“A journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step.”

– Chinese philosopher Lao-tzu

I was walking in a park the other day and happened to notice this Mile Zero marker at my feet. This naturally got me to thinkin’ (sound of grinding gears) about life’s journeys, and how a person can end up where they are. (What can I say? I was in a pensive mood that day.)

If you take the time to think about it, where you are in life right now is the result of a rather long series of events.

For instance, take the leader of any given organization. I mean, whoever it is didn’t just decide one day to be The Top Dog, you know. Nope, they had to learn what it took to handle the role, make planned and skillful career moves, perhaps take advantage of opportunity as it arose. Eventually, if all the cards fell into place, they made it to the top.

Oh, sure; sometimes a leader gets the role by accident. But that doesn’t mean they’re not qualified and have the characteristics needed to lead. It takes time, effort, and sometimes luck to get there, no matter who you are or what your goal is.

Now think about where YOU are right now. Is it anything like where you thought you’d be when you first started out however many years ago? I’d be willing to wager – probably not! No, what characterized most folks’ journeys is the unpredictability of ‘em. You can make your plans, learn the ropes, identify the goals or whatever. But sometimes it’s still a surprise.

Despite that, setting goals and makin’ those plans is certain worth doing. I mean, if nothing else, it’s good training for wherever you end up. But there’s one more thing you need to get where you’re going. And without this one last thing, you might as well give up now.

Take the First Step

Sometimes that first step is the hardest one, isn’t it? You’ve spent a lot of time planning, scheming, working, hoping and, depending upon who you turn to for help, praying. Now all that’s left is the doing.

So today’s question is pretty simple: What’s keeping you from takin’ that first (or maybe it’s not the first, but the next) step?

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That Special Time of Year

One thing about the Christmas season; around our house it lasts for quite a while.

For instance, we usually put the Christmas tree up the day after Thanksgiving. And, since my birthday is at the end of January, I always beg Mrs. MZM to leave it up until after that blessed event is over. The result: we tend to celebrate Christmas around our house for a full 1/6 of the year! Yeehaw!

Then there’s all kinds of fun stuff to do, too, such as celebrating the end of hurricane season (a very big deal down here in the Gulf Coast region of the United States!), or searching for the perfect gift for Mrs. MZM (assuming the finances allow it – something that’s not always true from year to year *sigh*). Or maybe it’s cooking up sweet goodies like, um, pumpkin bread, or even making a big pile o’ delicious Christmas tamales (don’t laugh; that’s a big tradition here in Texas).

Special seasonal events abound as well: Christmas caroling, family get-togethers, and the annual “throwing out the old year’s resolutions to make brand-new ones”. And that doesn’t’ even begin to count events with religious significance as well: Christmas pageants, candlelight services, and all the rest.

But this year – ah, this year ranks right up there at the top of our Holiday experiences! I had the chance to be a king!

King for A Day

It all started when a friend asked me to help her with their school’s chapel time. “It’s easy,” she said. “All you have to do is be one of the three Kings (also known as the Wise Men) for a few minutes.”

Well, I ask ya; how could I turn such an offer down?

I mean, what’s the downside? There’s this really kingly robe to wear, I get to swap my cowboy hat for a shiny gold crown (only temporarily, of course – or maybe I could come up with a ‘Texas’ version?), and best of all, I’m already an experienced Wise Guy! (Yup; I’m a professional – please don’t try it at home!)

Unfortunately, one of the costumes was a mite too tiny to fit the fellow who volunteered (he was a bit too broad-shouldered), so we drafted my friend’s mom to stand in. (Now ordinarily, you’d think this might raise an eyebrow or two. Luckily, though, our audience was relatively indiscriminating, consisting of mainly a herd of about 25 three- and four-year-olds.)

The skit went well. We walked in singing the first verse and chorus of “We Three Kings”. Then each of us shared a little nugget about who we were (I played the second King, Melchior) and where we were from (I’m from out East – ‘waay past Louisiana). We also talked a little about the gifts we brought for the baby Jesus (mine was frankincense – and I challenge you to explain that to a three-year-old!)

I’ll tell ya; there’s nothing like the expression of wonder on a child’s face, is there? Their collective “ooh’s” and “ah’s” when we came in was well worth the effort.

I’ll tell ya; it’s good to be the King!

But Who Should Really BE the King?

Anyway, it was a lot of fun. Sadly, though, after a few minutes we trooped out and *sigh* had to return to the Real World. As I drove home, though, I reflected a bit on what it means to be a King. After all, when you get right down to it, that’s quite a job description, y’know?

Oh sure, the perks are great. Generally there’s a really nice place to live and a big staff of perennially eager beavers working and catering to every wish. There may even be hordes of devoted followers, too, hanging on the King’s every word as though they were, well, gold, frankincense or myrrh.

But bein’ a King ain’t all fun and games. After all, many a king has discovered the truism (sometimes the, um, hard way, if you get my meanin’) that along with great privilege comes great responsibility.

Sometimes, that’s the hardest lesson of all, isn’t it? That when you’re the actual leader – whether it’s of a single person or an entire country – it takes a very special individual who can truly live up to the role. Presidents and Prime Ministers, CEO’s and Supervisors, Captains and Corporals; they all bear a heavy responsibility when it comes to how they lead the folks underneath them in the org chart.

Are they worthy of the job they bear? Well, that’s the question, isn’t it? Sometimes, no matter the apparent qualifications, only time will tell.

Maybe that’s one reason Christians consider Jesus to be our King. I mean, with what we know about human nature (not to mention the not inconsiderable failings of earthly Kings and leaders of all kinds), only someone sent from God would really be qualified to do it right. Just sayin’.

Are You a Leader?

So what about you?

Are you a leader? What would you say are the main things that makes folks want to follow you? (Trust me when I say, if your followers don’t want to follow you, you ain’t a real leader no matter what the title says!) What advice would you give someone moving into a leadership role for the first time?

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And now for something a little different, y’all.

Kay Plantes asked me if I would be willing to post the following article because she felt it was “a story that needed telling”. I have to admit, it’s a pretty good account of how the power of vision can make all the difference to the tale of success. And, in an amazing display of serendipity, it also happens to fit neatly into our What I Learned From Limits groupwrite project this month! Way to go, Kay!

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Seeking: College-town of 20,000+ college students, with 10,000+ year-round residents, active nightlife and eclectic cultural tastes to locate a unique pizza restaurant

Ian Gurfield, an Amherst University college student, created this vision statement during an academic semester in Italy. Following a post-graduation cross-country trip through America’s college towns, he chose Madison, opening Frances Street Ian’s in the heart of UW’s nightlife.

Ten years later Gurfield owns multiple Madison businesses, his vision far more sophisticated, evolving due to his curiosity, willingness to experiment and tenacity. Admirably, he’s held “not knowing” until the right answers emerged.

Gurfield opened a second Ian’s on State Street to retain an ambitious business partner and capture traffic at Madison’s Capitol Square.  He discovered the challenges of multiple businesses and that a winning location is necessary but not sufficient.  By expanding the space to offer eat-in dining, Gurfield found success.  A restaurant on Chicago’s Clark Street also joined the mix.

Ian’s also grew synergistically using new products.  A local, organic frozen yogurt recently joined salads and brownies on the menus.  A staging kitchen will soon open on Willy Street, relieving stores of ingredient preparation. To speed financial payback, the kitchen will run a retail bakery modeled after Portland, Maine’s Standard Bakery.

Through all this, Gurfield struggled with Ian’s longer-term vision. Growth for the sake of growth wasn’t important, but retaining talent is, and that requires growth.  Furthermore, according to Gurfield, “Franchising wouldn’t work as we’d lose the local-owner-as-manager climate critical to creating Ian’s unique taste and experience.”

Ian’s recently completed 2020 Vision is a best-practice example of visioning for a number of reasons. The vision:

• Is specific and unique—not the generic statements so many leaders settle for.  For example, by 2020 Ian’s will have created 16 businesses, with at least 10 retail pizza restaurants, and in at least two geographic areas. A central entity, Ian’s Soul Central, will establish best practices across sites and offer marketing, financial and management services. An internal investment bank (open to employee investment) will fund expansion.
• Is inspiring—capturing what matters most (such as sustainability and good jobs) to the people who will transform reality into vision.
• Is strategic—setting a direction, not merely elusive goals. Gurfield’s vision work solved how Ian’s will grow while still retaining the individual identity and entrepreneurship vital to any one location’s success. Ian’s will be a federation of independently owned companies (at least two per city) that share knowledge and central services to help entrepreneurs overcome an otherwise lonely, challenging journey. Ian’s Soul Central will also convene a board of managing partners, each overseeing a city’s individual operator-owner companies, like State Street Ian’s Pizza that Lexy Frautschy now fully owns.
• Stretches from today. Ian’s hiring and training practices will be recognized nationally, for example.
• Yet, is rooted in the company’s DNA. Ian’s will always focus on exceptional ingredients, expertly prepared – “A business with pizzazz, not pizza” – and a rewarding environment for team players, all Gurfield core values.
• Clarifies what’s in and out. After completing the vision work, Gurfield learned that an associate’s father had unused organic farmland. Immediately he saw a fit, given Ian’s commitment to sustainable business practices and starting new businesses. Yet another federation member is born.

What does your vision statement say about your organization? If it reflects a “check the box, did that” activity, start again.  Defining your vision is at the heart of thinking and leading strategically.

Kay Plantes helps business leaders make better strategy decisions, faster. Her 20-year old firm, Plantes Company, LLC works with leaders to redefine their organization’s business model to secure higher profits and growth. The MIT-trained economist writes a weekly blog on business model innovation, http://www.plantescompany.com/blog and is author of Beyond Price: Differentiate Your Business in Ways that Really Matter (Greenleaf Bookgroup, 2009) http://www.beyondpricebook.com

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Wandering around Discovery Green Park in downtown Houston one morning a few weeks ago, I was not surprised to find every single park bench had a dedication of some kind. You know what I mean, right? Along the lines of, “In memory of…”, or something similar.

Hey, it’s a time-honored way of remembering those who’ve come before us, and perhaps may no longer be with us. I often wonder what stories are contained within those few brief words.

However, as I was about to leave the park, I ran across this one, in which a slightly different sentiment is expressed: MAKE EVERY MOMENT COUNT.

I’m tellin’ ya; have no idea who the Reckling family is (all 46 of ‘em; yeesh, can you imagine the run on the bathroom in the mornings?), but I’ll tell ya; I am now a big fan!

Yessir, now that’s a sentiment that gets the ol’ ticker turnin’ over, ain’t it? I gotta say, as a kick-start to the day, it was a heckuva great one!

So allow me to pass it on to y’all today – along with a big ol’ tip o’ the hat!

MAKE EVERY MOMENT COUNT

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Have you ever heard this expression: “engraved in stone”? Generally speaking, it refers to something so sure, so predictable, it’s practically a foregone conclusion.

For example, it’s almost a sure thing that every time I drive by a certain well-known national chain ice cream parlor, I have to wrestle with the steering wheel on my car to keep the danged thing from pulling into their drive. Mrs. MZM would say that behavior is practically engraved in stone, y’know? (Alas, that’s a tough one to break; it’s, er, part of how I lost my *ahem* youthful figure – and ended up on this here diet!)

Anyhoo; the thing is, that behavior didn’t just happen overnight. Nope; I had to build it over time.

Building a Bad Habit

Back in 1985, when we first lived in Greenville, South Carolina, the road that took me from home to the office passed right by one of those aforementioned ice cream places. No big deal, you say? Well, this one had something we’d never seen at one of these things before: a drive-through window!

Alas, it was a recipe for disaster! (Well, I gotta admit, the inclination was already there.) All it took to cause me make a bat-turn in the middle of the road and slide up to the window, tires squealing like a stunt driver’s take a left instead of heading straight home after work was that extra little convenience.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t long before the results began to show up on the ol’ waistline, y’know?

But that’s the way bad habits work, don’t they? It may be something subtle at first, but you know how it goes, right? Before too long, it’s become a habit and you’re hooked! The problem, as we all know, is that once formed, bad habits can be oh-so-hard to get rid of. That’s because the behavior that produced the habit has become ingrained in our life.

What to do? Well, the best way to avoid the problem is to keep the bad habit from forming in the first place, right? So how do you head those pesky little things off at the pass?

How To Avoid Bad Habits

Here’s a couple of tips you can try. You just have to, y’know, do ‘em.

Know Yourself – Probably the most important weapon in your arsenal is to know your own strengths. And while you’re at it, get to know your weaknesses, too. I  mean, if you don’t even like ice cream, then Bubba, you ain’t got no problem at all when the ol’ Ice Cream Angel calls your name, right? Alas, most of us don’t fall into that category, so consequently have to admit that particular temptation has legs. But as they say in practically every guide to problem-solving I’ve ever read, the first step to solving a problem – is admitting there’s a problem! That ol’ sayin’, “forewarned is forearmed” has never been more true!

Know Your  Goals – The thing is, when it comes to this particular brand of ice cream, well, let’s just say if one of my goals was to become the World’s “Biggest” Project Manager and get my name in the record books, then I was certainly on the right track! However, since it, um, wasn’t, then obviously it wasn’t gonna help, y’know? Most of the time, all it takes is just a little thought to realize what’s good for your goals – and what’s not. Then all you have to do is, y’know, do the right thing.

Know Your Decisions Ahead of Time – Here’s the best weapon of all, and trust me on this, it’s something we can all do. Knowing that ice cream parlor was there (and I was pretty much forced to drive by it every day) well, I had to make the decision to NOT turn in – before the place was even in sight. I know it sounds simple, and it is. But the fact is, decisions of this nature just naturally are so much easier when you’re not in the midst of the battle, so to speak. Just decide , right now, what you’re going to do. Then, when it comes time to actually do it, you’ll find it so much easier!

Are There More Ways?

So what about you guys? How do you avoid bad habits? I’ve only listed three things; there’s bound to be lots more. Leave your suggestions in the comment box and let’s all have a big belly laugh learn something!

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Photo: Engraved in Stone, by Robert Hruzek

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Have you ever been flying? Well I have!

And not just in airliners; I’ve had an adventure or two while taking flying lessons in a small plane a while back (see Fear of Flying). Besides, that’s not that big a deal, right? Lots of folks have floated above ol’ Terra Firma in everything from hot air balloons to spacecraft

But I’m not talking about flying in an airplane - or actually, a flying machine of any kind. No, I actually learned to fly ‘waaaay sooner than that! In fact, I was still just a kid.

The Summer

To be honest, I really can’t remember how old I was at the time; seems like I must have been somewhere around 10 or 11; maybe as old as 12. Back then, we lived in the town of Bellaire, one of the many small cities that exist like a seed within an orange, completely inside the boundaries of the huge city of Houston, Texas.

Anyway, this was during the summer, when kids of all ages spend their summer vacations just doin’… well, in my case, a whole lotta nuthin’. But it was a fun lotta nuthin’, that’s for sure, especially with the herd of boys I ran around with.

Lessee now… what did we do, anyway? Well, we hung out in the big, empty, corner lot down the street, where, among other things, we built several big wooden platforms high up in the boughs of the largest trees. (Mine was always the highest one because at the time I was the ‘lightest’ kid. Not necessarily the smallest one; just think: very, very thin.)

We also discovered how to make and use an old-world sling (slingshot) like David (of David and Goliath fame). I’m tellin’ ya; it was astonishing how far a rock would go with one of those things! One kid accidentally (no, really!) knocked out a school window over a hundred yards away. Who knew it would go that far! (He ‘fessed up, though. It was one of those times when, even though it got him into trouble, the truth was so spectacular he had to tell it.)

Oh, and I’ll never forget an afternoon spent playing “base-bee”. It’s sorta like baseball, except… well, here’s how it worked. You find a big, blooming wisteria bush and position yourself about 30 feet away. Then you entice bumblebees to fly at you by throwing big rocks into the bush. A bee would note the direction the rock came from (how they did that was anybody’s guess) and immediately come flyin’ out, right towards you. Meantime, you’re holding a board (sorta like a cricket bat), and, at the last minute, you neatly sidestep the oncoming bee and whap! The poor hapless bee would go flyin’ away like a home run knocked outta the park! (Oh, did I mention I was both young – and stupid?)

And then there was the aforementioned Day I Went Flying.

The Hill

One of our favorite activities (when we got tired of doing the above) was go exploring on our bicycles. Hey, if I could add it up now, I bet we rode our bikes for thousands of miles! Seriously. So when the mood struck us, we’d travel far and wide without hesitation – or at least as far and wide as a pre-teen kid could, anyway.

Now, this was back in the days when Houston was building some of the first major freeways around town, including what is now the Loop 610 and I- 59 intersection. (It’s one of the busiest freeway interchanges in Houston these days, but I was there when it was first bein’ built.)

Naturally, in order to build the overpasses necessary for such a major interchange, they needed lots of, well, giant piles of dirt. And, as we all know, giant piles of dirt – hills, really – had the power to attract small boys with about the same inevitability with which Anakin Skywalker was attracted to the Dark Side.

Anyhoo, on this particular day, the most enterprising of our number expressed the following thought out loud: “Gee, I wonder how fast you would go if you rode a bicycle down the side of one of those hills? Wow, it would be kinda like riding down the Hill of Doom!”

Instantly, the whole herd of us became embroiled in a lively debate on the relative merits of such a stupendous idea. The phrase, “Wow, that would be fantastic!” was heard, along with various other, less enthusiastic responses, such as “You’d be goin’ a million miles an hour at least!”, “I don’t think it would work,” or “You wouldn’t get me to do it!”

By the time the dust settled, though, I think the general consensus settled into something along the lines of, “You’d probably kill yourself, you idiot!”

The Dare

As you know, in any random group of folks there’s bound to be someone who fits the category of “will do anything on a dare”, right? Alas, it’s also true that groups of kids tend to have a somewhat larger than average share of ‘em. (Probably because they haven’t lived long enough to fear spending the rest of their days in a wheelchair.)

So, as we looked around at each other, wonderin’ who would be the first to actually do it, our eyes turned towards the oldest one of us to blaze the trail. (I had secretly sworn to myself that it would most certainly not be me!) You had to admire him, though; pushed into a corner and realizing the inevitability of the situation, he bravely accepted the challenge – if not wholeheartedly, then at least willingly. (Besides, there’s no pressure like peer pressure, is there?)

The rest of us arrayed ourselves at the bottom, each silently making bets as to whether or not he’d survive the ordeal. We watched as he laboriously climbed up the hill, pushing his bicycle all the way. (Have you ever tried to walk up one of those things? They’re really steep!) Finally, he reached the top. He took a few minutes to regain his breath, then settled himself firmly onto the seat. Time seemed to stand still as he stood poised at the brink of the precipice. We held our collective breath as he leaned forward…

It was the most amazing thing I’d ever seen in my entire young life!

The Plunge

He quickly gathered speed – literally flying down the hill like a lightning bolt and hangin’ on for dear life. I don’t remember if he screamed or not (he was probably too terrified to do anything but hold on), but I can tell you for sure the rest of us were enthusiastically shouting for all we were worth!

After zinging by us like a rocket sled on steroids, he finally managed to slow down and turn around. Pedaling back our way, he took a well-deserved victory turn around our little band of brothers like the champion he was that day. It was stupendous! It was amazing! I’m tellin’ ya; it was the best day ever!

Once the celebration died down, though, the discussion got down to who was going to be next. Some kids absolutely refused to do it at all. But for some strange reason, I found myself volunteering for the job. I truly don’t exactly know why I decided to try it (believe me when I tell you I wasn’t the most daring of souls – then or now), but I soon found myself up there at the top of the hill.

It’s amazing how looking up a certain distance never seems as far as looking down the same distance. Although it didn’t seem quite so far when I was at the bottom of the hill, the view from up at the top looked like it was about a million miles down. From this height I could see all my friends arrayed like little ants – no, wait; those were ants – but my friends appeared really, really small as well.

Yeesh, what had I gotten myself into? I mentally promised never to volunteer for anything, ever again. (Who knows, maybe that’s why I never joined the Army.)

The Choice

Standing up there, facing impending doom and practically certain I was about to breathe my last, I realized there were only three – no, only four possible outcomes.

1. I could choose NOT to do it. Yep; I could have just said the heck with it (when I was a kid, heck was the absolute worst word I could think to use in these situations) and walked back down the hill, to the inevitable catcalls and razzing of the other boys – from then until the end of time. It was a tough choice; on the one hand, I’d probably never live the ignoble episode down. On the other hand, at least I’d be, y’know, alive.
2. I could ride down the hill, killing myself in the process. Yeah, it was pretty easy to imagine all sorts of dire things happening on my way down the mountain: the wheel could fall off, my seat could come loose, I could get a foot caught in the chain… with the inevitable result: I’d tumble off the bicycle and roll endlessly downhill, to wind up a horribly mangled pile of pulp. (Imagination is easy to a kid, you know.) Oh, well, at least they would be able to talk about how brave I was there at the funeral. Small consolation, that.
3. I could ride down the hill and live to tell the tale. Way down there near the bottom of my mental list of possible – no, better make that probable – outcomes, there was the slightest chance I could actually do this thing. I’ll tell ya; I had to squint pretty hard to see it, but there it was. I knew if I could do this, I’d really have something to talk about among my peers. I could visualize myself, a giant among men (or at least, boys), one who could always point to this incident and say, “No, I’m not going to wrestle that giant man-eating cobra, saving that gorgeous babe in the process and earning her everlasting appreciation – but at least I rode down that hill on my bicycle back when we were kids!” To which they would always have to shuffle their feet in remembered shame because they, y’know, didn’t.
4. I could be killed by a falling meteor. I know, I know. Besides, even a billion-to-one chance was at least a chance, right? At least I’d go out in a blaze of glory.

Anyway, since I obviously lived to relate this sordid tale, then neither #2 or #4 happened. So which option did I choose, you ask? Well, it’s like this…

The Flight

Yessir, ladies and gentlemen, I actually did muster up what little courage I had and (sound of terrified scream) down the hill I went! I must’ve broken the sound barrier within moments, the wind howling so loud past my ears I couldn’t hear a thing. The pedals spun around so fast they became invisible, and I had to just lift my feet up, gripping the bicycle with only my hands and my, er, butt cheeks. (You’d be surprised how effective that can be – particularly when your butt’s continued existence depended upon it!)

I was at the bottom within a matter of seconds (perhaps six, or maybe seven at most), and microseconds before I got there, I realized something important. The one thing I hadn’t thought about was that sudden transition from down to horizontal. It looked… well, kinda abrupt, if you get my meanin’. I mean, there were probably a few places I could have selected that had a somewhat smoother curve to ‘em, but if so, well, the spot I was gonna hit wasn’t one of ‘em!

No, in my case the bicycle (and, of course, me too) changed direction so fast it compressed my whole body down onto the bicycle seat far enough to flatten the seat’s springs. (Good thing it had a thick metal plate in it; things might’ve been pretty unpleasant otherwise!)

Now, you’re probably familiar enough with the expression, “what goes up, must come down”, right? Well, my friends; I can tell you – and from personal experience, yet  – the opposite is also true: “what goes down, must come up”!

Yep; when all that downward energy was released, it literally catapulted my body upward in such a way that I suddenly became airborne! Luckily (and probably the only reason I’m still able to talk about it today), I barely – just barely, mind you – managed to hang onto the handlebars.

The surprising result was that, instead of completely wiping out, for a spectacular few seconds I executed a rather incredible handstand over the handlebars as I zinged past my stunned audience. Then, in a Grand Finale performance worthy of Cirque du Soleil, my butt neatly plopped right back down on the bicycle seat! It happened so quickly – and smoothly – it was as if I’d planned the whole thing all along. I’ll tell ya; there’s no doubt in my mind my Guardian Angel was workin’ overtime that day!

Folks, that was one of the most frightening – and exhilarating – events of my life (and that includes the time I accidentally answered a, uh, former girlfriend’s question, “Do these pants make me look fat?”) I’m almost sure my heart stopped beating as soon as I left the top of the hill. I’m positive I didn’t take another breath until I was able to start braking down to a speed that was something less than insane.

The Challenge

So what does careening uncontrollably down the Hill of Doom on a bicycle – nearly meeting my Maker in the process – have to do with life, anyway? Well, it’s sorta like this.

There’s no doubt about it, y’all. These days, folks all over are facing things they’ve never had to face before. It’s like they’re tearing along in one direction, then – maybe even through no plan or fault of their own – they suddenly changed direction and found themselves launched headlong into space! What’s more, they’re so busy lookin’ for a soft place to land, they haven’t even got time to figure out what to do.

I’ll tell ya, friends; I’ve been there more times than I want to remember!

So here’s your Questions for the Day:

What do you do when you inadvertently go flyin’ into the wild blue yonder? What can you do? How do you handle it when something comes along that literally takes the planet right out from under you? Can you truly prepare for the unknowable?

C’mon, what do you think?

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Photo: untitled, by Jon Hanson

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I’ll tell ya; I was watching the national (U.S.) news last week, and I couldn’t help but stare in awestruck wonder (sorta like the same way you just can’t tear your eyes away from a train wreck) by the absolutely ridiculous linguistic gyrations being paraded out for us by a supposedly smart woman. Now c’mon, y’all; wasn’t that the most insultingly convoluted attempt at circumlocution you’ve ever seen? (It’s funny how dangerous things always travel in packs, ain’t it? Lessee… there’s a pack of wolves, a pack of cigarettes… oh, and a pack of lies..)

Why is it, I wondered, when we do something dumb, the very first impulse always seems to be something along the lines of ‘at all costs, avoid responsibility and deny everything’?

But forget about U.S. House Speaker Nancy Pelosi (who has now managed to usurp Bill Clinton’s spot as the poster child for that sort of thing) and the big, giant pickle she’s gotten herself into, I actually asked that question because of something that happened to yours truly the other day.

In fact, the reason this subject comes up at all is, well, I guess the best thing is to go ahead and confess to it right up front: My name is Robert, and I’m a (sound of anguished scream) cookie-killer. Go ahead, bring on the handcuffs; I’ll go quietly, officer.

See, it was like this…

It’s Snackin’ Time!

The other evening, Mrs. MZM and I were winding down from a rather strenuous day of… well, whatever the heck we do all day. Now, we’d just snuggled into our favorite spot on the couch when she looked up at me and said “Want something?”

I knew what she meant, of course. After all, when you’ve been married for 27 years, spending that much time together means at least some of our conversations have been honed down to a nub, if you get my meanin’. My stomach, knowing exactly what she meant, immediately perked up and gronked in reply.

After a brief discussion of the options (no need to repeat it here; our brand of shortspeak probably wouldn’t make all that much sense to you anyway) the judge’s decision, by a considerable margin, was: cookies!

Now don’t get me wrong, y’all; “having” cookies around our house ain’t that easy! I mean, it’s not like our pantry is loaded up with the things. And we’ve never been a big fan of those store-bought packages, either – none of those pre-baked, vacuum-bagged pretenders for us! (Mrs. MZM requires me to mention one exception: Girl Scout Thin Mints.)

Nope; around our house, when thoughts turn to cookies, we have to actually, y’know, bake ‘em ourselves. Well, to be honest – something we always strive for here at the Zone – we use those pre-made cookie dough things you keep in the fridge and just pop on a cookie sheet. Hey, we’re not total purists around here; too much work.

Anyhoo – hey, we have cookie-preparation down to a science around here: preheat the oven, carefully place the little doughballs (chocolate chip for the Mrs., and Oatmeal Raisin for me – both enhanced with a touch of cinnamon) on a cookie sheet, pop ‘em in the oven, set the timer, and… wait.

(That last is always the hardest part, isn’t it? The delicious smell of cinnamon quickly grows so powerful, by the time they’re actually ready to eat you’re practically gnawing on the furniture.)

The Call of the Wild (Cookie, that is)

Finally (!) that little timer thing on the oven lets off with it’s characteristic (and by the way, quite annoying) electronic signal. C’mon, admit it – it’s sorta like the Call of the Wild, ain’t it? And just like Pavlov’s dogs, at the sound of the tone my mouth instantly began watering in anticipation as I catapulted outta the couch like I was launched from an aircraft carrier calmly stood up and went to the kitchen to retrieve our little golden delights (surreptitiously smoothing over those unsightly chew marks on the sofa).

Here’s where the crucial event occurs. (Better gird your loins for this, folks; it ain’t pretty.)

I picked up a hot pad, opened the oven door (while inhaling the sweet, delicious aroma of hot, fresh-baked cookies – YUM!), grabbed a corner of the piping hot cookie sheet, pulled ‘em out of the oven, and proceeded to dump the whole shebang – cookie-side down, mind you – smack dab on the floor!

WHAP!

The sharp metallic sound of metal on tile reverberated around the kitchen for a few moments, then… a stunned silence filled the void. (Insert moment of stunned silence here.)

Yeah, I know; you’re probably as shocked I was at this appalling turn of events. I’m tellin’ ya; my heart just about stopped! It was an absolute travesty. It was criminal. It was… like in that movie The Day the Earth Stood Still, when the Earth, y’know, stood still. I half expected to look up and see ol’ Gort shaking his big, metallic head in dismay as he prepared to laser me into oblivion.

After about 5 seconds of this, Mrs. MZM’s voice wafted gently in from the other room, an ominous tone clearly detectable: “Did what I think happen – just happen?”

Uh-oh.

My panicky brain started to flounder as the connection between it and my tongue momentarily broke down. For a few seconds, the recurring phrase sense of impending doom was the only thing that circled through my poor befuddled mind. The flight reflex instinctively rose from its deep, dark lair, while sweat began to bead upon my troubled brow.

To top it off – and I kid you not – I distinctly remember thinking, Now, how can I plausibly claim, ‘It’s not my fault’?

Time to Pay the Piper

OK, rhetorical question here (which does not mean something Rhett Butler would have asked):

Have you ever done something stupid? Oh, I’m not just talkin’ about murdering a tray of poor, defenseless cookies; I mean, have you ever done something dumb and then immediately thought to yourself, Now how on Earth could I have ever done such a bone-headed thing?

No; no need to raise your hand or anything. I’d say the chance of anyone NOT pulling a boner at least once in their lifetime is roughly on the order of, well, that of ol’ Adam and Eve convincing God it “wasn’t them” who took the apple off that Tree of Life . After all, who else could it have been, y’know?

But what surprised me most was that little reflex thought that scampered through my brain. In spite of the clear and undisputable facts, right? I mean, there was no way I could deny that it was, y’know, my fault. The evidence, after all, was right there on the floor for all to see. (OK, it was just me and Mrs. MZM – and no, there is no, er, surviving photographic evidence.) There was absolutely no way to credibly deny it was me, and me only, that did the low-down dirty deed.

So what did I do? Well, own up, of course! Hey, I just never quite got a good grip on the edge of the cookie sheet as I lifted it out of the oven, with the inevitable result. End of story.

Almost.

The Rest of the Story

OK, by now you’re probably wondering if I’ve been sent up the river to do hard time by a jury of my peers, and I’m writin’ this post with a little tiny stub of a No.2 pencil on a long sheet of toilet paper smuggled into my dingy cell. So what sentence, you’re sayin’ to yourself, did Mrs. MZM throw at you for ruining a perfectly good snack?

Actually, she was remarkably cool and collected about the whole thing. (I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again: What a woman!) In fact, after collecting the bodies of the dear departed and sharing a moment of silence (not to mention a tear or two), she even helped me clean up the mess. Later, humor – and practicality – won out, of course: we immediately baked another batch.

This time, I offered to let her retrieve ‘em from the oven, but she just shook her beautiful head and smiled. “Ya gotta get back on that horse,” she said with a smile – and a hint of steel.

But I have to say, it was a remarkably interesting lesson. And if – no, make that when – you do something like I did – something that just ain’t right – c’mon, just admit it and move on! I mean, how hard a lesson can it be, right? It’s a simple one, to be sure; easy to say, too. And after all, you’d think anyone with even an ounce of sense woulda figured that out before the age of five.

But I’ll tell ya; every time I watch the news these days, it becomes obvious there are some folks – folks who definitely should know better – that just don’t seem to get it. The truth is, they ain’t foolin’ nobody.

All I can add is, don’t you choose to be like that. I’m just sayin’.

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