Don't Let This Happen To You

Wayne sent me this photo of a Princeton professor in his office.

I actually think it's pretty frightening.

It made me think of 3 things:
1. What if one of those papers on his desk was mine?...and he was supposed to sign it.
2. How would you like to be the guy who does his taxes?
3. What if the condition of his desk is a reflection of the condition of his mind?

Farmer Tan

I fear I am getting a farmer tan. This has become a bit of a dilemma for me and I am looking for a solution.

Living in Arizona now, I should be able to get a nice even tan. Upon some reflection, I think I realize the essence of my predicament.

All the young hunks can parade around without a shirt and no one seems to mind. Thus, creating the dreamy bronze stud that looks so ruggedly handsome and earthy.

On the other end of the tanned male spectrum are the old retired guys that golf in the morning and spend their afternoons lounging poolside. Thus creating the leathery bronze image of relaxed luxury.

Like the 8th grade, I once again find myself at that awkward age, floundering helplessly somewhere in between what I once was and what I could someday become.

I know an even tan should not be a major consideration to anyone - and some of you are thinking that any exposure to the sun at any time to any degree is careless and wrong, even reckless. OK, now that's starting to sound more like it. Reckless...living on the edge...wildly laughing in the face danger. Maybe I can do this. I will blaze my own trail, venture boldly into the unknown and find a way to free myself from the farmer tan.

I Need a Glass of Milk

It's Girl Scout cookie time.

It happens every year.

Girl Scouts have new sales tactics. When we were kids, the Girl Scouts would simply go door to door in the neighborhood. Everyone would order a couple of boxes. I realize we have all grown wiser and see the dangers in that approach.

Eventually, parents took order forms to their workplace so that co-workers could order cookies without ever even encountering a Girl Scout.

Please understand - I really like the cookies. I even like supporting the scouting program. My boys were scouts (not Girl Scouts) and I'm glad they were.

I encountered Girl Scouts in front of the hardware store, the grocery store, the lumber yard and even at the Harley dealership selling cookies.

As I was driving through the parking lot at the grocery store the other day, I saw a couple of Girl Scouts sitting at a card table by the entrance. A mother, however, was running through the parking lot waving 2 boxes of cookies over her head hawking the cookies. Well, has it really come to this? I guess it has.