The Slient Thief...

What is the silent thief you ask?

Aging.

It mockingly and silently moves along without any prompting... as a matter of fact, we celebrate it with cake and ice cream. Oh I understand why we do so. It starts out in your younger years... something every kids longs for... cake, ice cream or sometimes both. It sets a precedent, it grooms us into having it when we're old(er) to remind us of a time when things were made better with cake and ice cream.

Ironically as we age, those cakes should be lower in sugar and higher in whole grain fiber. Imagine if you got that as a kid? A cake that looked like someone dumped the box birdseed into the mix... yuck! Who's mocking whom then?

Life is full of defining moments... marriage, death... though there are those that might argue that there is no difference between the two. Not me of course, but some.

*Cough* Ahem...

Where was I now... oh yes defining moments that mark your aging. Births, graduations, buying a house, buying a car, dealing with a tragedy... something life altering in nature. Watching your kids (for those us who have them) grow up and make a life of their own... though we are a little ways away from that yet.

One could also argue that there a plenty more to add to the list, but for my purpose it goes back to music... again. It's time to start rascal shopping or shopping for a walker when you hear a song from your youth (and you remember when it first came out) being played on the radio.

On the oldies station!

Ouch. The song? Boys Of Summer by Don Henley... circa 1984... almost a quarter of a century ago. I was still a teenager of 19 then ... albeit my last year as such, but a teenager nonetheless. A touch of irony I suppose too in that the song itself is about aging. Can you feel the symmetry?

I know what does that say in that I (from time to time) listen to the oldies station?

As Sonny and Cher said "The beat goes on", for those of old enough to remember that duo let alone their variety show. I know that there are emails a plenty circulating pointing out the good old days. I feel compelled to point something out at a bit of my mom's expense (sorry mom) but she somewhat recently sent an email (like the aforementioned) to my brother and I. A link that plays a montage of music and pictures about and from the 60's. It was fun, and I've seen others like it.

My mom, in her message, said something along the line of "since you were both born in the 60's". While I remembered (if you will) most of what was playing (in the montage) since I was born almost smack in the middle of the 60's... early '65, I can't speak for what Brian remembered. It is true... he was born in the 60's as well, but in a mere three days a new decade began, the 70's. I found it humorous is all, yes, he was born in the 60's alright, all of three days of them.

I realize that I'm missing an even reasonable segue there, but it was something that I had a humorous laugh about when I read what she wrote and I wanted to share it. I imagine that Brian did in fact remember a number of things too, but to what extent I don't know.

It's really more about Brian being a child of the 60's... all three days of them. I imagine that my mom (or anyone else that knows Brian) is doing the math and I want to be clear in that I'm counting the partial day (his birth date) as one of the three days. I know details, details.

Sorry to just prattle on but it's not like I make anyone read this.

Tell Me Why...

I don't like Mondays...

I should be glad this Monday because the rain finally stopped (after an official O-Hare measurement of over 12 1/2") allowing me to stop with the designing and build of the ark. I should be glad this Monday since after all the rain, our sieve of a basement stayed water free... well, some very mild seepage. In years past with this kind of rainfall, it would look like a marina down there. So it was good to see the cats without their life jackets on. They've been banished to the basement due to a ongoing flea problem. We found out from the vet that they (the fleas) are bad this year... so I suppose we're not alone in that respect.

I did manage to see somewhat of a comical sight... comical in that it was kind of like visual oxymoron. A elderly-ish gentleman was walking down the street with a long over coat, a hat of some type and a SpongeBob umbrella. Kind of made me chuckle and made me think good for him, then I thought any port... you do what ya gotta do.

I suppose that you can't really tell me why I don't like Mondays... and most specifically this Monday.

Let's see, if today's Monday, that means yesterday was Sunday... and if yesterday was Sunday that must mean that the Bears played. They did... for only a half. They gave the game away and should be sitting 2-0 instead of 1-1. Oh well, they have 14 more games.

The Sox just lost an important game, luckily the Twins also lost.

So with all this rain comes wetness. With wetness can come some slipperiness... hence the slippery when wet warning... and so it happened. I was walking and hit a wet piece of wood and it was like I stepped on a banana peel. Suddenly I was skeeching on my right heel and to keep myself from going down I had to take an exaggeratedly wild step with my left foot. Upon doing so (and I'd like to add that I had my steel toe boots on) my left foot met with something solid, something very solid and unmoving. More specifically the toe of my boot, as in like kicking something. Problem was that while my boot stopped, the foot within said boot did not. It continued at a high rate of speed and slammed itself in a crumpled heap against the steel toe... my poor poor index toe, my number #2 toe taking the brunt of it. See, I'm one of those blessed with their second toe longer than the big toe. Under the nail bed is purple and the end of the toe is red and a tad swollen. This was the mother of all stubs.

Yes, it hurts to walk... quite a bit in fact.

Obviously, yet another blatant attempt to delay and put off working on the house.

On the upside, at least I wasn't carrying anyone...