Fretting (and not on the guitar)

I'm not really a worrier. I used to stare into the sky before climbs, but I always go to bed with the knowledge that I can't control the weather, so worrying about it takes away energy that I'll surely need on the peak.

I still need that energy - my kids are still around, along with a wife just getting over the swine flu - but I find myself worrying more than ever.

Maybe it's because I work in the newspaper business, not exactly a reassuring career, but I continue to have a hard time believing this recession/depression is getting better anytime soon. I don't WANT to think this way, just like I want to honestly believe there is no such thing as climate change and that our health care will be reformed in a smart way and that we'll find a way to deal with our crippling national budget deficit. But more and more, I can't. 

Our city of 100,000, Greeley, is cutting $10 million from its budget this year. One of largest car dealership closed. My favorite downtown restaurant closed. 

Worst of all, I fear my fantasy football team might be mediocre, squeezing what little joy the NFL brings me these days (I am, after all, a Chiefs fan).

Sometimes I honestly think if my children will have a future at all, which is terrible to think and a little worthless, since 20 years ago, it was 1988, and times have changed since then (it was a time when you WEREN'T sick of "Pour Some Sugar On Me," for instance, in fact you begged to hear that song, and don't deny it, you know you did).

Anyway, these days I fret, a little too much, in fact. Funny. At one point all I worried about was the repealing of the poker law. Now I'm not sure I care. We've got bigger problems.

So I've booked my trip to Vegas. I'll be there for blogger weekend, starting Thursday. I'll try to soothe my fears with mediocre poker, Steel Panther and maybe a drink or two.

It may not work, but at least I can say I was there one more time before all that glamor comes crumbling to the ground.