“Your tip, huh. Gee whiz, that is really too bad.”
I figured we were done on that random topic but she wasn’t stopping. No, she slapped her palms on the sloshy metal table covered in soggy beer coasters and squeezed lemon wedges, leaned her head in real close to mine, and popped her eyes out like a B-grade horror-movie actress who’d just been axed in the back.
“You know, the tip of my pumpkin pie. He ate the tip of my pumpkin pie! He knows I love tips. I always talk about tips and he just stole it from me. He ate that perfect, delicious triangle at the front of my dessert. I was so mad!”
And then I suddenly got it.
Tips.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa . . . what’d you do?” I asked, suddenly sucked into this escalating tale of sugar robbery.
“Oh, you want to know what I did? I’ll tell you what I did. I ate the tip of every single piece of pie left in the dish. There were seven left and I just scarfed seven delicious tips!”
Now, this really got my attention. What a feisty little nibbler, I thought. Some dude jokingly stabs his fork in her dessert and suddenly lightning bolts flicker in her eyes, her teeth start grinding, and her lips curl into a dark clownish smile.
I kind of liked it.
Frankly, we all did. Yes, we all laughed at Tara’s tipeating rampage that sunny afternoon and realized that, well, come on, tips are great. I mean, let’s think about it for a second here:10. Slice of pizza. Bubbly cheese, crispy pepperoni corners, and tiny drips of hot orange oil swirl around at the center of the pie. It’s the nucleus of the pizza and the core of all taste. There’s no danger of uneven sauce coverage here and the crust is nice and thin. Plus, if you’re lucky, you could score a cheese dangle, which involves your pizza tip using the power of the melt to snag excess toppings from a nearby slice. And hey, if your tip is the one getting robbed of toppings here, no worries. You just scrape up bits of cheese and sausage from the rest of the box and toss it on top. Everybody wins.
9. The top swirl of a soft-serve cone. Folks in the business know it’s an art creating those delicate curls on the top of cones. It’s the baby nibble of the cone and a nice tease for the next few minutes. Most of the way down you’re licking and biting your ice cream, so that top swirly tip is a yummy appetizer.
8. Quiche. If you’re in the game for this one, I’m guessing you love that chunky broccoli, salty ham, fluffy egg, and oily crust combo at the front of your slice. Très yummy, yes pas?
7. First crispy nacho from the top of the tower. Full-size triangle chip with crisp corners, bubbly cheese, and little salsa puddles, waiting innocently for you to dive in. This here’s the tip of the nachoberg.
6. Diagonally sliced grilled cheese tips. This is when you cut your grilled cheese into four triangles instead of two halves in order to increase your tip quotient. Also works for toast. (Note: Although this tip is man-made it still counts under current Tips law.)
5. First sip from a cold bottle of soda or beer. This is the liquid tip and when the first ice-cold bubbles touch your lips after a long Friday it’s a refreshing bliss.
4. Margarine tub. There’s something beautiful about stabbing your knife into the belly button of margarine after you open the new container. You got there first and have now officially claimed the tub. Feel free to carve in your initials too.
3. Watermelon slice tips. Dig your face in there and eat as loud and slurpy as possible. For bonus points do this on a beach picnic table with piles of laughing kids in front of a slowly setting sun.
2. A giant slab of cheese sitting on a tray somewhere. I don’t bump into fancy cheese trays very often, but once in a while I’ll spot one at a New Year’s Eve party and suddenly come face-to-face with that untouched tip of rock-hard cheddar or melty Brie.
1. Cakes. We saved the best for last. As those tall, wobbly cheesecake towers arrive at your table or you delicately carve out a thick slab of birthday cake at a party, we both know you’re eyeing that delicious triangle right up front. And look at it sugar-shining in the light just waiting for you. It’s practically saluting and pledging allegiance to your mouth.
So, people, come on. Let’s all hold hands here today and remember the many great tips we’ve enjoyed over the years.
Smile at all those delicious first bites and first sips that surprised your tongue and teased your taste buds with hints of what’s to come.
Love tips, love bites, love tips, love life.
AWESOME!
Driving around with the windows down on late summer nights
Kids cruise on wobbly bikes, toddlers race on tipsy trikes, and you drift deep into the hot summer night. Swerve and curve on windy roads as darkness slowly falls and stars pop out to reveal a twinkly twilight glow. As you hit the gas and drop your windows, the warm beating rush of summer air makes you smile and makes everything else in the world just fade away ... fade away ... fade away ... fade away ... fade away . . .
AWESOME!
Do Nothing Days
It’s like a mirage.
You see that distant Do Nothing Day coming up on the horizon of your kitchen calendar. You stare at its white squarey blankness beckoning you closer and closer and closer. Time moves forward, days march on, and still nothing gets planned on that beautifully perfect patch of nothingness. No homework, no dinner dates, no sports practices, no visiting mates. It’s just you and you sharing a nice peaceful moment of alone time.
When you’re lucky enough to score a Do Nothing Day, do yourself a favor and do nothing. Give your brain a break and slip into the easy bliss of lying in crumpled sheets, taking a long bath, and ordering out for dinner. Ditch the guilt while you swing in a hammock, cuddle with your cat, or curl up on the couch in front of the TV.
Once in a while it’s good to enjoy a completely unproductive daydreamy day with a slow smile and no worries.
You earned it.
AWESOME!
A good turnout on your birthday
Everybody gets born.
One day you popped into the world a tiny ball of crying wet nakedness and every year since then we’ve all stopped to celebrate your big day. Birthdays freeze time as you stare back at last year and get ready to celebrate what’s coming around the bend ...
When you’re little . . .
There’s a buzz in your bones as your entire class revs up for the Saturday-afternoon screamfest at your place. Flashy invites are handed out, RSVPs are phoned in mom to mom, and loot bags are filled with plastic jewelry as the day approaches.
Soon doorbells bing-bong and your basement becomes a rowdy room of snot-nosed three-footers playing duck-duckgoose, usually with a little girl in baggy thick white stockings and a boy with a huge root beer stain on his crotch.
Next it’s time to unwrap presents and everyone stares with wide eyes as you shred wrapping paper to unveil a new red truck, some video games, and authentically pooping dolls. Then mom comes around the corner with a glowing neon green cake and everyone screams “Happy Birthday” under paper party hats and dim lights ...
When you’re growing . . .
Online invites fly around to help plan a big night with your friends. Flashy outfits are yanked from the closet, loud music starts banging, and drinks are poured at the bar ...
Suddenly you’re a rock star flashing smiles, kissing cheeks, posing for blurry photos with big toothy grins and icy model stares. Tiaras are placed on your head, shots are stuffed in your hands, and your ass gets slapped by old and new friends as all your circles mix together in a boozy dish ...
When you’re older . . .
Dressed up and surrounded by family you smile and blow out a cake full of candles before staring up at a hall full of everyone you know clapping and singing before your sharply dressed son gives a toast to your life ...
When you’re going . . .
As you stare at the flickering candle in the center of a small cake, your brain washes past grainy images of six-year-olds at bowling alleys, smashing piñatas in parks, and dancing till the lig
hts come up at the bar. You remember unwrapping a new bike, swapping secrets at sleepovers, and stealing kisses with new flames. You remember breakfasts in bed, your first birthday as a family, and getting socks from the kids every year for a decade ...
Then you weakly blow out the thin candle before lying back in your flimsy nightgown in the white hospital bed. You stare up at your wife, who has tears in her eyes, and she smiles as you rest one of your fragile hands in hers ... and the other in your grandson’s, who stares up at you with wide eyes and a brand new red truck in his hand.
AWESOME!
The Airport Pickup
It’s terrible trying to figure out how to get somewhere in a city you’ve never been before. Strange bus routes, new taxi systems, and mazes of complex maps welcome you to your business trip, weekend getaway, or family vacation.
As you arrive at the busy airport you’re confronted by a sea of steaming faces. Baggage pickups are packed, customs desks have lines, and you’re scrambling to keep your head together as you get your bearings and worry about making time.
That’s why it’s beautiful when someone you love picks you up at the airport. Yes, when your teenage grandson, old college roommate, or church choir pal offers to rescue you from the insanity it’s a beautiful scene.
When you spot them waiting for you it’s time to drop that suitcase, bug those eyes, and run with your backpack bouncing on your shoulders into a beautiful airport hug. For just a moment everything fades to a distant background blur as you’re picked up by an old friend in a new place ...
AWESOME!
When your pet notices you’re in a bad mood and comes to see you
Everybody hurts, sometimes.
Relationships fritz and fizzle, bad moods steam and sizzle, and we all have moments when all we want to do is curl up under a blanket until it all goes away.
In tearstained moments of blackness, when the weight of the world hangs heavy, there’s nothing as sweet as a furry fourfooted friend noticing your mood and coming over for a snuggle.
So let your dog curl into your lap or your cat stare straight into your eyes, and sniff back those hot salty tears.
AWESOME!
Appreciating the beauty of all your body’s scars and scratches
My friend Joey got his face ripped off last year.
Yeah, while staring at his cheek in the mirror a few months back he noticed a small rubbery bump below the surface of his skin. Few months, few phone calls, few appointments later he found himself under the knife in a five-hour surgery getting a chestnut-sized tumor slowly untied and airlifted out of a knotty nest of nerves in a high-stakes game of Operation.
Thankfully he’s okay and he’s all better and he’s managed to bounce over a pretty bumpy hill in life. We were all pretty nervous but he’s come out clean on the other side.
Plus, now he’s got a crazy scar from his ear down to his neck to show for it.
And sure, over the years the stitches will drop out, hair might grow over, and the lines on his face could slowly fade away. But he’s really got a reminder every day of how lucky he is to be alive. He added some dents and scratches to his life story.
And unless you’re a baby-powder-smelling ball of smooth skin and giggles, I’m betting your flesh and bones is covered with some gashes, scratches, scabs, and stains too.
Maybe it’s that fleshy scar on your hand from the eighthgrade fistfight. You were on the bus back from shop class throwing pockets of sawdust around when tempers flared and a couple headlocks later you tripped and hit the ground.
Maybe it’s the ghost of that Giant Zit of ’97 on your forehead. Did you squeeze it too hard before prom and end up with a bad cover-up job? If so, maybe you can still find your old friend in that photo album, wedged tightly between updos, wrist corsages, and freshly pressed tuxes.
Maybe it’s a blurry tattoo you got with distant friends you don’t speak to anymore. You were young, you were graduating, you wanted a memento of getting through a tough year together. And you got it.
It’s the zippery line up your groin from the hernia, the tingly bump in your collarbone from the monkey bars, or the big birthmark on your back you’ve hidden under bathing suits for years.
But whatever yours are, wherever yours are, and however you got them, one thing’s for sure: Your bumps and scratches are part of your life and part of your story. They’re part of your lows ... and part of your glories. They’re memories of bad decisions and reminders of good ones. And they all come together in a nicely wrapped package that we like to call ... you.
See, we’re all a bit bent, we’re all a bit busted, we’re all a bit broken, we’re all a bit rusted. Underneath all the crinkly jeans and wrinkly shirts are beautifully personal collections of hairy legs, zippery scars, and spotty skin.
So take a second to stop today and love all your scabs and patches. Just kiss those moles and rub those bumps and smile at all your scratches.
AWESOME!
Getting to the light at the end of the tunnel
My world was spinning in 2008.
After finishing school in Boston and going on a cross-country road trip with my friends Chris and Ty, I moved to a dusty suburb to live with my brand new wife in my brand new life. Yes, we got married young, we got married quick, and after living on opposite sides of the border we were finally moving in to get busy living.
So I slapped on a crisp, fresh shirt and started a new office job while trying to settle into a brand new town where I didn’t know anyone. My high school and college friends had long scattered like marbles so I was looking for a new place in a new world.
Now, my wife had been teaching for years so she had a bit more going on. She’d coach baseball tournaments and I’d stroll around waving at old folks on their porches. She’d play volleyball and I’d eat cookies and flip past reruns. She’d watch Grey’s Anatomy with friends and I’d practice the fine art of taking long naps and playing video games.
I was feeling pretty lonely and whenever I flipped open a paper the news didn’t exactly cheer me up either. Polar ice caps were melting, hurricanes were swirling in the seas, wars were raging around the world, and the job market was in a deep freeze.
It seemed like everything outside my window was just bad and everything inside my window was just ... sad. Yes, although my wife and I had respect, trust, and admiration for each other, it was becoming clear after a few months that ... something was missing.
So one chilly spring night in 2008, alone in our dark house, feeling cut off from the buzzing world of bright lights outside, I went online and on a whim started up a tiny website called 1000 Awesome Things. I wanted to try to focus on the positive by writing about one awesome thing every night after I came home from work.
I think I needed to remind myself there were bright spots in the darkness. I think I needed a cold breath away from the hot swirling clouds around me. I think I needed a place where I could smile at the little things we all smile silently at throughout our days.
Over time our nights at home grew a bit quieter, our dinners a bit shorter, and our laughs faded into polite smiles. While the year rolled on, we kept living together but were growing further apart. She’d coach badminton and play on her volleyball team and I’d stay home writing for hours about picking perfect nachos and the smell of gasoline.
We kept trucking, kept slugging, kept soldiering on, until the rubber finally hit the road one quiet night while we were sitting on the couch. She looked me straight in the eyes and through painful tears summoned the courage to tell me she didn’t love me anymore.
It was heartbreaking.
Tears spilled all weekend and wet pillows, sweaty blankets, and head spins came in waves. By Sunday night I blinked bleary-red eyes and suddenly realized I didn’t have anything to write about except crying. So that’s what I did and that’s why that Monday-morning entry is in The Book of Awesome.
When I think back to that time I’m reminded of heavy moments at the bottom of a dark well staring
way, way up at the tiny pinprick of light at the top. But I’m also reminded of the joy and relief of letting awesome things cheer me up while I struggled to keep moving.
I guess I’m addicted to letting thoughts of crunchy leaves, shopping cart rides, and pizza slice tips swirl in my head and lift my brain sky-high. I love talking with all of you and reminding ourselves of the many awesome things we all have to share.
For us, we just happened to be two different people walking two different paths. Sure, it was painful as painful can be, but we need to grieve, we need to let emotions overcome us, and we need to choose to walk toward those bright lights in the distance. Even if those lights seem pretty far away.
So, come on: When bad news squeezes your lungs and the weight of the world pushes you under, let’s always try to catch our breath by focusing on the best things in life. Yes, let’s focus on the sound of steaks hitting a hot grill, taking the price tag off in one quick move, and good turnouts on your birthday. Let’s focus on beautiful pick-me-ups like getting the airport pickup, laughing with friends till you cry, or holding the keys to your first apartment. Let’s focus on all the magic moments, eye-twinkling memories, and small special touches that make every day so sweet and make every day worth living.
Yes, life’s too short to swim in the deep forever, so when it hurts remember to focus on the end of that tunnel and let those lights guide you forward and forward and forward and forward and forward and forward and forward.
AWESOME!
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
And away we go!
To oxygen, thanks for being breathable. To trees, thanks for making oxygen. To Earth, thanks for making trees. To the universe, thanks for making Earth. To The Big Bang, thanks for making the universe. I love you, The Big Bang.