OOW Studios

No, I am not talking about simulated breast milk; which, for the record, is not that good for kids.  It’s kind of like giving Diet Coke to your infant.  Not a good idea.  But, then again, my mother was a leader in La Leche League so I may be biased.  Kids need what we men are thankful that God gave to women.  I hope that was vague enough.

Back to my train of thought before it was so easily derailed.  Formula, ah yes.

Formula.  A recipe for something powerful.  I used to see FORMULA written on the sides of early 90’s Pontiac Firebirds in high school and think, “that car probably hauls ass!”  The word seems to evoke a successful and possibly secret concoction, as if the GM engineers spent years pining away at what they could do to be able to slap that word on the side of one of their vehicles.  In truth, it was just a big V-8 with some fancy ground effects and maybe an exhaust kit.  It was like finding out Santa Claus was fake all over again.

In Tucson, Kyra and I used to cook all the time and I was amazed at how different flavors seemed to work together to create a taste sensation.  I will admit I was usually the one without faith.  ”You want me to put that into the pot?”  In the end, it was always a perfect combination that worked well and tasted great.

I see this patten in life.  There are things that we can add to our lives that will create happiness, success, health and well-being.  There IS a formula.  These things exist and we can choose how we embrace them.  Do we want the logo on a sports car for the world to see?  Or, do we want the pot of soup, jumbled and chaotic, that tastes fucking delicious?

I realize now that I have chased superficial happiness in the past.  I was the DB driving around in a Pontiac FORMULA Firebird.  But, I just traded that bitch in on a set of Farberware.  

Greg