A New Milestone on the Odometer

In a few days from now, I will officially have left my twenties to enter a new decade in the thirties.

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I can’t say that turning thirty years old really bothers me too much, if at all. In fact, everyone I know, and by everyone I mean no one, keeps asking me if I feel different, sad or depressed to be hitting this milestone. And honestly, I tell them I am not bothered by it at all.

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Just the other day, I went to the local basketball court to play some pick-up games with a few same-aged friends. We typically play on Thursday nights, and this was supposed to be like any other night of intense skill. When I arrived, I was surprised to see a dozen or so new, young faces. Most of these new comers couldn’t have been more than a year or two removed from high school, and they all strutted around like they were the stuff. Anyway, one of them decided to take control and organize all of us into teams for a little tournament, instead of our usual king-of-the-court style of play. Names were then written down on pieces of paper and put into a hat for team selection. My friends and I all happened to be picked from the hat and put on the same team. Even though I can’t say I was too surprised by this particular dividing of teams, I could tell that these younger kids wanted the gym to themselves without having to share it with the “old married guys.” This was just their way of sending us all home quickly.

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After the teams were all established, the tournament and game play began. Our older, washed-up team then proceeded to give the younger, “abler” teams a spanking they never expected to receive. Not only did we win the tournament, but we left them shattered and embarrassed for even being born as males.

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Now, if I am not mistaken, that was a pretty cool story. What is even cooler is that I used it to express my lack of concern or depression for my advancing age. The way I see it, my twenties were a time of establishment and experience. A time that had it’s moments but was relatively stressful and rough. I mean, think about it. High school is a breeze for most guys —carefree, fun and easy. The twenties, on the other hand, are full of decisions, growing up and responsibility. But the thirties…that’s where the fun begins. Plus, chicks dig guys in their thirties…if that mattered to me, which it doesn’t because I’m happily married, another thing I don't have to worry about.

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So, the way I see it is I have nothing to hide from. I am ready and excited to jump on board the thirties train and enjoy the ride… just as soon as I am done icing my knees.

Something To Ponder

With all of the known and classified plants, seeds, fruits and vegetables in the world, have you ever considered how many people in the history of human existence have died finding out which were safe to eat and which were poisonous? I mean, think about it. The mushroom family alone probably wiped out an entire nation. I can just imagine how it went down.

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“So, the other day, Eddie, from hunting and gathering, ate this weird looking mushy thing he found in the forest. It doesn’t have a name, obviously, so I’ll call it a mushroom. It turns out they were poisonous, and it killed him. Which reminds me, no one eat the mushroom thingies growing in the forest. Anyway, I happened to stumble across another bunch of mushroom things in another part of the woods, but these look distinctly different from the one Eddie ate. So…who wants to try them?”

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Or, what about berries?

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“Dang, no birds are eating these berries. That’s not a good sign.”

“But Larry, we took an oath. Be it fungus, leaf, berry or root…we swore to try them all. It’s for the good of the tribe.”

“You’re right. Why don’t you go first on this one?”

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Something to ponder, I suppose.

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I don’t have an official stat on this, but whenever you ask someone what they plan to do after retirement, more often than not their answer is something along the lines of “play more golf and travel.” In fact, just the other day I was discussing the topic of post-retirement plans with a few co-workers. It was interesting to note that the majority of those involved in the discussion were excited by the thought of having more free time to golf. This triggered an immediate question in my head. What does a professional golfer do after retiring? Do they apply for a regular job at the local Wal-Mart? Do they limit themselves to only playing nine holes? Maybe they just move up to the white tees.

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That's something to ponder.

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When Adam and Eve left the Garden of Eden, do you think that either of them ever had a mental lapse where they forgot that certain of earth’s creatures, like the lion or the grizzly bear, were no longer the cuddly kitty or huggable bear? After being in the peaceful, friendly garden setting for so long, I imagine the concept of boundaries would have taken some time to get used to. However, not all animals are aggressive or dangerous. So, could one assume they kept a master list of animals that were approachable and another of those that weren’t? If so, the snake section of the list would have been the pits to collect.

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And while we’re on the subject of Adam and Eve, how long do you think it took before Eve felt comfortable picking fruit from the surrounding trees? I would have to think there was some hesitancy in that arena. After all, her first experience didn’t go so well. And let’s not forget about Adam. He must have questioned everything Eve prepared for meals. “What’s this?” or “Where did this come from?” or "Should I be eating this?" were probably questions that were all too common at the dinner table.

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Just something to ponder.

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A certain dried fruit company uses the slogan, “A healthy snack; the one Mother Nature would eat!” on all of their packaging. Is there anything weird about that statement? I guess the real question is: Does Mother Nature only eat meat? I mean, if the earth’s vegetation and environment —in all its forms— are her children, then I think we have an ethical dilemma on our hands. Now, I realize there are plenty of creatures living in nature that are known to eat their own young. As scientists, we accept this. As humans we can’t understand it. On the other hand, human characteristics and qualities are typically associated with Mother Nature and Father Time. So, is this an issue of cannibalism, or is “Mother Nature” just an occupation title —like “chicken sexer” or “forest husbandry?”

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Something to ponder.

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EDEN’S FIRST VALENTINE

It’s that time of year again —the time when men around the world leave the comfort of their couch or chair grooves, turn off the sports broadcasts and hide from their significant others. Yes, I am referring to Valentines Day, which is actually just the shorter version of its original name: “Pay Attention to Only Me Day. I’d venture to say that Valentines is the one holiday that consistently comes unwelcomed every year to roughly 50% of the population.

I wish that I could properly express my feelings for this holiday in a way that would be understood by women and, simultaneously, have men around the world stand behind me in full support and agreement. But since I have conceded on the first part of that wish ever becoming a possibility, I have chosen to give a history lesson as a way to explain the male’s inability to live up to the lofty expectations of this romance-filled celebration instead. Hopefully it will be able to fulfill my second wish and elicit male support.

A friend of mine once asked, “Why are men such jerks all the time?” The friend was, of course, a female, and the question was most likely rhetorical. However, being the all-knowing man that I am, I went ahead and answered it anyway. After all, what good is all this male knowledge and advice if it goes unused? Am I right, gentleman? Anyway, my response came in the form of this history/biology lesson:

Most guys, me included, are born without the exhibitus sensitivula bone (commonly known as the “sensitive bone”) in their body, a point we are frequently reminded of by our female counterparts. Anyway, if research is correct, this bone was located in or near the rib cage originally, anatomically speaking. However, in the beginning of time and human existence, the patriarch of our race demonstrated an unfathomable amount of unselfishness and, ultimately, sacrificed this bone in order to create a companion for this dreary life. This act was, by far, the most generous deed ever perpetrated by man to date.

At the time, we (by we, I am, of course, referring to mankind —in the male-kind sense of the word) thought this was a good and necessary idea. We thought we had weighed our options adequately and come to a solid conclusion and decision that companionship would be worthwhile and completely essential. After all, companionship —in principle— sounds like a great alternative to dismally roaming the globe in lonesome fashion. However, unforeseen side effects (pun somewhat intended) began to surface, jabbing us like a thorn in our proverbial (and incomplete) rib cage. Not minutes had passed, after the transfer of bone, before a barrage of nagging, whining, complaining and belittling erupted from our newly created partner. Horrible mood swings, a roller coaster of emotions, and statements of “why can’t you be more like…” became frequent occurrences. Suddenly, “roaming the world a lone man” started to seem like a metaphorical “walk in the park.” It was at this moment that we began to second guess our decision to open up and share (pun intended most emphatically).

The consequence of our first father’s actions still surrounds us to this day. Females all over the world gush sensitivity out of every pore, whereas males are unable to display even an iota of sensitivity on any given issue. It’s what scientists call “human nature.” And women, bless their hearts, are conceiving and attempting every way possible to change it.

Truth be told, I don’t mind Valentines Day quite as much as I may make it seem. Where I hate the obligations to meet or exceed the romantic expectations that this holiday generates, I do appreciate the opportunity it affords to show my loved one just how much she means to me. Too often in our busy lives, the act of showing care, love, and even (dare I say) romance gets lost in transit. We may have given up our sensitive bones, but we still have our hearts.

I may not be able to gripe openly about the chore of being romantic without certain repercussions, but I will complain until my sides split about the commercialism of February 14th. Who knows, maybe I’ll lose my attitudinal excessivitus bone in the process.

A Decision Has Been Made

As of 2:41, Mountain Standard Time, on January 7th, 2010, I have come to the important decision and conclusion that I don't care if the Manatee becomes extinct.

Not that I really ever cared before, but I am now officially and publicly vocalizing my stance on the issue. I mean, if the Manatee is not going to make a more concerted effort for its prolonged survival on this earthly sphere, then why should I worry about it? Well...as of 2:41, on said day, I'm not going to.

That is all.