I was born without two things: the ability to whistle and the hand-eye coordination required for playing any sport. I’m not sure which parent to blame for these genetic deficiencies, so I just rotate. I think the fact that my body rejects the idea of whistling is directly correlated to the fact that I’m not a sunshiny person. Sunshiny people, by definition, have to be able to whistle. They must also love mornings, birthdays and drinking half-full cups of coffee – all things that don’t agree with me. Along with the usual side effects of being a non-sunshiny person, I am what most would classify as a pessimist. But, can you humor me and use the term realist even though we both know it’s just a cop out? And speaking of what’s real, this is your six month reminder that Christmas shopping is right around the corner. You’re welcome.

Every year, right around November, I say something to the effect of: I sure won’t be sad to see this year end. I know – horrible, right? But I bet if I took a show of hands, I wouldn’t be the only who has ever said they are excited to see the year go bye-bye. This past spring, I started thinking about why we do this. After all, when a loved one is terminally ill, the one thing in the world we wish for is more time. I often hear empty nesters say how they wish they could go back to when their kids were little and freeze time. And the instant we discover our first gray hair, suddenly the days of an awkward, zit-faced teenager don’t look so bad. So why are we so excited to see each year come to an end?