Do you fear ageing?

I was thinking about this a couple months ago, when I realized that both of my thumbs are permanently screwed up. My right thumb got peeled back to my wrist due to an ATV accident in my youth. And my left thumb has a nice clump of scar tissue right at the joint from an incident involving a broken porcelain bowl. I’ve since healed, but they’re just not quite as dextrous as they used to be. Great, there goes one of my defining primate characteristics. Then the myriad of broken bones I’ve suffered on top of a bone marrow extraction surgery performed on my pelvis can on a rainy day make me hobble around like a grandmother. I assure you, your body remembers this shit.

Now here I am creeping up on my 31st birthday, and I realize it’s all downhill from here. I will never be as fast as I was in high school. I will injure more easily and heal with more difficulty. I am not indestructable. I am a squishy, fragile, and mortal.

So yeah, I’d worked myself into a fairly gloomy mood when my dad called. Now my dad, much like a lot of people with his years, likes to talk about 2 things.

1. money
2. his aches and pains

Sure enough, he picks # 2 and goes to town. Great, just what I need to hear right about now. “My back hurts, my arms hurt, my legs, my ass, my liver, etc. etc. my body is falling apart .. blah blah blah” Now normally he only has 1 or 2 little owies, but this list was more substantial than most so I of course asked him what the hell he’d been up to. He answers, “Well I cut and stacked 4 cords of woods this weekend, and that's about it.” Now those of you fortunate enough not to have spent a significant number of your childhood weekends cutting and stacking wood might not realize that a cord is a stack of wood 4 feet wide, 4 feet tall, and 8 feet long. 1 cord is a lot of wood. 4 cords is a lot of freaking wood. Working up 4 cords of wood solo with nothing but a chainsaw and a truck is a lot of freaking work.

Now let me give you some context on my father. He was born in 1930. Let that sink in. No, that is not a typo. Yes, this is 2007. That fart is 76 years old, and he just did enough manual labor to put your average yuppie in the ER. He could probably still kick my ass.

I just said, “Dad, your perception of yourself is so incredibly skewed, and I love you for it.”

Thanks dad. I really needed that call. :)

Oh hell yes

Guster is playing the House of Blues in Orlando next month.

Time for a home visit.

I've had like ...uhm 3 or 4 Monte Carlo rentals in a row now because apparently this is the only car National Emerald Club members are allowed to drive. I would love to give a review of a different vehicle, but the opportunity has not arisen. I think this month I will bitch and moan until they downgrade me to Pontiac G6.

I found an Irish grocery store in Annapolis and got some genuine Irish tea. Holy hell is it good (strong). After working my way through 40 bags of this "breakfast tea" I can safely say that Americans do not know what tea is.

A steaming cup here in front of me .. comforting, smooth, full of caffeine, and black as tar. :D

Work: I talked myself into a new position that actually gives me the authority to fix a lot of the things I kept seeing as opposed to always bubbling issues up to management. Now I have even more work, but I'm less stressed out.

woot