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.