Wayne Dyer once said, “Refuse to let an old person move into your body.” Well, when I went to bed last night, my hips and back hurt so bad that I couldn’t roll from one side to the other without moaning. So I thought, Crap, a senior citizen has somehow sneaked in the back door. It’s official. We have a squatter. I seriously wondered if I’d be able to dance, or even walk today. So I did what any Christian would do. I prayed to Jesus and took a Hydrocodone.

Ya’ll, Jesus and Hydrocodone is a great combination. (You should try it.)

When I woke up this morning, I was convinced that Jesus answers prayers because I could walk. I mean, it wasn’t perfect, but I’m sure he’s been busy with Easter and everything, so I was still grateful. I managed to get around without too many grunts and groans, and then my aunt and I went to an estate sale. When we walked in the front door, there were chocolate-covered donuts for free, which I figured Jesus sent to make up for any hard feelings regarding The Aching Back Half-Miracle of 2017.

After the sale, my aunt and I had brunch where my cousin works, and she told me stories that I’ve heard about my mom probably three or four dozen times but never get old. And I didn’t take a picture with my aunt, but she took a picture of our food (and my hand), so I’ll put that here. And don’t let the healthy-looking kale fool you. My cousin said it was deep-fried in butter, cream cheese, and pizza dough (or something like that).

I spent this afternoon with my friend Kara. Kara and I graduated high school together, and we were both voted most likely to succeed, so I think it’s neat that that prediction came true. I mean, she’s succeeding at home ownership and being an attorney, and I’m succeeding at eating frozen waffles and being a blogger.

Anyway, Kara and I get together to visit a lot, but today we got together to hang pictures and such on her bedroom walls. (She said that after three years, it was time.) Here are a couple of pictures of all our hard work. My two favorite things are the three-dimensional golden starburst that we put inside a frame above her gray chair (first photo) and the framed quote we put below her window (second photo). I always think each room needs something a little unexpected. It makes me think of that scene in Dead Poets Society when John Keating stands up on his desk and tells his students it’s because he wants to remind himself to always look at things in a different way.

I spent this evening swing dancing, effectively undoing the half-miracle Jesus and His Twelve Pain Killers performed. For the last few years, I’ve been working on following more, which not only helps me with developing new dance skills, but also helps me with courage and not being intimidated and asking other guys to dance. So at one point tonight, I danced with my friend Walt, another teacher. After our dance was over, a lady I didn’t know–a total stranger–jumped up out of her seat several feet away and kind of yelled in my direction, “NOW you know what it feels like to be a girl.” And my gut reaction was that she was being sarcastic, so I just smiled and said, “I think it feels great!” (Don’t rain on my parade, lady.)

After the dance, Gregg and Rita and I went out with some of the other dancers. This is what I loved about it–there was this big mix of talent in the room, and everyone was sitting eating pizza or burgers or whatever, and everyone was on equal ground. At one point my friend Hannah (top photo), who’s an absolute badass on the dance floor, said that she often compares herself to other dancers and has plenty of insecurities about her dancing. Then one by one, everyone around her, including me, started nodding his or her head, like, Me too, Me too. And although it was this simple thing, it reminded me that we all have so much in common.

Before the night was over, Gregg and Rita and I (along with their two sons, Mason and Cody), moved to a bar called Kilkenny’s. It’s one of favorite places on God’s Green Earth, as I have a lot of memories there–long conversations with wonderful friends. Well, Rita started telling stories about how we used to travel together, about who snored louder, Marcus or Mason. So we were all laughing, and someone said something about the extended family, and I knew that included me.

At some point today, my aunt made the comment about people who are “professional complainers.” I’m sure you the type. So all day I was thinking I could somehow work that into a blog, maybe find something to complain about, but it just hasn’t happened. Some days, like today, are just good days. There’s nothing really to process or working out, and you simply get to enjoy all the hard work you’ve put into life so far. You get to eat a good brunch, you get to dance with your friends, you get to spend time with the extended family.

So even though I just had to have another talk with Jesus about my lower back, I don’t think there’s anything to complain about. And as far at that old guy who seems to have moved into my body, well, I think I can get him to move out with the promise of a hot bath or two. And really, I think that comment Wayne made wasn’t about your body’s aches and pains; I think it was about your mind and your heart. Obviously, sometimes life can be a real bitch. And it’d be easy to stay down on the ground, complain, and find everything that’s wrong and everything that hurts. But I think the goal is to climb up on the desk, to look at things in a different way, even if it’s a simple thing like realizing we all fight the same emotional battles and that a lot of wonderful things can happen even though you’re in pain.

Oh, about that conversation I had with Jesus. He said to take another Hydrocodone and go to bed, so I said, “Yes, Lord.”