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The longer I drive on given days the heavier my eyelids get. Like 99% of the men in the world, I like to do the driving. And once in a while I drive past my primetime alertness shall we say. That's when my wife starts to think of things to keep me awake longer, like turning on the radio.
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When I was a kid, someone came up with a new idea for entertainment. No, not hieroglyphics! It's called 3-D movies. They've actually made a comeback in recent years and they might even be more popular than they were back then. Back then, we put on these cardboard sunglasses. Boy, what a fashion statement! Now they are at least plastic. And just like then, things begin walking toward the screen, and then they walk right out of the screen and they walk practically into your face. Of course, when you take those glasses off, it's just a flat old screen again. But when you have those glasses on, you see things you otherwise would never have seen.
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If my wife and I ever happen to be at your house for a meal, don't bother offering my wife milk. She will probably politely decline. You can tell her how good it is for her. It won't help. "No" is always the answer when it comes to milk. It has been that way since she was a girl, and it's all this cow's fault; the one who gave the milk with the bitter taste.
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Onions taste great on a hamburger, and they keep tasting long after the burger. Garlic tastes great on pizza, and it will be there for you for the rest of the night. In fact, the onions and garlic will be there not only for you, but for anybody who gets close to you - which probably won't be very many. Many teenagers have discovered the interesting aftermath of a scrumptious hot fudge sundae or a chocolate bar; acne tomorrow morning - front and center. The chocolate was great - briefly. The acne is ugly - not briefly. And what about that ancient wisdom "a moment on the lips, forever on the hips"? Those super-size fries or that creamy milk shake will taste wonderful - briefly. And possibly enlarge your body for months or years to come! Here is Science for the Simple, just in case you haven't figured this out already: What you eat affects you later.
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Sometimes you see hitchhikers by the side of the road. What are they usually holding? A sign, usually crudely lettered, and it doesn't have the name of the car they want to ride in. No, it has the name of a place on it; the place they want to go. On Indian reservations, hitchhiking is a way of life. I asked one of our Native American friends recently about her hitchhiking experiences. She told me she asked only one question before she got in a car. She didn't care about the make of the car, the driver's IQ, or where the driver was from. She had one question, "Where are you headed?"
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Fettuccini Alfredo! It's that great Italian dish that has buttered noodles served in a rich, creamy cheese sauce. Unfortunately, it's not recommended as health food. It's more like "heart attack on a plate." Maybe that's a bit of an overstatement, but the fact is that a lot of foods do contribute to the slow shutdown of the valves that happen to carry the blood and oxygen into your heart. I love what one commercial called it - blood sludge. Medical people refer to the hardening of the arteries - the process in which foods that are high in cholesterol and fat start building up these hard deposits in your arteries. If this hardening in your heart is allowed to continue long enough, it's no laughing matter. It can threaten your life.
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Let's see, there was Gilligan, the Skipper, too, the movie star, the millionaire and his wife. You know, it was the cast of that eternally rerunning sitcom, Gilligan's Island. Maybe you remember the story. They boarded the S.S. Minnow that day to take a what? (I want to sing it so bad!) A "Three hour tour." Little did they know a storm would come up and they'd end up shipwrecked on some desert island, and they'd have to stay there trapped forever in rerun-land. When they boarded that day, they had no idea how far they were going to go or how long they were going to stay. Some three-hour tour!
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I used to introduce my younger son by calling him "my baby" which is a little ridiculous if you look at the two of us. The boy I used to pick up is now the man who picks me up. And that's pretty embarrassing. He would greet me at an airport or some public place, still does, put his arms around me and lift me in the air. When I stand next to this moose in our family, I ask myself, "How did this child of mine ever get so much bigger than I am?"
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I have some fond remembrances of the dog we had when we lived in New Jersey. See, there were few things that could make Missy, our dog, go bonkers more than her original master, our youngest son, coming home for a visit. She would literally dance in the hall when he walked in. This one particular time I remember pretty well.
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Our youngest son was one week away from his sixteenth birthday, and we had surprised his older brother and sister. It was going to be tough to surprise this one for his sixteenth. So I picked him up from his friend's house and we went out to eat. I said, "Hey, you know what, we've got to go over to the next town." He asked why, and I said, "Well, I've got to check out this stable over there. We're thinking about having a Campus Life activity there and I need to find out what it will cost."
