Comedy

Light for the Journey: The Strength of Solitude: Why Being Alone Is a Hidden Blessing

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What if solitude isn’t something to fear—but a quiet sign of emotional freedom?

“Blessed are those who do not fear solitude, who are not afraid of their own company, who are not always desperately looking for something to do, something to amuse themselves with, something to judge.” ~ Paulo Coelho

Reflection

Paulo Coelho reminds us that solitude is not something to escape, but something to befriend. When we are comfortable in our own company, we stop demanding constant noise, distraction, or judgment to feel alive. Solitude becomes a place of restoration rather than loneliness—a quiet room where clarity returns and the soul stretches its legs. In those moments, we hear our own thoughts without interruption and rediscover who we are beneath roles, opinions, and expectations. Not fearing solitude is a sign of inner strength. It means we trust ourselves enough to sit still, listen inwardly, and grow without applause or approval.

Something to Think About:

How might your life change if you viewed solitude not as emptiness, but as a space for renewal and self-trust?

Let Your Worries Take a Hike—Rick Will Watch Them for You

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Some folks can’t go a day without doomscrolling, forecasting disaster, or Googling “asteroid impact probability.” But not you, amigo. Today, let the sun hit your face, sip your coffee slowly, and leave the worrying to professionals like Rick—he’s got a full-time gig with benefits.

Enjoy today. Let the big worries have a vacation. You both need some time off. I can guarantee the worries will be waiting for you when you open the door. So, don’t worry about not worrying. I know people who make a profession out of worrying. My friend Rick is such a person.

Ray: Hi Rick, how’s it going?”

Rick: “Did you see the latest news?”

Ray: “I get my news online. I prefer to read about it.”

Rick: “Get your head in the game, Ray. These tariffs are going to send you to the poor house.”

Ray: “The way I live, mostly a plant based diet. My brother calls me cheap. I say I’m frugal. Everything will play out. Not to worry.”

Rick. “I wouldn’t be so sure. I heard STDs are coming back.”

Ray: “Are you worried about getting an STD (Rick is in his 80’s)?

Rick: “No, but I might know some people who could get an STD.”

Ray: (trying to change the subject). How do you like this weather? It’s great?”

Rick: “It’s been a few good days, but there’s a 5 percent chance in ten days we could have severe thunderstorms.”

Ray: (I’m getting a headache). “I’ve got to run, Rick. Lots of errands to do.”

Rick: “Watch out for road rage and pot holes and all that construction.”

Ray: (I need a cup of coffee). Adios, Rick.

Love, Lizards & Patio Politics: When Dinner Dates Turn Cold-Blooded

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When it comes to picking the perfect dinner spot, humans aren’t the only ones tangled in a web of indecision. Meet Jack and Julie, two lizards locked in a tail-twitching debate over Ray’s backyard buffet. It’s fly vs. flower, mealy bug vs. romance—and things are about to get reptilian.

Going out for lunch or dinner date with a friend or partner is fraught with multiple decisions. Each person has his or her preferences. One has to consider the food, atmosphere, price, inside or outside dining, and what to wear. These few decisions are only scratching the surface. The negotiations can become intense with each side digging in to their positions before the final decision is made.

I think the same issues confront our friends in the animal world. Consider two lizards (male and female) discussing their decision on where to dine. I’ll call the male lizard Jack and the female lizard Julie.

Jack: “Where would you like go tonight?”

Julie: “I don’t know, what do you think?”

Jack: “I like Ray’s patio. I usually can nab a few flies and a spider. I never leave hungry.”

Julie: “We’re always going to Ray’s patio. It’s so boring. I wish he’d update it.”

Jack: “How about the cement slab by the air conditioner?”

Julie: “That will be in the direct sun. And it’s not a good look when my green skin changes to brown.”

Jack: “It doesn’t matter what color your skin, you always look beautiful to me.”

Julie (rolling her eyes): “What about dining by his cactus plants. My skin will be a perfect green and we’ll have a bit of shade from the sun.”

Jack: “I hate the food there. All we get are those mealy bugs. And, I don’t want to deal with fire ants.”

Julie: “I will not go back to Ray’s patio. I’d rather go hungry..”

Jack. “Well I won’t go to the cactus.”

Two minute pause.

Julie: “I have an idea?”

Jack: “What?”

Julie: “Ray has two potted plants just off his patio. I’ll go in the plant with the most green and pretty flowers. You can have the other one, one of his herbs.”

Jack: “Now I know why we got together. You’re beautiful and brainy.”

Julie: “You just might get lucky, you hunk.”

Hope, Heartbreak, and Pretzels: A Red Sox Fan’s Guide to Seasonal Suffering

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Being a Red Sox fan is like ordering a sundae and getting smacked with the spoon. Just when you think it’s safe to believe, the Yankees load the bases and your pretzel bag becomes your emotional support animal.

I enjoy following my favorite teams. Most people I know have teams. They get excited when they win, feel depressed when they lose. We quickly put the loss behind us and look forward with hope to their next game. It can be a crazy ride. It’s now baseball season in US and my team is the Boston Red Sox. This is the team that loves to break my heart each year. Here’s how a phone conversation went that I had with a friend who is also a Red Sox fan.

Ray. “I think the Sox are going to make the playoffs.”

Tim: “You gotta believe, Ray. They’ve got the pitching, hitting, and they that new third base player.”

Ray: “Are you watching the game?

Tim: “Yah, They’re leading 6 to 0 and it’s the 7th inning. WE got this. The Yankees are going down.”.

Ray: “You know how it is in baseball, Tim. It’s never over until it’sl over. The Yankees have the base loaded.”

Tim: “No problem, we’re bringing in our best reliever to face their slugger.”

Ray: “Why did he throw a fast ball on his first pitch. He hit a grand slam homer. It’s 6 to 4.”

Tim: “We got out of the inning, we’re still ahead. We got this.”

Ray: “I’m eating more pretzels than normal. I hate the Yankees. I don’t want to see them win.”

Tim: “It’s the 9th inning. There are two outs and two on and two strike on James. He’s their worst hitter. Oh, oh. “

Ray: “Oh oh is right.We’re losing 7 to 6. Excuse while I hunt for another bag of pretzels.”

Tim: “This was a tough loss.”

Ray: “You know it. We’ll get them tomorrow. Johnson is pitching. I’m going to the market. I need more pretzels.

Chips, Salsa, and Secret Connections: How Knowing Your Waiter Turns You Into Royalty

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We know you’re smart. You’re reading this and not arguing with strangers on social media about how to pronounce “gyro.” So go ahead, hit that like button — your brain deserves the round of applause.

I enjoy making connections. I know people who make connections for personal gain, e.g., someone who can help them achieve a personal success. That’s a good thing. I like meeting people to hear their stories and perhaps build a friendship. Well, the day I went to a Mexican restaurant with a friend having a connection paid off for me.. Remember, this is San Antonio and the Mexican food is fantastic. I don’t think I’ve met a Mexican or Tex Mex restaurant I did’t like.

My friend and I were seated at our table, before we could open our menus someone brought us chips and salsa. I used all my self discipline to hold off on the chips, if I eat one, I’m done. I’ll go through a basket of those tantalizing devils. The waiters comes to our table. I know this guy. He works out at my gym and we chat when we are working out near each other. We’re on a first name basis.

Miguel asks for our orders. When it’s my turn I ordered parrillada de vegetales. It came with rice and borracho beans. I asked my Miguel to sub a second small bowl of borracho beans for the rice. When my order came, the veggies were overflowing, I got a side of guacamole I didn’t expect and a bowl of borracho beans large enough to swim in.. It pays to have a connection with a waiter.

Lawn and Disorder: Confessions of a Reluctant Mower in the Wilds of Suburbia

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I survived sunstroke, fire ants, and a near spiritual reckoning—all for the privilege of cutting my own grass. While my neighbors sip cervezas and outsource their mowing, I’m out there making pilgrimages with my electric mower and a rosary in my pocket.

I did the deed today. I can make excuses to procrastinate. I am slowly earning a Phd on procrastination. Not everything mind you. This one task. I rank it close in pain to going to the dentist office to get a root canal. I’ll cut straight to the chase. I cut my grass. How difficult is that for a guy who works out every day of the week. I’m the only person in my neighborhood who cuts his grass. The rest? They hire someone, sit on their patios with a Texas-sized iced tea or a a cerveza or two..Me, I’m laboring under the Texas sun with my electric mower. I make excuses not to mow. Here are five of my favs: 1) There are fire ants under the five inch high grass. 2) I think I heard a rattlesnake. 3) I’ve heard of coral snakes in the area and they are deadly. 4) The drought should kick in any day now and I won’t have to mow. And 5), I’ll wait until the HOA threatens me with a fine. My Catholic conscience threatened it will nag me until I go to confession if I didn’t cut the grass. I can see it now,

Me: “Father, I haven’t cut my grass in 8 weeks, my yard looks like hell, opps, I mean really natural in it original natural state, and it’s now how to a lot of birds, snakes, lizards, and scorpions. That’s got to count for something?”

Father O’Brien: “Why are you telling me this?” “I thought coming to confession was better than cutting my grass.” It’s not a sin, but say a half dozen Hail Mary’s asking for the strength to cut your grass before you get a fine.”

Me: “Can I ask for someone to surprise me and tell me they are doing it for free?”

Father O’Brien: “You’re walking on the edge. You better leave while you’re ahead.”

I did do the deed. I feel better. My yard looks better. And, I didn’t run into any snakes, lizards, or scorpions. I barely missed a fire ant hill.

Talk Radio Egos and the Art of the Hang-Up: Middle School Takes, Adult Microphones

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Ever tune into a sports talk show and wonder how these guys landed a job yelling into a mic with the emotional maturity of a cafeteria food fight? One minute they’re debating stats, the next they’re acting like they just lost their juice box at recess.

I like to catch a sports talk show podcast every know and then. The hosts have ego’s so big they need to use Vaseline to squeak through the door to get into the studio. If they disagree with a caller they have the ultimate power, they can disconnect the call and go on to the next caller. How do you get a gig like this? Here is a typical call in conversation:

Host: “Hello Bob from Quincy.”

Bob: “You guys don’t know what you’re talking about?”

Host: “Bob, can you be more specific? Give us some facts.”

Bob: “Why should I give you facts? You never use them. Your buddy, Zeke, for example, says the Sox pitching sucks. My middle school son says the same thing. I ask him why and he says, “It just does.” So I figure you guys are acting like middle schoolers.”

Host: “You hear that Zeke? Bob says we’re acting like middle schoolers?”

Zeke: “Don’t bother me I’m checking out Tik Tok and my Facebook page. Ask Bob if he’ll give my Facebook page a like.”

Bob: “I heard that. I wouldn’t give your Facebook page a like even if you were giving out free tickets to the Sox games.”

Host: “Bob, do you go to the Sox games?”

Bob: “Whay should I? Their pitiching sucks.”

Host: “Next caller.”

God’s Wheel ~ A Poem by Shel Silverstein

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God’s Wheel

Shel Silverstein

GOD says to me with a kind
of smile, “Hey how would you like
to be God awhile And steer the world?”
“Okay,” says I, “I’ll give it a try.

Where do I set?
How much do I get?
What time is lunch?
When can I quit?”

“Gimme back that wheel,” says GOD.
“I don’t think you’re quite ready YET.”

Source

🍕Confessions of a Cardio-Fueled Pizza Addict

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I didn’t choose the pizza life—the pizza life chose me. I haven’t met a piece of pizza I didn’t like.
Show me a pizza, and suddenly I’m negotiating with my elliptical like it’s a hostage situation. I wanted to eat healthy, so I gave up red meat. When I gave up red meat there went pepperoni and sausage off the pizza. I didn’t know nitrates could taste so good. So I gradually weaned myself away and began substituting veggies and fresh mozzarella. Without the meat, I reasoned I could eat more. At first I reasoned that my weight gain was water retention. After a few more days I knew I had to take corrective action. Cut back on pizza? Never! I began calculating how long I’d have to work out at the gym so I could consume a generous slice of pizza. Eventually, through trial and error and a few pounds here and there I figured it out. If I went on the elliptical machine for one hour at a moderate pace and lifted weights for 45 minutes I could eat a generous slice of pizza and not gain weight. The problem being who can stop with one piece of pizza? The solution was simple, exercise more. Soon I found myself showing up to the gym five days a week so I could maintain my pizza habit. That’s when a friend confronted me with the startling truth, “Ray, you’ve got a problem. You’re hooked on pizza.” I answered, “That’s a good thing, right?” My friend challenged me, “You’re in denial. Do you want me to check to see if there is a pizza anonymous in the city?” My mind raced, he wants me to attend PA meetings. started to sweat. The thought of sitting with a group of like people and saying, “Hi, my name is Ray and I’m addicted to pizza.” Thanks to my friend I am reformed pizza addict. Now I eat stuff that says it’s pizza but it isn’t. It has cauliflower crust and I something that supposed to be mozzarella. At least I’m not falling asleep in the middle of the day after being exhausted from working out for a couple of hours.

Today’s Joke: Joe’s Still Trying to Figure it Out

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Joe: “My girlfriend asked me what I knew about Pavlov.”

Pete: “What did you say?”

Joe: “It rings a bell.”

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