Note: This is a re-blog from my other site. Used with permission because, well, I wrote it. I said it was cool.
I have a long and weird history with analog organizational products. Starting around age seven, I developed a mild folder fetish, spurred along by gloriously shiny document holders with The Muppets on them. Then there was that year I asked for a Trapper Keeper for Christmas. My mother simply blamed it on my Virgoness and indulged me. I think my father wanted me to see a doctor, or at least a little league baseball coach.
About an hour ago, I went for my first post-Thanksgiving run, where not only did I play Frogger crossing The Big Street (sorry, Dad), I got a ton of ideas of things to write about. Then I got home, fired up WordPress and my mind went kablooey:
Not as clever as I had hoped. It will come back to me eventually. In the meantime…
Pandemic Thanksgiving happened on Thursday and I was not too surprised to find that it was exactly like non-Pandemic Thanksgiving, with the exception of the Macy’s Parade Lite we witnessed. I was happy to be peeling potatoes.
I’m going to be starting dinner soon, but I wanted to get something down here because I’ve been neglecting the blog lately. I’m making vegan burgers and fries. Not quite a gourmet meal, but we all love some comfort food. Anyone else could make it, and I can make lots of other things, but like vegan French toast it’s kind of my thing. I have a system down.
Today I turned 50. Fifty years old. Half a century. Roman numeral L.
They say that age is just a number and mathematically they are right. Aside: Over the next 50 years, I’d like to devote my life to finding who the people are behind the mysterious “they.” Okay, so not the whole 50, maybe just a half hour.
I am feeling super lazy, so for this post I decided to illustrate the sky above Los Angeles right now. It’s filled with smoke, even though the fires are miles away. It’s like living inside a campfire, except there are no marshmallows coming.
The CDC says that being outside right now is like smoking eleventy-million packs of cigarettes (I’m still fact-checking that number because it sounds a bit high). If that’s true then all we need now is a ginormous keg of cheap beer on the bed of a pickup and it’s every party I went to in the 80s.
A few days ago, a friend posted a photo of a guitar amp that he just bought. In the caption he mentioned going through a midlife crisis, but at least it wasn’t a Miata. First I laughed, then I Googled “Midlife Crisis Miata” because I didn’t know that was a thing. Yup. It’s a thing.
Speaking of midlife, is it a Gen X trait that as soon as we hear about something new, we must know what it’s all about immediately? Or is it just me that drops everything to look stuff up, no matter how trivial? Somebody mentions a DIY toothpaste on twitter and forty-five minutes later I’m pricing Icelandic baking soda on Amazon.
You might already know this about me, but I like to run. I’ve always enjoyed it. Yeah, I’m one of those freaks. These days I run at a pace for distance, but in grade school, I loved to run fast. I loved sprinting short distances. I was wiry and thin and not very muscled, but I could run fast. I wasn’t afraid of going all out for 100 yards. The 100-yard dash was my thing. Tetherball was also my thing, but you don’t get your picture on a Wheaties box hitting a ball on a string. So I focused on running.