Preamble: You know the times your SO just flat out knocks your socks 
off?  This morning B has been jumping when the prox sensors go off for 
the front door.  I reassured her the first time it had to be the 
squirrels.  When she jumped the second  time she hollered, "UPS 
truck".  Sure enough, there is a box on the shelf, on the porch.

When she opens it there are the fixin's for 4 Lobster Rolls, butter 
included.  B declares, "It's what's for dinner." And punctuates it, 
"Tonight!"

So there is that...

Lists of Lists

I keep them.  I know that others do as well.  I forget where I keep 
them.  Knowing that I kept them and then not being able to find them 
becomes a nagging itch.  Everywhere I look I am always on the lookout.  
Until I stumble across The List while long on the search for something 
now completely pointless.

The universe is in motion, gods are smiling, while I wither beneath 
the simplicity and elegance of The List.  Now that I have it what am I 
going to do with it?  The.light.went.on!  The List, which I thought 
lost and searched for constantly, is made up of my goals.

As Titles The List suggests some final state; oh, he's a Futurist.  
When in fact, The List, as a set of goals or objectives, is an 
over-lapping set of evolving and growing skill sets.  Each becomes a 
discipline to study and practice.  Gods are now laughing.

The List
	Futurist
	Renaissant
	Raconteur
	Confidant
	Concierge

More laughter to follow...