The Answer is Blowin' in the Wind

My rickety, old Victorian style house is about to fall over in the crazy winds that San Francisco is experiencing today. As I sit here at my computer, I can feel the room sway slightly with each gust. The windows rattle. The doors creek on their hinges. Hard-driving rain pounds down on the pavement outside with such force that I wonder, briefly, if it's really hail.

Even though the lights have been flickering a bit this evening, and the satellite TV is on the fritz, I still find myself feeling comforted by the sounds of the storm outside. The rain sounds just like childhood.

Retirement

Okay. How cute are my parents in their matching Old Navy sweatshirts?!

Airlines Suck

I'm completely appalled that airlines don't make an exception to their exorbitant change fee when there has been an emergency and/or death. They're like the funeral business... Really? Emotional anguish you say? That will be $100, please. Totally lame. I'm thinking of boycotting them and making my own damned flying machine.

Poppin' and Lockin'

Today, I knew what it was to be old, as I watched a teenager cross the street in front of my car. The crotch of his pants fell just between his shins. His enormous shirt was the only thing coving his rear. I know this because I spotted his belt just above knee level. I realized I was my own mother when I had to physically restrain myself in order not to yell "Pull up your damn pants!" out of my car window. The best part, though, was that he reached into his pocket as he walked... and he had to bend way over, almost touching his toes, to get his hand into his front pants pocket as he waddled along lopsidedly. And I found myself wondering... why is this fashionable? Why would anyone inconvenience themselves in such a way simply to look stylish for his peers?

And then, I remembered the times when I wore flimsy canvas shoes with no socks in -30 degree weather as I stood in the snow bank, waiting endlessly for the bus to pick me up for junior high. My earrings froze to my frostbitten earlobes, while the hat my mother gave me to wear was tucked safely away in my backpack. No one in her right mind would spend that long making good mall hair, only to have it squashed flat by a warm, wool cap.

That was almost two decades ago. Two. Decades.
(Incidentally, I keep my extremities much warmer in my hard-earned wisdom of age. My fingers and toes thank me for it, almost daily.)

As I thought about this, I drove to my chiropractor. I have felt a little out of whack, recently. I needed him to put me back in whack. He popped my lower spine back into place and loosened up my locked ankle. My times... they are a-changin'.

Poppin' and Lockin' at Age 21


Poppin' and Lockin' at Age 31