Cuisinart Charrina and Carlos: Fruit Ninjas

It’s no secret I work at Costco. One of the many products they sell are food processors. The one that strikes a cord with me is the Ninja Professional.

Cuisinart Charrina & Carlos: Fruit Ninjas

Any time I walk pass the pallet of those boxes I’m reminded of a sibling trip to Paramount’s Great America [renamed to California’s Great America] I took with my sister, Charrina.

On our road trip to our final destination, we stopped at a Dave and Buster’s.

We had never been, so this was a golden opportunity to rock it.

We didn’t realize we would become a powerhouse team at the Fruit Ninja video game. By the end of the night we were … Cuisinart Charrina and Carlos: Fruit Ninjas!

Time To Slice And Dice

I remember we rolled into the city late at night. We were borderline #hangry so we quickly agreed to drive to the nearest place that would serve food and beer. The ginormous sign for Dave and Busters called our name.

If you’ve never been, it’s an adult version of Chuck E Cheese’s. You can eat, drink adult beverages, watch sports and play video games to your heart’s content.

One of the menu options was to “stay and play”. You ordered food, and a game card would be issued to you to play games while your food is being prepared. We received our game cards but briefly separated.

I walked around the gaming floor to survey the scene so I can adapt. I realized quickly that each machine issued tickets to be redeemed for prizes at a specified counter. I suddenly had a flashback to a scene in my past about 20 years ago.

I shuttered at the memory of being the Bayne of Easter, but you can read the hilarious post after this one by clicking here.

It was fairly standard gaming choices between stand up video games, games of chance, physical ball throwing (basketball, skeet ball) and featured games.

The featured game?

Fruit Ninja! There was a crowd gathered around a monitor screen about 70″ in length that was mounted at a tilt, and only about hip-high. I walked around it to see gamers pawing at the screen with their hands only.

Pieces of fruit flew in from all angles from off-screen. Their hand movements mimicked a sword slice. However, if you sliced a black old-fashioned bomb that meant it “killed” your character. You could only “die” 3 times.

I settled on this game to be my first and only game choice. Time to slice and dice!

Cuisinart Charrina and Carlos: Fruit Ninjas

I stood in line, like everyone else. Eventually it was my turn. I stepped up as Charrina located me. I smiled to greet her, gave her the nod, and we got to work!

We are a great team with a solid non-verbal communication base. The tickets were being issued out of the machine with rapid-fire pace.

Our success started to gather a crowd around us, which only fuels our competitiveness and desire to win.

Be the time we were done the pile of blue tickets was a gathered around our feet like paper snakes.

The ticket exchange counter didn’t count our tickets, they simply weighed in. I gifted Charrina all the winnings. I simply took pride in being Cuisinart Charrina and Carlos: Fruit Ninjas.



Slay Your Time Vampires

My business coach, Catherine, and I were chatting on our weekly call when I mentioned some people in my orbit asked me “how do I do it?” I replied with the obligatory, “How do I do ‘what‘?”

“Stay as busy as you are, or at least your social media portrayal, yet still feel productive?”

“Oh, that,” I quip with air quotes. “You learn to slay your time vampires.

I’ve written extensively regarding my time view. You can read my post here, or listen to the podcast which the title literally incorporated 86,400 [seconds]

I digress.

Slay Your Time Vampires

Catherine suggested that I should post about that… slaying my time vampires. What is this ‘time vampire’, you ask? Time Vampire(s) is any activity, or person(s) that drain your limited amount of time of the day like a vampire parasitically draining your blood.

Or worst yet: distractions. They are worse because they are self-inflicted wounds that could’ve been avoided if you simply concentrated.

Am I saying, that I’m the patron saint of concentration? No.

What I AM saying is that if you can recognize your time vampires, then slay them, you’ll discover you can be busy, yet productive.

Mine? Oh, social media is my biggest distraction, therefore my largest time vampire. Literally hours of lost time could be accounted for by tinkering with social media. Even as I compose this post, I clicked away from it to address some posts that could’ve waited.

In the morning, or even the night before, I review my scheduled events, tasks, errands, chores, activities. I group together activities to categories, next into smaller tasks, and finally prioritize them by time.

Once I’ve organized myself, I discovered I’ve created an itinerary for the day, which will dictate what I need to wear, what resources I’ll need or need access to, and in what order to be the most productive.

The Other Day

The other day I wasn’t scheduled to work for my #ClarkKentJob but that didn’t mean I didn’t have work to do. My first of four events was in Monroe at the YMCA, then off to Woodinville to meet up my financial advisor, next to Northgate for Accelerated Results 365‘s seminar: The 4 M’s of Business Success, and lastly, #TwoStepTuesday with Power Team Entertainment at Normana Lodge 3 in Everett.

Each meeting had a different type of dress style per event but I didn’t wanna tote around a full suitcase. I also intended to accomplish errands, and have some fun.

So … I played a game in-between all the meetings and errands called Geocaching. I mixed business with pleasure; literally.

I Challenge

I challenge you to identify your time vampires! No, I’m saying your children, family and/or loved one are time vampires. Remember I said those activities that TAKE YOU AWAY from your goals or what you wanna accomplish.

Activities and/or people that suck your precise, productive time away from you and the task.

Once identified perhaps you can slay them. You never know until you attempt it. Remember F.A.I.L. simply means First Attempt In Learning.

Deuces for now,


Fuzzy Duck, Ducky Fuzz, Does He?

St. Patrick’s Day 2019 slipped by me this because I worked for 6 day stretch which included before, during and after that glorious day. Instead I took a stroll down Memory Lane to relive the fun…

It was 2012 St. Patrick’s Day. The Brew Crew decided to post up in Renton instead of Seattle for celebrating. WCP (my sister’s moniker) and I were late because of a Sounders match conflicted with the drinking start time – the festivities at Giant’s Causeway. Thankfully, we were dressed in green. #RaveGreen to be exact!

As you can imagine, the crowd there and our crew were hammered by the time we arrived. If memory serves, the seating situation was S.R.O. (Standing Room Only) We did that for hours. Invariably, the crowd dispersed, and our crew eventually bounced. To me, that meant empty tables and chairs.

So I broke away from my sister (WCP) and my bro (TJ) in search of these “assumed” empty chairs and tables.

Giant’s Causeway had two floors. I walked upstairs to the private rooms. Sure enough, I spied many empty tables and booths.

I announced as I asked a large table occupied by the remaining group that used the space, “Excuse me, but are those table available now?”

The leader answered, “Yes, and no. No, you can’t use them, but yes, you can join us at this table if you play our drinking games.”

I retorted, “I’m bringing two more people. Hang on!”

I returned to WCP, and TJ, convinced them to roll with me, and we posted up at their table.

The first drinking game was “Memory”. Somewhat mundane but a fast paced ice breaker. The second game was Fuzzy Duck. “Wait … what?“, you ask?

Fuzzy Duck

Fuzzy Duck is a drinking game where players sit in a circle. In turn, players alternately utter the phrases “fuzzy duck” and “ducky fuzz”. A player may also opt to say, “does he?”, in which case play resumes in the opposite direction.[1] If a player says the wrong thing, plays out of turn, or breaks the rhythm of the game, he must drink an agreed-upon measure of an alcoholic beverage.

Fuzzy Duck, Does He?

That’s the first time I even heard about it. And I’ve been playing it ever since. Fuzzy duck! Does, he?
‘los; out

March Madness 2019: A Decade of Awesomeness

If memory serves me, 2019 celebrates the 10th consecutive year I’ve indulged in a minimum 2-day basketball bender while watching in the NCAA Men’s Basketball Tournament otherwise known as March Madness.

In a decade of awesomeness, we’ve racked up some hilarious moments that I’m hoping the next 10 years will equally as entertaining.

March Madness 2019: A Decade of Awesomeness

For March Madness 2019: A Decade of Awesomeness, here are the highlights. 

  • Gratuitous use of the words: onion, splash, and big fella
  • $1 bets at least once per game. If not, more often
  • Back in the day there were hour plus long breaks in coverage, so Scott, Jason, Charrina and yours truly would play basketball at the nearby neighborhood court (Issaquah) 🏀
  • We started speaking “diner shorthand” – e.g. I need a pig on wheels and uh drag it through the garden!
  • Teasing each other about previously failed (broken) brackets
  • I was punished to the corner for inappropriate language

This is addition to all the laughs, all the beer drinking and catching up over the year. 

I largely ignore the basketball scene [college or professional] until late February or early March. Sometimes the University of Washington is invited to this tournament. In years past, I felt like they only backed into the invite.

This year?

This year I feel they marched into it with a new found confidence. (No, I won’t talk about that horrible Pac-12 Championship Tourney performance against Oregon, of all teams) 

Unfortunately, in my bracket, I granted them a courtesy, one-win game before having them defeated by the next team. Good on them if they advance, but I just don’t see it. 

Regardless the outcome over the next 2 days, it’ll be fun in the sun.



The Lost Art of Mom Jiu-Jitsu

There’s a fine line between disciplining your child and abuse. I’m saddened that the line has been removed, and it’s all lumped into “abuse”. Although, if my mother was alive as a young mother in the 2000’s … I still think she’d continue with her old-school ways.

The lost art of Mom Jiu-jitsu should be resurrected. No lie!

Carina Bayne, Jiu-Jitsu Sensei

My mom, who I love dearly, was a master at weaponizing the closest object to her if her child was acting out (up) Admittedly, that was mostly me before my sister hit her teens. Mom grew up in the Philippines for the first 25 years of her life.

The Lost Art of Mom Jiu-Jitsu

I was raised in the 80’s so disciplining your child a “thing”. Not only was it recognized, it was an expectation. I’ve already seen plenty of memes posted on social media about being a “wooden spoon survivor”.

Again, there was a line between discipline and abuse.

Even to this day, I appreciate the fact my parents, especially didn’t issue empty threats. It cemented the dynamic of cause and effect.

  • “Quit harassing your sister, or you’re gonna be spanked”
  • “Carlos, stop disrespecting your parents with language like that or I’m gonna paddle your behind”

As a child, you’re almost compelled to push boundaries. How far can you really push it? So when I quickly discovered their words were not idle, and they actioned them. Mostly, my behind!

What’s Up, Doc?

The most usual item I’ve ever been struck with was a half-peeled carrot (yes, you read that right) My mom and I were side-by-side in the kitchen preparing lumpia filling. I foolishly looked at Mom, and asked, “I’m starving. When are you gonna cook dinner?”

While my curiosity wasn’t unwarranted, my word choice and tonality were gruff. She raised her hand, so as a defensive measure I blocked my face thus exposing my midsection.

Mom flipped over the carrot she had in her hand, with the skinny end now in her hand, and she connected with me between the 4th and 5th rib with the heavy knobby end. It left an immediate welt on my skin, as I yelped.

“It’ll get done as soon as you and I cook it, that’s when,” she replied as she almost holstered the carrot like a gunfighter after a successful shootout.

She calmly continued with lumpia preparation like a Master of Mom Jiu-Jitsu, while I didn’t utter another word.

Deuces, mic drop.


THAT was Epic!

Here’s a fun fact: there are 171,146 words in the English language. I’m an accomplished blogger and author so my command of the English language is high.

Every once in awhile, I’ll add a word or phrase to my lexicon. Then to cement it, I’ll use it constantly.

Sometimes, I overuse it, much to the annoyance of my friends, family and co-workers.

I overused one particular phrase so much my friends turned it into a drinking game without my knowledge.

That phrase, you ask?

That was EPIC!” Seriously, of all the words I could choose from I would gravitate to those.

The Avengers Movie Screening

My friend, Cindy, gifted me a Blu-Ray DVD of The Avengers. At this point in my life I was still wanting to be sociable, drinking and hosting parties.

THAT was Epic

The space I had in Issaquah was fantastic. The “great room” of the 3rd floor apartment was 27 feet by 10 feet with panoramic views of the I-90 valley corridor.

I invited my friends and family over for an Avengers movie screening. I decorated the place like a movie theater complete with red carpet beginning, 9 foot panoramic poster of the Avengers, movie decals, and more. For the complete experience, I added fresh popcorn, soda, alcoholic drinks, and plenty of comfy seating.

All I needed was my friends!

One of my friends is very playful, and mischievous. Her name is Alicia. She would eventually be sold out as the mastermind behind this “game” she created.

I excused myself to use the restroom. In that time, the ground rules were set for the game. Any time I used the phrase, “that was epic” or even just the word, “epic”, everyone took a drink.

We settled down to watch the movie that I had already seen twice in the theaters. I wanted to be courteous to the first viewers so I sat quiet until after an epic scene happened. Then I would let out an “that was epic”.

Wait A Minute …

I wasn’t looking at my big screen TV when I said, “So epic”. I noticed everyone, even my friends that don’t drink, take a sip.

Wait a minute, I thought …

For all the drinking games I’ve suggested and we’ve done over the years, did someone make a drinking game out of me? I decided then and there to test it!

THAT was epic, I exclaimed in a mundane scene. Everyone still complied with Alicia’s game.

OH MY GOD, you made a drinking game out of me, I whine!

Everyone in the room burst out laughing – that confirmed it. I knew then and there I had overused the phrase to my friends’ annoyance. I slummed into my couch, mentally pouting while finishing my drink.

After the movie, and during clean up, I asked my sister if I truly did overuse the word or the phrase. She smiled, “Yes, you did. If every event carried that use of THAT was epic – then nothing is epic.”

HURMPH. You truly wanna know what’s “epic”? The fact my word choice, and yours truly was the centerpiece of a drinking game.

Now that?

THAT was epic!

Deuces. ‘los

First Aid

As I was driving to my Clark Kent Job [Costco Supervisor], I noticed the sand along Highway 9 for the snow clearing efforts, and after watching the wreckfest of the 61st running of the Daytona 500 over the weekend, it reminded me of the first time I provided roadside first aid.

At the time of the incident I was married (yes, you read that right – I was married before) We usually visited her family in Spokane a few times a year: once during the summer, Thanksgiving and Christmas.

If memory serves it was late 90’s, but definitely was Christmas Eve. Interstate 90 was clear enough to travel over, so we set out as we usually do.

Elk Heights Road

I remember the area and exit because years prior as a teenager I left my buddy’s broken down truck just off the exit with a note stating we would be back for it after the Alanis Morrisette concert at the Gorge at George (my crew of Art Turner, Marty Jaso, Sherrie Larsen, and others)

I was driving my 1998 black Honda Civic, a very popular car in the 90’s. I-90 was bare and dry so speeds were up near 70-80 mph the entire trip. Despite this, I still used the right-hand lane for travel to allow faster traffic to easily pass me.

Besides, my wife was easily car sick with variable speeds.

I zipped passed Cle Elum, and I noticed a caravan in my rear-view mirror in the distance. They seemed to be traveling at 75mph or higher because they were reeling my car in, by inching closer slowly.

By the time I passed the Elk Heights Road exit, I could identify the lead car a purple Honda Civic with a spoiler, a pick up truck, a mini-van and another passenger car in my rear-view mirror because they “caught” me.

First Aid
First Aid

The purple Honda shifted to the left lane to overtake me. Unfortunately, the driver put the left side wheels over the line and drove over the sand, grit at high speed.

He tried to quickly correct, which destabilized the rear-end. Watching this carefully I took my foot out of the gas. Then he sawed the steering wheel left to correct, but it aggravated the situation. The front wheels regained traction, and sending him 90 degrees across I-90 in FRONT OF ME!

I stood on the brakes in a panicked effort to avoid T-boning him. The nose of my car practically kissed the asphalt, and you could slide a piece of paper between our cars.

The purple Honda careens into the snowy ditch at 70 mph. I wrestle for control of my Honda as it screeches to a halt on the shoulder while the other vehicle dart around me to avoid hitting me.

I looked in horror as the purple Honda shot into the air nose first. The first impact was landing square on the trunk which crushed and ejected the rear wheels off the car.

Then it pin-wheeled through the air like a drunken ballerina. The nose of the car smashed into the snow, and slowed the car dramatically. It pirouetted a few times with the doors flung open, and came to a rest upside down.

I turned off the car, while still grip the steering wheel with white-knuckles. I turned to Charlene, “Jesus Christ, did that just happen?”

“Yes,” she mumbled. “I call 911.”

My First Experience For Roadside First Aid

I popped the trunk open, and opened the car door. She asks, “What are you going to do, Los?”

“Whatever I can,” I answer quietly. I grab my first aid kit, and mentally review my first aid lessons I learned as an Eagle Scout. I desperately trudge through thigh-high snow to the crashed vehicle.

My mind is racing with possible scenarios what I’m gonna see as a first responder. That’s literally what first aid is defined as: the first aid provided to the injured party.

I looked inside the passenger extracted herself already, the passenger in the back seat was trapped, and the driver was barely conscious hanging upside down seat belted in.

Thankfully, the airbags had deployed but if you’ve never been around the smell – it’s very pungent. I was able to assist the driver unbelt himself, then able to free the passenger from backseat.

All four of us starting walking towards the concrete of the I-90 shoulder. Several vehicles had pulled over, and started asking if they could help. I ignore that noise to concentrate on organizing a triage.

The passenger was holding her right arm, the driver was bleeding from his right eye, and the passenger in the backseat was visibly shaken but not hurt.

I stated to the driver, “I’m Carlos. Help is on the way. What hurts?” He blankly stared at me.

Ok, I thought, maybe he’s in shock. The passenger piped up, “He doesn’t speak English.”

My wife, Charlene, walks up to my triage area. “Los, describe the injuries out loud. The 911 operator is asking for clarification.” An ambulance siren cuts her off as it travels westbound quickly to the Elk Heights Road exit to turn around and get to us.

Washington State Patrol arrives before the boys in the red box do. The officer casually walks up. “Who’s in charge here? Has first aid been administered yet?”

“I am, sir,” I answer him. I describe the visible injuries, and that priority should be given to the driver. I gave the office my contact information, packed up my first aid kit, walked back to the car with Charlene.

I grumbled, “So much for using this kit.”

She smiled, “It’s ok. Your intentions were in their best interest. The professionals are on it now.”

I might not have been given first aid, but I was first to help! That’s gotta count for something, right?

‘los; out

Chip N Dale Dancer: Carlos

Did I ever tell y’all that one time I was a male stripper dancer for a hot-second? No? Shall I continue? Ok, if I must … the following is how I was a Chip N Dale Dancer: Carlos.

In 2000, after the #Y2KScare I was employed at Metropolitan Travel. I made friends there that still endure: Brian Maxwell, and Jeff Merly.

Much like many American corporations, every year the company hosted a Holiday Party (no longer referred to as a Christmas Party which is consider passe) The committee managed to secure Seattle’s famous The Edgewater.

Employees were encouraged to book a room and stay the night to minimize drunk folks on the road. Considering my travel-kind this was a brilliant move for safety and maximize fun.

That being said, I knew about horror stories of employees getting belligerently drunk, embarrassing themselves and never live down a moment in time that your co-workers tease you about.

I preface all company sponsored events with a one-line mental speech: don’t be that guy.

My roommate, Brian, and I musked up in the room, pregamed a drink or two, and then joined the party.

Chip N Dale Dancer: Carlos

Once we got there, it was a typical corporate holiday party. Cocktail Hour / Reception / arrival for the guests, then dinner, next music and dancing, finally games, entertainment, etc – fade to black and SCENE.

Again, standard issued, run-of-the-mill, garden-variety party. Except the end. It’s always the end.

This ended in tears: tears of laughter for witnesses, tears of pain for me.

The emcee and DJ turned down the music to have the Executives make lofty speeches of progress, and success. Afterwards they asked for male volunteers to step on the dance floor.

At this point, everyone was intoxicated, if not, at least packing a good buzz. Three guys already volunarily stepped up. It was my first year with Metropolitan Travel so I stepped back – I don’t know these people.

Suddenly, I was #voluntold by my female manager! And I was thrown under the bus by being pushed out from the crowd and reluctantly onto the dance floor.

I mentally sighed. Point of no return.

The DJ would play a song, and the emcee would offer some direction on how to dance.

Three songs were played, three different dances performed by all four of us. Then they started playing Macho Man by Village People, with the words “DANCE LIKE CHIP N DALE DANCERS!!”

Well, I’m not one to half complete a task – especially with an audience!! So I sucked in my gut, seductively took off my shirt and flung it into the crowd.

Chip N Dale Dancer: Carlos
Chip N Dale Dancer: Carlos

One of the three owners was Marta. She scampered across the dance floor, grabbed the front of my slacks and belt, pulled it toward her to create room, then jammed five 1-dollar bills into my underwear.

What the f*$k?

Without missing a beat, I continued to dance to Macho Man because for this moment I’m Chip N Dale Dancer: Carlos. Thankfully, the song was over. And the party, too.

I casually walked over to the general area where I watched my shirt land. Of course, Marta was holding it. I already explained she one 1/3 owner of Met Travel along with her friend, Jeff, and her ex-husband, Willie.

She reluctantly returned the shirt to me with a smile, “Nice job, Carlos. Hopefully the tip was enough.”

I hadn’t checked at this point. I was thankful she didn’t ask more from me.

Later On …

Brian hit me up later in the room in the morning because I left the hotel to seek out fun in the Seattle night scene.

Brian jokes, “Any career opportunities you seeking out as a male dancer or stripper?”

I laughed, “No, B. That was the one and only show for Chip N Dale Dancer: Carlos.”

‘los; out

Seattle Snowmageddon 2019

It all started on February 4th, 2019. Monday, the 4th, to be precise.

All the local news stations, and social media postings of Washington State Department of Transportation, and weather forecasts called for the Polar Vortex to push several snow packing storms to the Pacific Northwest.

They were calling it Seattle Snowmageddon 2019.

As a long time denizen, I’ve heard this winter storm alert before. In fact, every year ‘they’ threaten snow. And like the proverbially “boy who called wolf”, I arrogantly ignored it.

Seattle Snowmageddon 2019
Seattle Snowmageddon 2019

I’ve burned by it two years ago in 2017 when a measurably amount of snow fell in the area. However, it was short lived. In my memory, my experience of significant amount of snow was in 2006, 1996 and 1994.

It’s 10 days later, on Valentine’s Day 2019, there still is snow on the ground and in the streets. In fact, the city of North Bend has (had?) 2 feet of it dump on top of them. So much so that the governor declared a state of emergency for the city to activate resources and material to unearth them.

Happy Birthday To Me

Luckily, after one of the slowest nights I’ve experienced at Woodinville Costco on Monday, I had the next 3 days off. It was my pseudo-weekend plus my MLK Day Floater.

On February 8th, the second snow storm was set to pound the region again. Now that weather forecasters had credibility, this announcement sent the region into a buying frenzy.

The day before, my birthday, my co-workers / friends were posting photos on Instagram, Facebook, and Twitter of empty shelves at Costco, Safeway, Fred Meyer, and all sorts of grocery stores.

It was eye-opening to say the least.

Events were being canceled in anticipation of this second of three storms. One of which was Whisper: Prohibition Party that I was gonna use to celebrate my birthday.

Guess not … rescheduled to April 12th for the safety of vendors and party-goers alike.

And then, like clockwork prediction, the second storm hammered the Lake Stevens, Clearview, Monroe, Woodinville area. Just like everywhere else.

Seattle Snowmageddon 2019

The third storm hit this week but sporadically throughout the Pacific Northwest. As of this writing (Valentine’s Day) there are no forecasts calling for more snow storms, maybe rain.

However, even if it drops more snow or rain or snow/rain mix, that doesn’t dismiss us from the snow melting and the potential flooding from the snow melt.

Temperatures have risen above freezing steadily. Much like the funny memes, short videos mocking “get your bread and milk!”, even during #snowmageddon that vegan food was largely untouched.

Amazingly, the local utility companies have been working around-the-clock to restore power to each of us, or maintain power despite falling trees, or blown transformers.

Snow plows with sanding have been dutifully working long hours to clear main highways, arterials and then work toward off-streets. Speaking of which, I’ve done my fair share of snow shoveling as part of my home owner responsibility to my tenant / roommate. Granted she’s my sister, but still if it was anyone else this is an expectation for me.

Additionally, it’s a safety issue. If she or I fall, then injured from said fall, we / I couldn’t work to earn money. That’s an issue for most of us that live paycheck-to-paycheck. The term that pops into my head is “hand to mouth living”.

My hope is we’re experiencing the tail end of Seattle Snowmageddon, so we can begin the process of digging out of it. Currently, I’m glaring at the somewhat melted snow from my office perch in my house.

Let’s just start digging and (you guessed it) … keep digging.

‘los; out

Single Appreciation Day (S.A.D.)

Valentine’s Day is fast approaching. It’s another year I have “single” status by my name on my social media footprint.

#ValentinesDay has yet to compelled me to make grand gestures of love for my lover when I have one.

In fact, I could truly tell you it’s another Hallmark Holiday so it’s simply a day on the calendar. At least the Conversation Heart was saved yesterday, per this article.

Single Appreciation Day (S.A.D. for short) was designed for single folks to kick it while those in relationships celebrating this day of love.

Single Appreciation Day (S.A.D.)

It doesn’t have to focus solely on romantic love!

Valentine’s Day isn’t just a day for lover, but for all who have love, being love, and in love.

– Luz Bayne, her Facebook post

You can celebrate the love of friendship, by inviting a friend over for night of movies, and board games. Or do something unusual like indoor skydiving (iFly), or go-karting racing, etc … let your fun imagination loose.

I’ve posted for several years about the backlash from singles not giving money to the corporations that rely on sales surrounding Valentine’s Day. This year I decided to concentrate on a positive aspect about a day I won’t be actively celebrating with a lover: love.

My intention is not to bash on those that revel in celebrating Valentine’s Day. I’m not jealous of those that can do it. I’m merely pointing out that singles shouldn’t feel included on this day.

My message is to celebrate the love of friendship, love of family members, and being willing to be loved, perhaps willing to love another person again.

February 14th shouldn’t be sad for those not in a relationship; new or established. It should be S.A.D. as I’ve defined it!

So Spaceship Earth… how are you gonna celebrate February 14th this year? ARE you gonna celebrate it? If not, why?

Your comments are welcomed below.

‘los; out

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