I spend much of my day at my computer looking out my window. Every day, around 2 or 3pm, the little kids from school in the neighborhood start whooping it up outside, you know, playing. Now I’m not the grumpy guy who yells at the kids; not at all.
I’m actually quite the opposite.
One of their latest adventures involves the older sister pushing her younger sister in her electric car. The little girl is not the slightest bit scared; not at all. She is standing up dangerously with a big smile on her face in her non-motorized smaller car as she is whooshed down the sidewalk at increasingly-dangerous speed.
Part of me laughs right along with the little girl and gets the biggest kick out of the pure joy on her face. You can’t help but smile looking at her.
But there is also a very tiny part of me that wants to see the girls hit a bump in the uneven sidewalk and wipeout all over the cement, skinning their knees and elbows and scarring their perfect skin for life.
I go back in a few days for my new prosthetic leg. I hope they got it right when they casted it. Sometimes it can take a few castings, but I’ve been pretty lucky, so I’m ready. I will have to do some PT on my stump again. I am sure it has atrophied and I still have a few weeks (at least) of golf weather left.
The impending election will mean doom and gloom for many, and jubilation for many. Just remember one thing and this should get you through the night after you wake up one morning to find out all your freedoms have been stripped and you realize you now exist in a dictatorship: No matter how bad it gets, it is still better than North Korea.
Not exactly a tourism slogan for America.
The Domestic Despot was just remarking about how there seems to be a dearth of well-written, well-acted, big star films being shot. She said his as we were watching one of the all-time classics of this genre—On Golden Pond with the late great Henry Fonda and his daughter Jane.
It is the kind of movie that, if I had a child, I would want them to watch.
I wouldn’t be ashamed to let them see me cry (as if I could avoid it).
I have to find a new series to watch on the boob tube. I already did Law&Order and Frasier (twice), and I just can’t find one that meets all my criteria.
I check out a lot of documentaries so I would make a great pain-in-the-ass-know-it-all at a party if I drank and went to parties.
I think the first series I remember following was Mighty Mouse and Felix the Cat.
Those were the days…
Colorful cups full of chocolate milk and cartoons on all morning long on TV.
Laying around amongst empty cereal bowls and spilled sugar. Stay well.
