The Flattened Frog didn’t meet Rocky as I sweat the small stuff.

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       A grocery store cigar sits on a brick window ledge near three potted plants. One of the plants is a Rosemary Bush. I don’t know what the other two plants are. “Radar Love” by Golden Earring plays on the speaker. It’s a $6 Rocky Patel. Not my first choice, but it will do. What’s on my mind? I whisper to myself “If earring is one word and not two, why the need for two ‘Rs’?” That is how clear my mind is right now? Completely worry free. 
       In a few days we will be in the Caribbean. One “R”, but two “Bs”. I want to be inside helping Steph pack for the trip, but I can’t bring myself to stub out Rocky and go inside and be productive. It’s OK, she’s got this. You see, we’ve a got thing called “Radar Love”. The crack of my Miller Lite, as I open it, is in time with the beat of the song. I am on vacation. The beer won’t taste any better in Turks and Caicos. The view will be nicer and the cigars will certainly be better. 
       The kids are growing older. It may our last “big” trip together before life interferes with the harmony that we share now. Trey is destined to be the leader of the free world. Gracie will break a million hearts. And Jackson...Well, he is quickly becoming an internet star. He’s now getting paid for his Social Media fame. 
       Yep, the cigars will taste better in the Caribbean, but not the beer. I am also certain that I won’t have to scoop a flattened frog off a driveway next week. Dwight Yoakam plays now. He’ll be replaced Bob Marley soon. The cigars will taste better, but the beer won’t. Poor frog. I’m sure that I ran over him. He missed out on the grocery store cigar. He never met Rocky Patel. I’ll dedicate “You’re the One” by Yoakam to him as I sip my beer.
       I count unnecessary consonants. “Safety Dance” by Men Without Hats begins to play. Damn frog obviously wasn’t doing the Safety Dance as I pulled into the driveway earlier. Had he, he could have met Rocky. 
       Why am I blogging about this? Now? Because this is all that is on my mind. Worrying about big things doesn’t help. I’ve always heard “don’t sweat the small stuff”. I’ve learned it is the “small stuff” that holds the magic. Gracie rode with me to get Rocky at Publix. We sang “Psychosocial” by Slipknot at the top of our lungs on the way home. I’ll remember that one day when I walk her down the aisle. I won’t remember P&L’s or sales budgets. I’ll sweat the small stuff. That’s where the magic lives. 
       The cigars will taste better next week, but the beer won’t. A grocery store cigar ash falls into one of the unidentified plants. The Rosemary smell is mixing with Rocky’s aroma. Gracie walks outside. I sip my beer and I choose to sweat the small stuff not the “big stuff”. P&L’s and sales budgets will have wait. I’m on vacation.
       The flattened (two T’s) frog was tossed over a fence that separates us from an empty lot “Over Yonder”. 

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