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Counting Down From Zero

Yes, I WILL take another Dew but I am gonna need you to add a Zero, cuz I'm trying to watch my figure.

Let's get this out of the way right away so I can label this a review.  I don't know what sort of witchcraft is going on over at PepsiCo, but this Mountain Dew Zero is Mr. Bombastic.  Nearly all of the taste of dew with none of the gut rot.   Each can takes me on a magical journey.  Just remember this important piece of advice as this blog is nothing if not educational.  Take that little slice of heaven out of the fridge and place it for EXACTLY 11 minutes prior to consuming.  You can thank me later.

Review over.  Oh, by the way...I refuse to believe that Pepsi Zero is in fact Pepsi Max.  Conspiracies abound because it tastes better.

Time to put on my big boy pants.  No, not metaphorically speaking...like seriously I don’t fit in my pants.  It feels like a tipping point where it will be a lot easier to just let go.  I need only walk towards the light of the fridge and si…

The Nest: so much empty

Navigating the ages.  The middle ones.

Yes, that was painful to type.

none of this smells quite right

So you managed to sniff out this blog.  I am sorry.  I mean, seriously...I am so sorry!  What is it?  Who is it for?  Why are you still reading this?

So let's say for a minute your life was a season and you took a glance around and noticed leaves were falling?  I mean something has seriously happened here when you weren't looking.  Body sag factor is threat level orange.  You are officially fighting time my good friend.  You are officially on the clock.

I did the math.  The road ahead is shorter than the road behind.

Ok Slumpty Dumpty, let’s take inventory.  That mirror is a cruel companion.  It tells a story.  That story is "dude, what happened to you?  Your life must have been hard!".  It has a lot of pages that mirror story.  A lot of really wrinkled pages with strange blemishes.

Maybe, just maybe, you throw on some tunes, look out the window, take inventory and suddenly realized you had the urge make a few tears.  No real reason.  You aren't medicated but hey...maybe you should be?  Your nest has emptied.   Those places your bones meet feel like they need more lubrication.  You start thinking of your dogs as people because they are excited to see you.  You start thinking of your wardrobe in terms of fat pants and fatter pants.  Fatty McFatterson.  You are plotting an amazing transformation to turn it all around and it will start in January.   That gives a few months to continue this descent into madness.  All will be right in January.  Yeah...January.

You turned to social media only to realize it is truly awful in nearly every way possible.

You started to wonder how early is too early to have a beer.  Every day.

This place is all of that.  This is a survival guide when life hits middle age.  This is about figuring out how to thrive.

So yes, this is the inaugural No Eggs and Ham post.  It is my sandbox.  A place to share photos, share thoughts, share interests...really just generally survive and hopefully thrive in the post-apocalyptic world when more things are behind you than in front of you.  Either that or share a few beers as we descend into madness.  I know there is a path...hopefully this little virtual space can keep me afloat and let me exercise a few creative demons.  If it helps anyone else along the way it would warm my heart.  If anyone has their own perspective on all of this just shout and I can grant you the most honorable status of a No Egg author so that you too can ramble on to no one.  Let's turn this into a home for those starting that strange chapter that is sort of ending their main story while trying to start a new one.  A shorter one to be sure.  Without eggs.

There will be an outdoors slant.  It is key.  It is about learning to slow time.  Unplugging.  Leaving the white noise behind is so key to surviving all of this change, of that I am certain.

So if it isn't obvious the No Eggs is an empty nest.  Ham is bacon.  Autumn Bacon, who happens to be my wife.  At least that is her xbox name and what all the cool kids call her.  You see, she is finding her own path to thrive and its sort of my polar opposite.  She is connecting.  She goes online with the egss and shoots things.  I can respect that.  That is her survival guide but it is my blog so my survival guide.  Plus, I have become a little like ham.  A little fatty and my substance is hard to define.
Scenes from a post-apocalyptic empty nest world: parents weekend.

The overriding theme is probably this whole empty nest stage of life thing and figuring out a way through.  Reviews of the tools that help, impressions of the moments as they happen, and mostly psycho babble.

I miss having my family all together, under my roof.  I miss the routine.  I miss feeling like I was protecting everyone.  I don't feel whole.  Hopefully this will help.

So if you decide to come back or jump in and help or even take a shred of value from this....thank you.  From this point forward it will be more of a daily rundown and less generic.  There is something to be said for a shared experience.  A shared misery.  A shared success.  One day at a time.  Maybe, just maybe...write a new story.  A short one.  Not a whole lot of time for new beginnings there cowboy so you better get to figuring out where you are heading and get there quick.

And so it begins...


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