Today, as I sat eating my lunch, I witnessed a young child screaming, “Look, Daddy! A fire truck!” The fire truck wasn’t running any red lights. Cars weren’t yielding. Its sirens silent. It was just a normal fire truck – fighting daily traffic instead of fires. Why was this child so excited at such a seemingly normal thing?

I soon thought about the simple things that excited me as a child. Recess. Beating my grandpa in a game of Rummy. Catching Bullhead from Turkey Creek with my cousin. A ride in the combine with my dad. Why are the things that excited me so much as a child so different twenty years later? Why is youthful excitement so mundane for an adult?

I believe it’s because we let our excitement expire. The luster wears off. New becomes current. Current becomes old. And old becomes boring. We’ve seen it before. Life becomes common.

I refuse to let my excitement expire. I am going to polish up the everyday, mundane things in my life and look at them with 6-year-old eyes.

Don’t let what excites you now expire. Start unraveling average living. Live life uncommon.

I cross my legs. It’s a masculine cross. A man cross. Ankle to top of knee. There is no hamstring-quad touching at all. Left or right, it makes no difference. I’ve done so for years. It’s how I sit. It’s how I relax in an upright chair. I am squirrelly by nature, and I can think of nothing in the world that can de-restlessify me as much as crossing my legs.

As some of you might know, I’ve recently had knee surgery. Acute ACL reconstruction on my right knee to be more specific. I was doing swimmingly, or, rather, kickingly. I was walking without crutches, slow dancing at social functions and even starting to lift my brace into my nirvana position, cross-legging.

Lately, though, I’ve had some complications with a knee infection. Apparently, my knee juice looked more like milk than water. Not a good thing I am told. It’s a setback. One that I can most definitely bounce back from, but a huge annoyance at the very minimum.

I might be most discouraged by the fact that I had to undergo another surgery to hose out the infection. I might be most discouraged by the fact that my recovery time may be lengthened. I might be discouraged by the putrid smelling pills I have to take every six hours. I might be discouraged by the new scars from the second surgery.

No.

I am most discouraged by the fact that I cannot cross my legs. Sure, I can cross my left leg over my right, set it gingerly on my puffy kneecap and feel somewhat at ease, but crossing one leg is like eating spaghetti for 15 weeks. Spaghetti is good. Spaghetti is not good for the 47th consecutive time – with or without a meatball.

I’ve tried faking it. I’ve tried facing my torso and left leg right and plopping my lame leg onto my left leg. There was hamstring-quad touching. It instantly grossed me out. That’s not how a Kohler does things. I’ve tried laying my leg on my roommate’s left knee while he sleeps. It’s like kissing a sister. I’ve tried rolling up towels to make a third leg, a prop leg. This was fun, but I couldn’t figure out how to attach it without making it look obscene.

Nothing has worked. So I wait.

To all of you who cross your legs. To all of you who man-cross to de-squirrelify yourself during hour-long meetings. To all of you who sit two feet away from your desk to get enough clearance to be able to ankle/knee kiss comfortably even though you have to reach obnoxiously far to use your computer keyboard. Don’t take it for granted. Cross and cross often. Make it fun. Make it a game. Encourage others. Sit for freedom. Sit for America. Sit for me. Cross that leg.

dbk

I believe that Lincoln, Nebraska is the perfect test bed for what Google is trying to accomplish. Here are three reasons why Google should choose Lincoln, Nebraska as Fiber-Town, USA.

1. Lincoln, NE’s terrain wants to hug some fiber. I only know this because countless times I have seen rainbows above dig sites in Lincoln. I can only conclude that nature is smiling when someone shovels Lincoln, NE soil. Google shoveling soil for a fiber project would most likely create a double rainbow or nature’s equivalent to the :)). Nature doesn’t lie.

2. Lincoln’s population is a sizable 250,000, yet when I walk into my favorite sandwich shop, Bison Witches, they know that I will order a Guinness and a Reuben. By now, you may be wondering if I am Irish. I am not. But, I am confident that there are some people of Irish heritage that live in Lincoln if that is indeed a factor in the Fiber-Town decision.

3. I am pretty sure that the community can get Larry the Cable Guy to change his name to Larry the Fiber Guy.