Sayonara, solitaire! I've found the most awesome (that's "pawsome" to you, Bailey) new way to dribble away my life. It's called "Blendoku" It's sudoku but with color. I love color. I mean, I REALLY love color. How much do I love color? I love color so much that when we go to Home Depot style big box stores, if Jane and I get separated, she always knows where to look for me: in front of the paint chip displays. I confess, I've even brought home paint chips with no intention of painting anything. That was before I discovered color decks. Whole flip-out pages of colors! I love color so much that...well, here, this should make it pretty obvious. (I love Photoshop, too.)(Check out "waves" while you're there.)(Speaking of iPads, it won't show up, it's Flash.)
So, Blendoku. I've been staring at colors (even better because they're pixels, not just color, but colored light!) and I'm pretty sure it's had a profoundly therapeutic effect. I'm more tranquillo than I've been since October 18th, 2011 (a.k.a. the day we moved onto JOY). And with my newfound equanimity has come clarity, and with clarity, a profound insight. Here it is, ready?
I am more than the sum of my (boat) parts.(I set it off as a blockquote to underscore how profound it is.) For more than 18 months, "a guy with a broken-down boat that he has no idea how to fix" has been my only identity. It has defined me. And it has been an identity that has brought me no pride or joy. But never once--until Blendoku came into my life--did it occur to me to step back from my situation and remember that living on JOY is what I do, not who I am.
So, there. New Rule: "Don't let it define you." And here's what that means to you. No more awful (Bailey: "pawful") posts about how hapless we are in the face of our incessant equipment failures. Everybody who lives on a boat has 'em. That I'm still as clueless about how to repair anything as I was at the beginning is no one's fault but mine and, in truth, I'm alright with that. Trying to understand manuals is just as unfun as living with broken somethings, so why compound the problem, I say. We cope. It's what we do. And coping, I must say, has just gotten a whole lot easier now that color has come back into my life.