In case you haven‘t noticed by now I like to give unsolicited advice and offer theories no one is interested in hearing. So much so that I plan on having my headstone engraved with all sorts of tasty morsels I didn’t have time to get to before the Big Sleep arrived. The bottom of said stone will say “Continues on Back”. That’s the whole point of this blog, to avoid building a mausoleum.
Some are simple observations such as; Cameron Diaz is this generation’s Angie Dickinson, or perhaps that Post-Modern Art is the middle child of the art world. Someone notice me! I’m scribbling all over the wall! I guess we can’t expect much after a world war.
And some are a little more developed, like what’s the difference between a sport and a game? I’ve heard arguments surrounding this topic over the years. It usually centers round a personal preference for one or the other. Apparently, games sit on a lower rung of the entertainment ladder. Let me solve this quandary right now. Tennis: sport, bowling: game, car racing: sport, golf: game (although it does come close). The difference isn’t popularity, physical agility, or even difficulty. It only comes down to one thing. Is your opponent on the field at the same time trying to get you to lose by the use of physical force? If they want to make ice dancing a sport, then every team needs to be on the ice at the same time, skating to the same piece of music with a driving base section. If someone should skate into an opposing team, well, I know I’d start watching. That’s why golf comes close, but a player doesn’t alter his game in order to win as they do in racing. Having to wear protective clothing or pads is a good indication too.
And then there is the topic in which any answer is potentially the wrong answer, women. There are all kinds of books on relationships with women written by all kinds of ‘experts’. But none are experts because no expert exists, including myself (that took a lot to admit). The biggest mistake is one I already made, namely generalizing females into one inclusive category.
I do know one thing. Having both daughters and a son I can tell you girls are much harder to raise. There is no comparison between the enormous social pressure and table etiquette at your six-year-old daughter’s tea party with Mr. Fuzzylips, her stuffed bear, and throwing a football around with your son. With boys you just need to teach them three things: hold the door open for your mother, your sleeve is not a napkin, and try not to be an asshole when you grow up.
When my daughter started dating I have to admit I wasn’t entirely prepared mentally. I resorted to quoting from that great sage Charlton Heston when he shouted “Take your filthy paws off of her you damn dirty ape!” Eventually, she wised up and had them meet her at the local coffee shop.
I’m okay with it now. Not due to any kind of maturity on my part, but because I picture my little blossoms later in their lives going through menopause. Now I just look the guy with a smile and think, “That poor bastard doesn’t know what he’s in for.” I call that mellowing out.
And it doesn’t get any easier or give you any more insight to your spouse. My wife accused me of not being romantic. So last night I opened a bottle of wine (red of course), and said: “Why don’t we just sit and talk tonight?” It might not sound it, but I was very sincere and knew beyond a doubt this was the right course of action. Instead she told me to “Just shut up and put on a movie”. Of course, next week I can say the same thing and get a completely different response.
See? There is no reason to this lunacy. But it is a madness that needs no cure. Every week brings a new response, a new surprise, and a new daze look from behind my eyes and I’m fine with that. Because looking for an answer is not the answer to a happy marriage. In other words, just shut up and put on a movie.
And yet another plein air. Super windy today, but did the best I could. When my old professor told me I had to do about 500 of these in order to get any good I thought it was just a figure of speech.