As I sit here again and by again I mean that I’ve made numerous attempts over the past two weeks or so to put my thoughts and feelings down on the screen. And along with each attempt comes an opening of the flood gates, virtually stopping me in my tracks. Thankfully I know enough to know that giving up is not an option. In fact, that’s something I learned from my very dear friend and the main reason I’m writing this post. To send my best to my Guardian Angel Annabelle.

How could three years have passed already? Where has the time gone. It feels as if just yesterday, at least it does in my heart anyway. Just yesterday that I was conversing with one of the most amazing women I’ve ever known. I shouldn’t even narrow it down to gender, without a doubt she is and was the most incredible person I’ve ever known.

I had honestly hoped by now that some of the emptiness in my heart would have subsided but I can honestly say that it hasn’t. Not even slightly. All I have to do is think about her and it takes everything I have to stop the flood gates from opening. That’s why I knew I had to start writing this post ten days ahead of schedule. As difficult as it is right now, I know it’s going to be even more difficult over the next week or so. Even more difficult to move the words from my heart to my keyboard without becoming a blubbering mess.

One would think by now that I’d be able to show some composure, some signs that I’m better able to deal with this huge loss like an adult. But you’d be wrong. Very wrong. The mere thought of her being gone and I’m done, mentally lost in space. Although I will admit that there is a quicker gaining of composure than there was three years ago which has to be some sign of an improvement. Some signal that I’m semi getting it together. Getting a grip as it were.

Not complete control by any means but just a bit better grasp on the reality of her being gone. I believe we all go through that feeling of unbelievability after a huge loss. That wondering if it’s even real. That feeling that the person you’ve been told is no longer with us, that somehow it’s all just a bad dream and next thing you know the phone will ring and they will be on the other end of the line or they will come walking through the front door any minute now. Unfortunately, that doesn’t happen. They truly are gone.

I still have Annabelles number in my phone and needless to say, she’s at the top of my favorites list. And yes, reality being what it is, I’m well aware by now that she won’t be calling me nor will I be able to call her but removing her contact info is beyond anything my heart can handle nor do I even have any desire to remove it. I only wish I could still hear her voice in a past voicemail but that too can never be. Long since removed, not by me but apparently after time the messages fade away. But her memory will never fade away. Never. Forever she will be on my mind and in my heart.

I’m reminded daily of everything that she means to me, everything she’s done for me to help carry me through so many challenging times. As I’ve stated previously, without her help as well as her encouragement there’s no telling where I’d be right now. I dread even thinking about it, knowing full well that without a doubt it wouldn’t be anywhere I would choose to be. That goes without saying.

Am I any better off than I was three years ago? To be honest I’m not really sure. But what I am sure of is that I would be much worse off than I am right now had it not been for her. And everything she taught me about the true meaning of life. She showed me what it truly means to be grateful and appreciative of everything, regardless of how big or small we perceive those things to be. To be grateful for another new beginning each and every day that we are fortunate enough to experience. Another chance at a better future.

Thank you my Angel, thank you for everything you have as well as continue to do for me because without you I never would have known what’s truly important in life. As well as how wonderful life can be with the right attitude. Yes, you proved to me each and every day just how critical ones attitude is to making the most of life. To getting the most out of every second. And for that I will never be able to thank you enough.

Annabelle, I love you and I miss you more than ever. More than mere words can ever express.

Did you by any chance happen to catch the final round of the 2010 Masters Tournament on Sunday? If not, you really missed something special. Similar to the Superbowl, where lots of non footballers around the world tune in on that Super Sunday, I’d have to imagine that there are plenty of non golfers that tune in to watch The Masters each year as well.

Largely considered the Holy Grail of golf, Augusta National Golf Club is known worldwide as one of, if not THE most beautiful golf course in the world. Every square inch of its glorious greenness manicured to perfection. It’s as if they individually trim every single blade of grass to its appropriate height and then comb them all to ensure they are facing the correct direction.

Mere words can’t begin to do justice to the magnificence that is the Augusta National Golf Club. Both Bobby Jones and Clive Roberts created a masterpiece that all other Golf Clubs can only hope to aspire to. The drive down Magnolia Lane, en route to the nearly 100 year old Clubhouse (resembling a Southern Mansion) brings goose bumps to even the biggest names in golf.

Steeped in history, the list of names that have traveled this road and won this Tournament are no doubt the Who’s Who of golf. Jones, Sarazen, Snead, Demaret, Hogan, Player, Palmer, Nicklaus, the list goes on. To win here is to place yourself among golfs finest. Truly an honor.

If you play golf, no doubt you’ve fantasized about making that drive, exploring the Clubhouse, visiting Butler Cabin (where each year the Green Jacket is presented to the winner) and if all goes well, a quick trip up to the Crows Nest where Bobby Jones himself contemplated his golf swing.

Only St. Andrews in Scotland, known as “The Home Of Golf”, having held The Open since the early 1800′s can be considered in the same class but as far as this side of the pond goes, none can hold a candle to the Augusta National Golf Club.

Unfortunately, this year CBS tried their best to mess things up but luckily for us viewers, they were unable to succeed. Doing all they could to transform the Masters Tournament into the “Tiger Show”, touting his comeback to competitive golf as the most important thing to happen in the golf world since Jack Nicklaus first picked up a shortened golf club made for him by his father, Tiger more or less became a non factor about the time he reached Amen Corner.

While I’ll admit Tiger did play well considering this was his first time playing after his five month layoff, they continually attempted to give the impression that he was the only golfer with a chance to win and it would be up to him to make the mistake that would cost him the Green Jacket. Definitely not fair to the forty some other World Class golfers on the course, all playing their hearts out for a Green Jacket.

The roller coaster ride that is Sunday at The Masters was never a disappointment. Didn’t matter who you were rooting for, birdies, bogeys, even a few eagles were seen flyin’ around those hallowed grounds. At times the roars were deafening, becoming a distraction to quite a few of the players as the course is designed with the tee boxes rather close to the greens. Many a player was forced to back away from their ball, choosing to wait for the galleries reactions to other golfers shots before proceeding ahead to their own.

Luckily for me, my faves continued to produce one thrill packed shot after another. I had narrowed my choice of winners down to two, either of which deserved to win it after their remarkable displays of shot making skill throughout the week.

Since I first discovered this wonderfully cruel game known as golf way back in the mid 1980′s, Fred Couples has been a fixture at the top of countless Leaderboards. With his sweet as molasses swing, a tempo that could put a baby to sleep and a demeanor for all to envy, “Boom Booms” fan base is truly global.

To this day I can still remember the first time I asked him for an autograph. It was sometime during the late 1980′s, on one of my first visits to La Costa Country Club for the Tournament of Champions that I had my first up close and personal interaction with one of my Idols.

Freddie was making his way to the practice putting green and summoning up all my courage, I interrupted him long enough to ask him to autograph my visor. All the while smiling, he made it seem as if he had nothing better to do, like I wasn’t bothering him at all. A very pleasant experience to say the least.

Contrast that with an interaction I had with Greg Norman around this same time. While walking from the practice tee to the putting green, I asked “The Shark” for an autograph to which he politely declined. His response to me was that since it was drizzling a bit, he wouldn’t sign autographs. I even offered to hold his umbrella for him while he signed my visor (that’s how star struck I was) but again, he replied with a resounding NO!

Hard to believe that both of these episodes, along with quite a few others (like the day Arnold Palmer smiled at me, making me feel like I was the only fan in the Gallery) have continued to stick in my mind over the last twenty or so years but that’s how much I idolized these guys back then. In my mind they had succeeded in conquering a game that I honestly felt could never be conquered and I held great respect and admiration towards them. I still do to this day.

And while I still have great respect for Greg, I must admit that my interaction with Freddie that day truly taught me much more about Fred, the person than it did about Fred, the golfer. Freddie is the epitomy of a true gentleman and someone I could only hope to emulate.

So, to see him in contention all week, especially since he’s been battling career ending back problems over the last few years was most definitely a wonderful experience.

And of course there’s Phil, Tigers closest rival. Both of them have consistently been #1 and #2 in the World at any given time throughout the last decade or more. Battling each other since the Junior Golf days, they’ve been trying to top each other for quite some time.

Phil, having grown up in San Diego, has been a well known fixture in the local golf community since he was very young. From Junior Golf to the Pro Tour, his name has definitely become synonymous with golf in San Diego. From the little Par 3 Course at Presidio Hills to the long ocean swept fairways of Torrey Pines, everybody’s heard of Phil.

Back in the mid 1980′s, my friends and I would try to cure our golf fever by getting in a few holes here and there, whenever possible. Rarely having lots of spare time, let alone any spare cash, I’m not ashamed to admit that we had found a few secret spots scattered around town. Hidden jewels that, given the right time of the day (usually weekdays after work), would afford us an opportunity to ‘sneak on’ and play a few holes.

Always looking for the perfect gap in the groups while continually keeping our eyes peeled for the dreaded Marshalls Cart, blending in was as much an art as it was a science.

One such day stands out as being just a bit more special than some of the others. Balboa Golf Course, a City owned municipal course right in the middle of town, is set up in such a way to where the front nine sends you out to the furthest edge of the property and then back towards the Clubhouse as you round the turn, right around the eighth or ninth hole.

As we made our way down the trail to hide out among the trees at the back of the Tee Box on No. 4, things were looking good as far as an opening was concerned. The groups were beginning to thin out because by this time in the afternoon, it was impossible to get in eighteen holes, let alone nine which meant that they’d be stranded way out on the far end of the course just about the time it got dark. This lead to a long, cold drive back to the Clubhouse in the dark, something not many were up for.

It was around this time that the Starter would let the High School Team tee off on the 1st hole and walk as many holes as they could get in. Seemed as if they were allowed to practice pretty much every afternoon, Monday thru Friday. At least during the school year. There were about three or four foursomes of them so no problem letting them go by. Heck, they certainly had more right to be there than we did, that’s for sure. HA!

Not that my buddies and I were any good but we always played the Blue Tees. We wanted to experience all the course had to offer, definitely wanted to get our moneys worth. The High School Team also played from the Blues. No surprise there, they wanted their moneys worth as well.

So as we sat on the bench, waiting for our opening to materialize, the last of the High School groups walk up to the tee box and we give them the signal to go ahead and play through. Not sure who was more nervous, them or us. They didn’t want to look like hacks when they tee’d off, figuring we MUST know how to play if we’re on the blue tees and we didn’t want to get busted for sneakin’ on. Oh, the anxiety of it all!

Keeping in mind that these kids were about ten years younger than we were, we weren’t too worried about them schoolin’ us. As I mentioned, we could hit it OK back then so no worries. At least not until this tall, lanky kid walked up to the tee. My only thought was C’mon, hurry up and hit it before another group comes up and we lose our turn.

Then, it gets even weirder. This kid ended up standing on the wrong side of the ball. Yep, a Lefty. Up to this point I don’t think any of us had actually seen a left handed set of golf clubs, let alone a real, live golfer that could actually use them. Like a goofy footed surfer, the whole thing just seemed so wrong.

Yet, right in front of us stood this kid and I’ll be the first to admit that I kinda felt sorry for him. I mean, golf is hard enough from the right side of the ball but it’s gotta be nearly impossible to play from the wrong side. How was he ever going to enjoy this brutal game swinging left handed, let alone be any good? Then he swung….and EVERYTHING changed!

No. 4 is a rather long (seemed like it at the time anyway), narrowish par four and to be honest, up to that point I’d never seen a tee shot hit that far on that hole. EVER! It started out low, rising slightly as it rocketed forward until it fell to the grass, landing soft as a feather. SWEET!

My buddies and I looked at each other, none of us saying a word. As they left the tee, we all mumbled under our breath in unison, “Holy Crap, did you see that?” Which of course we had. I mean, how could you miss it? You don’t see shots like that everyday. Especially not at Balboa and for sure not from some high school kid standing on the wrong side of the ball. Yet, there it was. Well, actually it was so far out there we could hardly see it but we still knew it was out there somewhere.

Yep, you guessed it. That was the first time I’d ever seen Phil Mickelson hit a golf ball and it no doubt left some kind of an impression on me. So much so that it seems as if it was yesterday. None of us said another word until they were far enough in front of us so as not to hear us. Heck, we were pretty much speechless at that point. We proceeded to tee off, knowing full well that we had just been put in our place. Schooled by a high schooler and I gotta admit, it didn’t feel good. We obviously had a lot to learn about the game of golf. With our tails tucked neatly between our legs, we forged ahead with a new respect for the Pros out there actually making a living playing this game.

I’ve seen Phil play at a few different tournaments since then, Torrey Pines, La Costa, even Riviera and he never ceases to impress. He’s a true gentleman, both on and off the course.

So to see him take control of his game and control of The Masters Tournament last Sunday was truly a thing of beauty. Nobody handed the Green Jacket to him, he took it! He EARNED IT! He played the best he’s played in quite some time and nobody deserved to win it more than he did.

Add to it everything that he and his beautiful wife Amy, his Mother Mary, his entire family has had to endure over this past year and in my book there couldn’t be a more deserving champion. Congratulatiions Phil, Absolutely ‘AMY’zing!

If you can relate to the game of golf, the mental toughness required and the drive to chase your burning desires and to never give up, despite the odds not being in your favor, I’d enjoy hearing your thoughts in the comment box below. If you know of anyone that might enjoy this post I’d appreciate it if you’d share it with them. Thank you.

(This post was originally written on April 12, 2010 but in the interest of keeping my Blog more uniform, I have recently been updating all of my posts to reflect the new format. While the layout itself has changed, the text itself remains for the most part unchanged.)

It’s just another one of those dreaded must do things that we all have to go through, at least those of us lucky enough to own a car. Yep, it’s time for another oil change. The little sticker up in the corner of the windshield, left there about three or four thousand miles ago by the previous oil changer, says I’m (over) due so it must be true.

Time to begin rearranging our schedules in an attempt to squeeze it in, somewhere between everything else we have to do during our hectic weekly routine.

Oh, somehow we’ll fit it in, we always do. After all, we know that changing our cars engine oil is a big part of maintaining our vehicles and keeping our warranty in good standing. The penalty for not keeping up with proper maintenance could mean expensive repairs, beggin’ for rides from friends and neighbors or even worse, waitin’ for the Bus in the middle of summer! None of those are too appealing, to say the least.

Ok, so who’s gonna be the lucky one to do the work? Some of us can do it ourselves. Warm it up, pull it into the garage (carport), jack it up and start draining the oil.

Careful though, that oil is HOT! And so is the oil filter, which should also be replaced. Then, after all that you’re stuck with an old oil filter and about six or seven quarts of black goo that needs to go to the recycler.

That’s if you aren’t wearing half of it in your hair, down your arms and back or heaven forbid, didn’t have a mini BP Gulf Disaster all over your garage floor and driveway.

Most of us have come to learn that all this mechanic’n stuff is better left to those with the proper facilities and tools to best handle such a task. Not to mention those that enjoy getting greasy.

Option #2, you can always go to one of those EZ Jiffy Quicky Pronto Lubification establishments. Surely they can handle the job. Only problem is that sometimes they tend to get you in the door with that giant teaser sign blowin’ in the wind out front. “Today only, from 11am to 11:15am, only $19.95 for an oil change, including 6 quarts of oil and filter. Does not include blah blah blah….” only to find out that it’s gonna cost you about five times that much by the time they release your car.

Sure, you have every right to be skeptical. Somehow you always get bitten by the fine print. That damn fine print. They make it so small that even a mouse with reading glasses couldn’t read it.Then, if you really want to embarass yourself, you’ll get all gutsy and ask them exactly what the fine print says. It’s not that you don’t trust them, it’s just that you want to know exactly what your options are.

“Oh, the fine print? All it says is that if your car takes an extra drop of oil to bring it up to the correct level, we won’t add it. We won’t put a new gasket on the drain plug when we reinstall it. Heck, we won’t even guarantee that we WILL reinstall it. If your car happens to blow up just after you leave because our ASEBGFD nonCertified Mechanic forgot to put oil back in your engine after he drained it, we’re not at all liable. Little insignificant stuff like that. Nothing to worry about, I’m sure none of that stuff will have any affect on you.”

Jeez, that’s alot to take into consideration. But knowing that none of that would ever actually happen in real life, you decide to go for it. Heck, everybody likes a good deal, just too hard to pass up. So you go ahead and sign on the dotted line, knowing you’re in good hands. Oh, sorry, that’s Allstate. Well, it’s car related anyway.

Weird thing is is that just about the time you put the pen down, your car is being hoisted up on the rack! How on earth did they know you were going to give them the go ahead for the oil change?

Oh, these guys are slick! Absolute magicians I tell you. Hope they’re as quick with the oil change as they were at getting the car hoisted up because I’ve got lot’s of errands to run today.

With your car safely up on the rack, you can begin to relax a little. So you grab the latest (ok, 3 months old, greasy finger prints everywhere and every page wrinkled) issue of Slick ‘n’ EZ Oil Changer magazine off the dusty table and settle down into the greasy orange vinyl covered chair and begin to peruse all the latest news in the oil change industry.

KABLAM! What the hell was that? Startled, you peer out through the Customer Connection window and you see ‘Sammy Certification’ fishing around in the drain bucket in an attempt to retrieve the wrench that he just dropped.

Then, with a resounding GOT IT, you see that his arm is half covered in oil but thankfully he found the wrench. Good thing it wasn’t the drain plug, that would have been much tougher to find. Like finding a needle in an oily as hell haystack, no fun at all.

Just as you turn your head back to the magazine, you hear a faint kerplunk. NO, tell me that didn’t just happen! Tell me it’s not what I think it is. Tell me it’s not my drain plug that just fell in the drain bucket.

Yep, you guessed it. As you return your focus to the oil change bay, you see both of the mechanics legs flailing around in the air. He’s upside down in the bucket, scowering around in the bottom for your drain plug. I guess they never taught him about using a magnet on a retractable rod in ASEBGFD School.

“FOUND IT!!!” Just about everybody in the entire place, especially all the customers jumped for joy at the same time. At this point we’re all pretty much like family. We’re all hoping that each of our experiences turns out to be a pleasant one.

Phew, glad that’s over. I’d hate to imagine how much losing that drain plug would have cut into my errand running time. I can only hope the gasket is still attached, otherwise that could be a nightmare in itself.

Like a river of mud, the oil continues to blurble out of the oil pan. That’s about the time I realize how glad I am that I’m not laying on the hot asphalt, changing the oil myself. Good thing I let the experts handle it. Ok, now I can get back to the magazine.

All of a sudden, this pimply faced kid in a bluish brown shirt peers around the corner of the doorway. My first thought is How can my car be ready so soon? My second thought is, it can’t be ready that soon and so it’s just about that time that I begin to hope and pray that he’s looking for somebody else.

Nope, he’s eyeballin’ ME and I have a feelin’ it’s not gonna be good. Then comes the bad news. “Uh, Mr. Smith, while we were draining your oil we noticed a couple other items that require your immediate attention. Can you please follow me? I’d like to show you what we found.”

“Jeez, I only came in for a cheap oil change, I never asked you guys to check anything else.” And his response to me was “I realize that Mr. Smith but we feel it’s our duty to inform all of our loyal customers of any pending danger related to their automobiles as we would never want anything to happen to them or their vehicles. Above all else, safety is our number one concern here at EZ Jiffy Quicky Pronto Lubrification Centers and it’s in everyones best interest that we do all we can to keep our customers safe at all cost. I’m sure you understand.”

“Huh, understand? You pretty much lost me at duty to inform. Ok, let’s go take a look. I’m sure you’re right, better safe than sorry. I mean, after all, how much extra could it be, right?”

Following the mechanic outside, the words at all cost begin to swim around in my head. As far as I know, I’m the one that’s going to be paying at all cost and no doubt that’s in their best interest.

“Take a look here, you can see that your Muffler Bearings are completely shot. Heck they’re almost falling off. And take a look right here, your Johnson Rod has a big ol’ crack in it and it’s just about to break! Boy, you’re so lucky. You brought your car in just in time.”

“What exactly are you pointing to, I just don’t see anything wrong here? Matter of fact, I’ve never even heard of Muffler Bearings OR a Johnson Rod. Are you sure they’re going bad?”

“Oh yes sir, trust me, they’re going bad and you really should have them repaired right away to prevent any further damage to any other components that could possibly be interrelated to the damaged items that we previously mentioned.”

“Alright, let’s just say I did decide to have those fixed, how long would it take and even more importantly, how much extra is it gonna cost me?”

“Come on back inside and we’ll run some numbers.” As he begins his calculations my stomach begins to tighten up.  Mumbling under his breath I begin to see dollar signs in his eyes, not a good feeling. “Let’s see here, new Muffler Bearings, click, click, click, new Johnson Rod, click click, click, about nine hours Labor, click, click, click, that leaves us with a guesstimate of about $1281.56, plus tax. Oh, and that’s not including the $88.26 for the oil change. Keep in mind that this guesstimate is based on parts availability and those prices could go up dramatically if we find there have been any price increases that we are unaware of at the time of this guesstimate.”

“Also, please remember to keep in mind that due to our high demand for quality, we only use Factory parts. We don’t mess around with aftermarket parts here because as you know, safety is…”

“Yeah, Yeah, I KNOW! Safety is your thing! Got it! But that just seems outrageous for parts that I can’t even see are wrong, let alone that I’ve never even heard of and I’ve been around cars for quite some time.”

“Trust me Mr. Smith, we’d never steer you wrong. Get it? Steer You? That’s just a bit of EZ Jiffy humor. We like to keep things light ‘n’ easy around here. There’s more than enough stress in the world these days and the last thing we want to do is to add to it. Let’s just hope we don’t find anything else wrong with your car while we’re under there” (Yeah, let’s hope not…).

“The good news is it looks like your Radiator Springs are ok for now. We can go ahead and wait until your next oil change to replace those.”

As the steam begins to pour outta my ears, all I can think about is so much for the $19.95 oil change. And as far as the NEXT time, I don’t think so!

Which pretty much leaves us with option #3, the local Dealership. Home of honesty, integrity, quality and a job well done. Sure, all this comes at a higher price but you’re already aware of that going in.

Usually, along with that extra cost comes the comfort of knowing that the necessary extra repairs are truly legit (if you hear the words Muffler Bearings or Johnson Rod, get outta there fast!) and therefore it’s ok to pay a bit extra for that peace of mind and satisfaction of a job well done.

Well, recently a friend of mine was in the position of having to make all these decisions and came away with a very surprising result. She knew I wasn’t about to crawl under her car and change her oil so option #1 was crossed off the list immediately (I crossed it off myself).

Like most of us, she’s already experienced option #2 so that was no longer a viable alternative. That leaves option #3 and so she made an appointment at her local Dealership. She had some work done there previously and while it was sorta expensive, she was satisfied with the job that was done and heck, they even washed her car for her. Out of all her choices, she felt it was her best option.

She arrived about 15 minutes early as she didn’t want to miss her appointment. After standing around for about 20 minutes (so much for showing up early) she was finally approached by the Service Writer and asked for her information.

Her paperwork was filled out, quickly followed by “Please pour yourself a coffee and have a seat in our waiting room, should only take about an hour.” Made an appointment and still an hour for an oil change? Plus all the time waiting to get checked in. Oh well, at least it will be over with and done right.

About 15 minutes later a gentleman walks up with some paperwork in hand. Thinking to herself, done already, that’s great. Unfortunately he proceeds to inform her of a recalled item on her car that should be fixed at this time. Free of charge and it won’t take long.

“Ok, that’s fine” she replies and continues to sip on her coffee. That’s the beauty of being at the Dealership, they know about these things because their computer tells them about pending issues.

Time continues to tick by and another hour and a half later, her car is ready to go. Ok, so it took a little longer than expected and it costs a bit more in the long run than the other options but at least it comes with the satisfaction of a job well done.

“Ok, Ms. Jones (name changed to protect the innocent), please pay the Cashier and pick up your keys”. Hmmm, $110.00 for an oil change? Wow, that seems like alot more than last time but maybe the cost of a barrel of oil has gone up that much.

Remember, peace of mind has to cost something and they did repair that recalled item at no charge(?) so let’s just pay the Cashier and get outta here. “Thank you M’am, here are your keys and have a great day.” Off she went to pick up her car in the waiting zone.

Just as she was about to turn the key to start her car, she noticed something was out of place. “My Key Ring, my special key ring, it’s missing!” Now, the only reason she even noticed it was gone was because this was a gift from a friend and holds tremendous sentimental value to her.

Luckily she noticed it was missing before she left the Lot. Jumping out of her car, she headed for the Service Writers booth. “I want to see the Manager”. Once paged, he showed up immediately to resolve the issue. Calmly he exclaimed, “Oh, I’m sure this can easily be explained. Somehow it must have fallen off. I’m sure we can find it for you.”

Hmmm, it’s been on there for over a year but somehow it fell off today and no one knows where it is? Amazingly enough, with the Manager jumping on the hot line, a few choice words over the loud speaker and Voila, the lost key ring magically reappeared from the depths of the Dealership. Truly astounding, I think?

However, by this point the damage was already done. It wasn’t the $25 key ring itself, it’s the fact that the feeling of trust was gone. This put everything about the entire job into question.

What else did I have in the car that might be missing now? Sunglasses, change in the ashtray, did they really do all the work they said they did? OMG! Let the stress test begin!!

Needless to say, the Manager was very apologetic, even saying “The oil change is on the house and here’s a coupon for half off on your next oil change. I truly am sorry this happened.” Next oil change… here? I don’t care if it’s free, I don’t think so.

That bond had been broken, which can’t be repaired and all this over a key ring. Not that she was ever guaranteed to spend a fortune on repairs in the future but the point is now she will never spend another dollar at that Dealership.

Surely she would not consider buying another car there and if a friend ever asked for her recommendation on where to have repairs done or perhaps even to purchase a car, she can at least tell them where NOT to go.

Word of mouth and positive (or negative as well) referrals carry a ton of weight in todays world as people are very leary about being taken advantage of and fearful of letting go of their money in any type of monetary transaction.

While this unfortunate incident can not be attributed to the Dealership itself, unfortunately the actions of one individual has put the entire Dealership and all who work there under suspicion.

At the very least, they have lost one customer but in actuality it is impossible to guesstimate the true repercussions. And while you might say c’mon now, it was just a key ring! You’re right, It’s Just A Key Ring….but it encompasses so much more.

If you’ve had any type of similar experience with a car repair, I’d enjoy hearing about it. I always appreciate your comments and if you enjoyed reading this post, please pass it along to your friends. Thank you.

(This post was originally written on May 28, 2010 but in the interest of keeping my Blog more uniform, I have recently been updating all of my posts to reflect the new format. While the layout itself has changed, the text itself remains for the most part unchanged.)

How could six years have gone by already? Not six years of true sobriety but six years without alcohol nonetheless. Scary part is it seems like it was just yesterday that I had to walk away from one of my very best friends. Beer. Yessiree, Tuesday March 6th will be six years since I’ve been able to enjoy the wonderfulness of that magic elixur gracing my palette. That’s a fancy way of sayin’ gettin’ hammered.

Now, when I say one of my best friends, I mean just exactly that. I also had another very close buddy that for the most part was with me for my entire adult life. We first met when I was eighteen and pretty much stayed right by my side every day and night up until Aug. 2, 2006. Talk about a true friend. To say it was difficult to say goodbye to my little green buddy after all of those years is an understatement of vast proportions. But say goodbye I did.

Miss ‘em both? Not so much. Not nearly as much as I used to anyway, that’s for sure. I know they were both just using me, taking advantage of my weakness and vulnerability. Somehow they already knew what I was thinkin’, on the inside. Sure, I could yell and scream about how much I didn’t need either of them, which I did thousands of times but it never seemed to do any good. As it turns out, either they weren’t listening or they just didn’t give a damn.

Yep, with each and every score came the exact same words, “That’s it for me, after this one I’m done! I’m sick and tired of being sick and tired and I’ll never buy any of this crap ever again.” And no doubt I meant it too. At least for that moment. Yet in the back of my mind, as I heard myself saying the words, I would also have one of those out of body experiences as well. You know the kind, where you’re hovering above yourself, watching your lips move and doubting everything you’re sayin’. Without a doubt a bit unnerving to say the least.

While you want so badly to be able to live up to those words, knowing full well how many times you’ve said the very same thing before and never been able to live up to the promises you made to yourself brings in all kinds of doubt. But dammit, this time is going to be different!

Sure it is. Just like all the other times it was going to be different. And yet the very second the fridge was empty or the baggie for that matter, it was instant panic attack. Cue the excuses, all the self made reasons, the realistic rationalizations of just why you needed more.

Nobody likes to quit in the middle of the weekend, I’ll quit first thing Monday morning. Then before you know it Monday morning comes along and you begin thinking about what a stressful week of work lays ahead and so you know you’re gonna need something to get you through the week. OK then, just one more week and then it’s over and done. No more after that.

Next thing you know, it’s Friday, you just got off work and who in their right mind would ever attempt to quit before a weekend? That’s correct, nobody would even begin to attempt such madness. You’d have to be drunk or on drugs to even begin to think you could quit on a Friday. Therefore, why bother to set yourself up for failure. Why not just get through the weekend and first thing Monday morning you can get a fresh start to a brand new week. Kick in the mind rationalizer and the endless flow of reasoning begins and before you know it, you’re cleared for another mind bending weekend.

Of course, come Monday morning you remember all of the things that didn’t get accomplished at work last week which is only going to make the week ahead even more stressful. Not to mention all of the unexpected bills and all the other crap that you hadn’t planned on going wrong over the last week. How on earth are you supposed to be able to quit with that much stress hangin’ over your head? You’re right, there’s just no way. Nobody has a right to ask that much of you, least of all you.

Uh oh, one problem. One ultra huge problem. You’re out. On empty. Nada. Zip. How could this happen? Ohhh, that’s right. You quit last weekend, remember? You weren’t going to ever do it again and so why would you need more. At that point concentrating on work isn’t even an option. All you can think about is how the hell are you going to connect with your connect? You know, get some stuff.

As your head begins spinning, flashback after flashback begins to fill your brain. Remember how tough it was to get any last time? Wasn’t he going out of town for a few weeks at the start of the month? Was that this month? Damn that guy takes a lot of vacations. Shit, I’M paying for him to take those vacations! That’s it, I gotta quit. Hell, I can’t quit. It’s only Monday and I’ll never make it through ’till Friday without it. Cue the vicious cycle.

Just writing about this nightmare makes my stomach tighten up like it did all those years ago. As I sit here typing this now, looking at it from more of an outsiders perspective I wonder how in the hell I ever let myself get to the point of being a slave to anything like that. How could I have sank so low. It certainly wasn’t by choice. Or was it? I had the choice to stop any time I wanted. In fact the choice was entirely mine. Yet I wasn’t strong enough to make it. Complete fail on my part.

It was the same with beer. No matter how many times I got violently ill from drinking too much, no more than a day or two later and I was right back in there. Drinking was much more than a pastime for me. Much more than just a habit. It was a lifestyle. A lifestyle I had lived since I was eighteen. Drinking was synonymous with beach living, the two went hand in hand. Regardless of where you were, you could find somebody drinking at every hour of the day and night.

Partying was in essence flyin’ your freedom flag, something to brag about. If you weren’t hammered, you weren’t cool. If you couldn’t handle barfing all morning only to come back drinking again that afternoon, you weren’t cool. Looking back on those days now I’m thinkin’ that kind of cool was without a doubt overrated.

I’m also thinkin’ what a loser I was. Had I been able to stay sober long enough to take a good look, perhaps I would have realized it but that never happened. And to be honest, the more I think about it the more I believe that’s the only way I would’ve been able to see it is as I do now would have been from a sober viewpoint. Looking at it from the perspective of being my former life. The old me. I’d like to think I’ve made huge strides since then in both improving myself as well as my life.

Although if you know anything about what’s been going on in my life over these last few years you might be thinking how on earth can he say that his life has improved? He’s lost just about everything, majorly in debt, basically homeless and broke. How on earth can that be better?

Well, there’s one huge difference in my life now as compared to back then. For at least the last ten years of my former life I had become so disappointed in myself, so let down by my own lack of effort at creating a better lifestyle that I wanted to kill myself. There wasn’t a day that went by that I didn’t think about it, knowing that I had no future. Nothing to look forward to, nothing to hope for. At that point all I was doing was existing, day to day and just barely at that. Mentally anyway.

Sure, I had a bit more money than I have now. I was able to pay my bills a bit easier and I was like 90% of everybody else out there, living check to check. But I was getting by. And therein lies the problem. All I was doing was getting by. And just barely at that. Which was nowhere near my potential. Nobody had to tell me I was a failure, I already knew it in my heart as well as in my mind. I pretty much sucked at being a productive person.

The fact that for the most part I didn’t really care about my future was just icing on the cake. I mean, why should I? I was living day to day, only looking far enough ahead to survive each day. And when each day is filled with misery, there’s not a whole bunch to look forward to.

That’s the biggest difference between then and now. Even though I’m starting from a much lower rung on the ladder, at least I’m looking up and not straight down like I used to be. I’m looking up and forward. Forward towards a better life as opposed to finding a way to call it quits while maintaining a bit of dignity. So that just has to be an improvement of some sort.

So congratulations to me, even if I have to say it to myself. I have come so much further in my sobriety than I ever thought possible. Back in my heyday I couldn’t have imagined going six days without some type of synthetic attitude adjustment, let alone six years.

No, I’m not where I want to be in life. Not even close but I can see the possibility … no, let me rephrase that. I can see the probability of it happening and that’s a huge difference. I can see a better future, a better life where once there was no chance of that happening.

So at the end of the day, am I happy I chose sobriety over my previous lifestyle? Yes I am. I know that things I’ve been dealing with over these last few years would have only been multiplied had I continued on my path of self destruction. And with that I would like to add that to anyone else out there that might find themselves in a similar situation, just hang in there and keep fighting. Despite what you might be thinking, there is a way out and it truly does get better.

Me and sobriety. Who’d have ever thought we’d make such a great team. Certainly not me, that’s for sure. I was always too cool for sobriety but not anymore. As it turns out, sobriety is pretty cool after all.

If you can relate to the long journey to sobriety I’d enjoy hearing your thoughts in the Comment box below and if you know anyone who might enjoy this post I’d appreciate it if you’d share it with them. Thank you.

I have decided to give an introduction of sorts, a way of introducing myself to my readers. While this may seem a bit out of sequence, as I have already created a few posts, I still feel it may help others to relate to who I am, where I came from and how the heck I ended up here. When I say here, I mean here as in writing my own Blog. As they say, better late than never.

I was born in The O.C. Anaheim, Ca. to be more precise. Way back when the only thing that stood out above the endless rows of orange trees was the Matterhorn. Yes, I grew up a few miles from Disneyland and boy was I grateful for Grandma and Grandpa. The priceless memories that I still carry to this day of all those wonderful trips to D-Land, zooming down The Matterhorn, shuffling through The Haunted House, floating through the Pirates of the Caribbean, The Submarine Rides and of course, one of my all time faves, the electric cars of Autopia. Mario Andretti had nothin’ on me as that is where I most assuredly honed my driving skills.

Even at 5 years old, I never lost control of the car, never strayed off the track and most definitely never got a speeding ticket. Matter of fact, no matter how hard I mashed down on the gas pedal, I couldn’t fail. You can only imagine how my self confidence skyrocketed with each and every lap and even though I got to know every curve and straightaway intimately, for some reason I still couldn’t improve my lap times.

It wasn’t until a few years later that I came to realize that the cars were guided by a center rail and that the top speed was also governed(mechanically limited), therefore I was limited to a top speed of about 2mph! And all those years I thought I was a supreme driver, yearning to take on A.J. Foyt only to later learn that it was some pimple faced kid in a light blue Polo shirt, waiting for me at the Finish Line who was actually in control. Oh, the disappointment.

Yet that feeling of despair was nothing compared to opening up your ticket ‘book’, only to find that you were out of ‘E’ Tickets. In those days there were no mile long lines to wait in. Each ride was designated by a specific letter, A’s, B’s, C’s, D’s and E’s and each book came with an assortment of various tickets. Unfortunately all of the best rides required E Tickets (from which the saying E Ticket Ride was derived) and so you had to be very careful when choosing which rides you really wanted to go on.

Of course we always tried to save one E ticket for last because you knew darn well that when you ran out of E’s, your day was done and you might as well pack it in because you’re going home.

In fact even to this day, when I reflect back on seeing that the E Tickets had indeed run out, that empty feeling comes flooding back to the pit of my stomach. Time for the long walk back to the parking lot. I’m sure by that point in the day Grandma and Grandpa were pretty much done watching us having fun and were more than ready to drop us off at home, yet they never showed it. Come to think of it, I wonder if they ever hid any E tickets from us, knowing that was the trigger for the day to end? I can never thank them enough for all those memories.

Through the years our family moved around Los Angeles but never left So. Cal. I spent most of my childhood racing Motocross, what a blast. That’s me in the B & W photo below, tallest in back with the long hair @ about 8 or 9 years old. Everybody had long hair back then, you had to have your hair hanging out of your helmet when you raced or you just weren’t cool. That’s my sister to my left and a few of my first cousins in the front row. Some might recognize the little guy standing in front of me, seemingly picking his nose. That’s my cousin Jason. Nowadays most people know him better as Earl on the TV show, “My Name Is Earl.” Yeah, he’s a bit taller now and he’s got a mustache so no need to mess with the nose as much.

Through High School my friends and I spent alot of weekends at the beach, one of the best parts of growing up in So. Cal. I graduated at sixteen so I couldn’t really take off at that point but when I FINALLY turned eighteen I moved to San Diego along with a few of my friends.

In 1979, San Diego was SO much different than it is now. While still incredibly beautiful, back then there was no traffic to speak of, only a few TV Stations to choose from and the beaches were in essence wide open. For the most part you could pull over along the Coast Highway anywhere or anytime you desired. In fact you could spend the night in your car if you wanted to, which of course we did from time to time.

I had a few miscellaneous jobs here and there, basically whatever it took to get by but mainly I was a beach bum. Yes, I admit it. I should have done so much more with my life and while I surely regret it, there’s nothing I can do about it now so life goes on.

Then I got involved with Boats and I stuck with that for quite a few years. I ended up discovering the wonderful game of golf in the mid to late 80′s and really began to enjoy it. So much so that I left my job and went to work at a local Country Club in hopes of pursuing a job as a Teaching Pro. After a few years of that I came to my senses, realizing that I would never make any money at it and so I went back to Boats. At this point I was living in Mission Beach and with boats being such a big part of San Diego I felt there would always be plenty of work.

I continued working with Boats until the end of ’05. I have a little house up in the High Desert near Joshua Tree National Park that I would visit on the weekends and tinker around with small projects, I absolutely love it up there. So much so in fact that some weekends I found myself not wanting to go back to San Diego. Well, to be honest a lot of that was just not wanting to go back to work either.

While still beautiful, San Diego had become so over crowded and add to that the fact that I was basically fed up with my job as well as other aspects of my life and so after all those years spent in Americas Finest City, I decided to leave the town I loved so much and move out to Joshua Tree full time.

I had been involved with old cars for many years, more specifically Woodies (old wooden bodied station wagons) and the Woodie Clubs and so in June of ’06 I loaded up the Woodie (Beverly Hillbillies style) and drove the 150 miles to Joshua. Tree, that is. The land of the Joshua Tree Cactus, endless starry nights and many many rocks.

Talk about a change. I went from a bustling town of millions to a town of about 150 people. And only one of ‘em was a woman and more than likely she was married to her brother. YIKES! That’s not a good sign for a single guy that spent most of his adult life living at the beach in San Diego, surrounded by endless women. Not to say I could pull any of them but they sure were nice to look at, that’s for sure.

Now I found myself living in a place where there was nothing to look at but cactus, the beautiful rocks and oh yeah, the stars at night. Not quite the same thing. Yet at first it was great. I loved the slower pace, wide open spaces and the peace and quiet. Not to mention the views of the National Park are absolutely amazing.

Unfortunately after about 8 months of this peace and quiet I started to go a little (ok, a lot!) stir crazy. Add to that the fact that I had also decided to quit drinking around this same time, which wasn’t helping matters either and so I knew I better find something to keep myself occupied. I had to come up with a new career anyway and that in itself would surely keep me focused and staying busy.

Hmmm, what would it be? I didn’t want to get involved in another basic ’9 to 5′ job, that much I knew for sure. I had always wanted to get my Real Estate License and so I decided what the heck, no better time to do it and so I began studying. Passed the Exam in October and finally received my R.E. License in December of ’06. I had a few friends that were local Agents and so I started working with them.

I soon began to realize that I was trying to promote properties that I myself wasn’t passionate about nor would I want to own. Therefore it was difficult for me to get excited about the possibility of selling it to someone else. I have this weird thing where I feel a need to be honest and forthright and to continually tell people that orange shag carpet was the hot new trend just wasn’t gonna work for me.

So I ended up signing with a Broker in the lower desert near Palm Springs. I had always wanted to sell high end Golf Course properties and no better place to do that than in the Coachella Valley. The land of endless swimming pools and over 130 Golf Courses. So I began commuting daily to my office in Rancho Mirage, some 70+ miles each way and it began to get old in a hurry.

It quickly became apparent that it was time for another life changing decision. So I sold my Woodie (my last tie with San Diego, I cried when it left) and bought a Condo in La Quinta. I also changed offices at the same time which cut down tremendously on my drive time. Things were really lookin’ up for me at that point. I was finally, after so many years of hesitation, beginning to live a life of my choosing which truly felt wonderful.

I lived in La Quinta up until the end of June ’09. Yep, you guessed it. As it turns out, I bought my Condo the day before the RE Market came to a screeching halt. I’m kinda lucky like that. And as home values declined, so did any RE business to speak of and as such I had to come to the realization that it was time to let my Condo go. Which was truly a shame as I had vacationed in that very same Condo some 12 years earlier, fell in love with it and vowed to myself that I would someday own it. So not only was I losing the roof over my head, it also signaled the end of a dream. All my hopes and dreams washed away.

It wasn’t just the money I lost, I was losing my dream Condo (as well as a few other properties I had purchased). I was finally living in a place of my own that I loved and I couldn’t wait to get going with my new career. In the blink of an eye (or damn close to it anyway) everything came tumbling down.

Needless to say, I ended up losing both my Condo as well as my career. Might as well throw my Mojo on the loss pile as well because it pretty much went right out the door with everything else.

Which left me searching for something else that I am truly passionate about. I know I’m most definitely not cut out to work a regular job. Nope, no 9 to 5 for me. I did it long enough for me to know it’s not who I am. Not even close.

I’m kinda in limbo right now, living with a friend until I can figure out a new game plan, a new direction with a new set of goals. As far back as I can remember I’ve wanted to be a writer. Even as far back as Elementary school, I always enjoyed writing short stories. So who knows, maybe all of this has happened to allow me the freedom to move on, to do something I’m truly passionate about. To become a published author. Who knows, crazier things have happened.

So, that’s pretty much me in a (big) nutshell. I’m done with looking back and I never again want to wonder ‘what if’. The past is the past, there’s nothing I can do about it now and who knows what the future holds. I just have to move forward with a new goal, a new vision, a new dream.

Perhaps I’ll finally be able to travel the world, see all the beautiful things it has to offer and maybe even figure out some way to be able to turn my life and my adventures in to my latest Novel. At this point, the world is my oyster and I can’t wait to open it up to find the beautiful pearl inside.

If you can relate to unwanted life changes and working your way back from nothing, I’d enjoy hearing your thoughts in the Comment box below and if you know anyone who might enjoy this post I’d appreciate it if you’d share it with them. Thank you.

(This post was originally written on September 21, 2009 but in the interest of keeping my Blog more uniform, I have recently been updating all of my posts to reflect the new format. While the layout itself has changed, the text itself remains for the most part unchanged.)