly bikes,
toddlers race on tipsy trikes
, and you drift deep into the hot summer night. Swerve and curve on
windy roads
as darkness slowly falls and
stars pop out
to reveal a twinkly twilight glow. As you hit the gas and drop your windows, the
warm beating rush of summer air
makes you smile and makes everything else in the world just fade away ... fade away ... fade away ... fade away ... fade away . . .

AWESOME!

It's like a mirage.

You see that distant
Do Nothing Day
coming up on the horizon of your kitchen calendar. You stare at its
white squarey blankness
beckoning you closer and closer and closer. Time moves forward, days march on, and still nothing gets planned on that beautifully perfect patch of nothingness. No homework,
no dinner dates
, no sports practices, no visiting mates. It's just
you and you
sharing a nice peaceful moment of alone time.

When you're lucky enough to score a Do Nothing Day, do yourself a favor and
do nothing
. Give your brain a break and slip into the easy bliss of lying in crumpled sheets,
taking a long bath
, and ordering out for dinner. Ditch the guilt while you swing in a hammock, cuddle with your cat, or curl up on the couch in front of the TV.

Once in a while it's good to enjoy a completely unproductive daydreamy day with a slow smile and no worries.

You earned it.

AWESOME!

Everybody gets born.

One day you popped into the world a tiny ball of crying wet nakedness and every year since then we've all stopped to celebrate your big day. Birthdays freeze time as you stare back at last year and get ready to celebrate what's coming around the bend ...

There's a buzz in your bones as your entire class revs up for the Saturday-afternoon screamfest at your place. Flashy invites are handed out, RSVPs are phoned in mom to mom, and loot bags are filled with plastic jewelry as the day approaches.

Soon doorbells bing-bong and your basement becomes a rowdy room of snot-nosed three-footers playing duck-duckgoose, usually with a little girl in baggy thick white stockings and a boy with a huge root beer stain on his crotch.

Next it's time to unwrap presents and everyone stares with wide eyes as you shred wrapping paper to unveil a new red truck, some video games, and authentically pooping dolls. Then mom comes around the corner with a glowing neon green cake and everyone screams “Happy Birthday” under paper party hats and dim lights ...

Online invites fly around to help plan a big night with your friends. Flashy outfits are yanked from the closet, loud music starts banging, and drinks are poured at the bar ...

Suddenly you're a rock star flashing smiles, kissing cheeks, posing for blurry photos with big toothy grins and icy model stares. Tiaras are placed on your head, shots are stuffed in your hands, and your ass gets slapped by old and new friends as all your circles mix together in a boozy dish ...

Dressed up and surrounded by family you smile and blow out a cake full of candles before staring up at a hall full of everyone you know clapping and singing before your sharply dressed son gives a toast to your life ...

As you stare at the flickering candle in the center of a small cake, your brain washes past grainy images of six-year-olds at bowling alleys, smashing piñatas in parks, and dancing till the lights come up at the bar. You remember unwrapping a new bike, swapping secrets at sleepovers, and stealing kisses with new flames. You remember breakfasts in bed, your first birthday as a family, and getting socks from the kids every year for a decade ...

Then you weakly blow out the thin candle before lying back in your flimsy nightgown in the white hospital bed. You stare up at your wife, who has tears in her eyes, and she smiles as you rest one of your fragile hands in hers ... and the other in your grandson's, who stares up at you with wide eyes and a brand new red truck in his hand.

AWESOME!

It's terrible trying to figure out how to get somewhere in a city you've never been before. Strange bus routes,
new taxi systems
, and mazes of complex maps welcome you to your business trip, weekend getaway, or family vacation.

As you arrive at the busy airport you're confronted by a sea of steaming faces. Baggage pickups are packed, customs desks have lines, and you're scrambling to keep your head together as you get your bearings and worry about making time.

That's why it's beautiful when someone you love picks you up at the airport. Yes, when your teenage grandson,
old college roommate
, or church choir pal offers to rescue you from the insanity it's a beautiful scene.

When you spot them waiting for you it's time to drop that suitcase,
bug those eyes
, and run with your backpack bouncing on your shoulders into a beautiful airport hug. For just a moment everything fades to a distant background blur as you're picked up by an old friend in a new place ...

AWESOME!

Everybody hurts, sometimes.

Relationships fritz and fizzle,
bad moods steam and sizzle
, and we all have moments when all we want to do is curl up under a blanket until it all goes away.

In tearstained moments of blackness,
when the weight of the world hangs heavy
, there's nothing as sweet as a furry fourfooted friend noticing your mood and coming over for a snuggle.

So let your dog curl into your lap or your cat stare
straight into your eyes
, and sniff back those hot salty tears.

AWESOME!

My friend Joey got his face ripped off last year.

Yeah, while staring at his cheek in the mirror a few months back he noticed a
small rubbery bump
below the surface of his skin. Few months, few phone calls, few appointments later he found himself under the knife in a five-hour surgery getting a
chestnut-sized tumor
slowly untied and airlifted out of a knotty nest of nerves in a high-stakes game of
Operation
.

Thankfully he's okay and he's all better and he's managed to bounce over a pretty bumpy hill in life. We were all pretty nervous but he's come out clean on the other side.

Plus, now he's got a
crazy scar
from his ear down to his neck to show for it.

And sure, over the years the stitches will drop out, hair might grow over, and the lines on his face could slowly fade away. But he's really got a reminder
every day
of how lucky he is to be alive. He added some dents and scratches to his life story.

And unless you're a
baby-powder-smelling
ball of smooth skin and giggles, I'm betting your flesh and bones is covered with some gashes, scratches, scabs, and stains too.

Maybe it's that fleshy scar on your hand from the eighthgrade fistfight. You were on the bus back from shop class throwing
pockets of sawdust
around when tempers flared and a couple headlocks later you tripped and hit the ground.

Maybe it's the ghost of that
Giant Zit of '97
on your forehead. Did you squeeze it too hard before prom and end up with a bad cover-up job? If so, maybe you can still find your old friend in that photo album, wedged tightly between updos,
wrist corsages
, and freshly pressed tuxes.

Maybe it's a
blurry tattoo
you got with distant friends you don't speak to anymore. You were young, you were graduating, you wanted a memento of getting through a tough year together. And you got it.

It's the zippery line up your groin from the hernia, the tingly bump in your collarbone from the monkey bars, or the big birthmark on your back you've hidden under bathing suits for years.

But whatever yours are,
wherever yours are
, and however you got them, one thing's for sure: Your bumps and scratches are part of your life and part of your story. They're part of your lows ... and part of your glories. They're memories of
bad decisions
and reminders of good ones. And they all come together in a nicely wrapped package that we like to call ... you.

See, we're all a bit bent, we're all a bit busted, we're all a bit broken, we're all a bit rusted. Underneath all the crinkly jeans and wrinkly shirts are beautifully personal collections of hairy legs,
zippery scars
, and spotty skin.

So take a second to stop today and love all your scabs and patches. Just kiss those moles and
rub those bumps
and smile at all your scratches.

AWESOME!

My world was spinning in 2008.

After finishing school in Boston and going on a cross-country road trip with my friends Chris and Ty, I moved to a dusty suburb to live with my brand new wife in my brand new life. Yes, we got married young,
we got married quick
, and after living on opposite sides of the border we were finally moving in to
get busy living
.

So I slapped on a crisp, fresh shirt and started a new
office job
while trying to settle into a brand new town where I didn't know anyone. My high school and college friends had long
scattered like marbles
so I was looking for a new place in a new world.

Now, my wife had been teaching for years so she had a bit more going on. She'd coach
baseball tournaments
and I'd stroll around waving at old folks on their porches. She'd play volleyball and I'd eat cookies and flip past reruns. She'd watch
Grey's Anatomy
with friends and I'd practice the fine art of taking long naps and playing video games.

I was feeling pretty lonely and whenever I flipped open a paper the news didn't exactly cheer me up either. Polar ice caps were melting, hurricanes were swirling in the seas,
wars were raging around the world
, and the job market was in a deep freeze.

It seemed like everything outside my window was just bad and everything inside my window was just ... sad. Yes, although my wife and I had respect, trust, and admiration for each other, it was becoming clear after a few months that ... something was missing.

So one chilly spring night in 2008, alone in our dark house, feeling cut off from the buzzing world of bright lights outside, I went online and on a whim started up a tiny website called
1000 Awesome Things.
I wanted to try to focus on the positive by writing about one awesome thing every night after I came home from work.

I think I needed to remind myself there were bright spots in the darkness. I think I needed a cold breath away from the
hot swirling clouds
around me. I think I needed a place where I could smile at the little things we all smile silently at throughout our days.

Over time our nights at home grew a bit quieter,
our dinners a bit shorter,
and our laughs faded into polite smiles. While the year rolled on, we kept living together but were growing further apart. She'd coach badminton and play on her volleyball team and I'd stay home writing for hours about
picking perfect nachos
and the smell of gasoline.

We kept trucking, kept slugging, kept soldiering on, until the rubber finally hit the road
one quiet night
while we were sitting on the couch. She looked me straight in the eyes and through painful tears summoned the courage to tell me she didn't love me anymore.

It was heartbreaking.

Tears spilled all weekend and wet pillows,
sweaty blankets
, and head spins came in waves. By Sunday night I blinked
bleary-red eyes
and suddenly realized I didn't have anything to write about except crying. So that's what I did and that's why that Monday-morning entry is in
The Book of Awesome
.

When I think back to that time I'm reminded of heavy moments at the bottom of a dark well staring way, way up at the
tiny pinprick of light at the top
. But I'm also reminded of the joy and relief of letting awesome things cheer me up while I struggled to keep moving.