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As promised.
Stephen
Autumn
Thursday, December 15, 2011
Bits & Pieces
Try this; pick any person over the age of forty, then casually spark a conversation. Somewhere within the talk say, "Hey, hasn't this year really gone by fast..." Wait a second or two. As a matter of fact mentally tick off the seconds.
I bet you a dollar to a donut the person will reply, wait for it, "Yes, and the older you get the faster time flies."
Never fails. I pull this off several times a day. Last count my very none scientific research revealed nine out of ten hoople-heads responded as above. It's just fun.
My son asked me why time seemed to move so very fast in ones life the older we become. Now, this is just my theory but I believe as young people, children, we are always anticipating, waiting for tomorrow. Ask any child how they feel about marking off the calendar for Christmas. This morning Little Bit said, "Papa, it's like a million gazillion years until Christmas." Children and young people wait; time moves at a snail's pace.
Now we're old. We have set routines; we rise at the same time each morning. We move through the same morning chores. We drive the same old weary route to work. We leave for home and spend the evenings much as we've done for the last twenty to sixty years.
We reflect. We think of our now long faded youth. If we indeed look forward it's to plan for our deaths.
Time flies....
Just finished writing checks for my mid-mouth bills.
Why not just take a six-penny nail and have it slammed up my rear end with a sledge hammer....it's just about as much fun.
Little Bit loves the market. We favor a local Publix here in River City. My grocery bills are atrocious. Anyhow, Little Bit has become quite adept at helping Papa shop for food.
She will not allow me, unless she needs to 'look' at some favored candy on isle eight, to touch the basket. She knows the store from top to bottom. Want sea salt, she'll take you to the salt's hiding place. Need chips, no problem, she'll say, "Just follow me, Papa."
Yesterday, I jerked a bag and began to fill it with fresh green beans. Little Bit steps in and said, "Papa, I don't like that one," reached inside the bag and removed the victim, "It's ugly." Like that.
Above, she directs me to her selections. Notice she grips the cart.
Her 'follow me' look thrown my way.
Yesterday, she selects the milk.
She's thinking...notice the shopping bags, those 'green' things. We had to buy two 'holiday' totes too. She said they were pretty.
She's my buddy.
Hey, I need to get back at it. My sinuses are giving me fits today. Little sleep last night and a sore throat today. Oh well, such is life. You guys have a good one.
Later.
Stephen
I bet you a dollar to a donut the person will reply, wait for it, "Yes, and the older you get the faster time flies."
Never fails. I pull this off several times a day. Last count my very none scientific research revealed nine out of ten hoople-heads responded as above. It's just fun.
My son asked me why time seemed to move so very fast in ones life the older we become. Now, this is just my theory but I believe as young people, children, we are always anticipating, waiting for tomorrow. Ask any child how they feel about marking off the calendar for Christmas. This morning Little Bit said, "Papa, it's like a million gazillion years until Christmas." Children and young people wait; time moves at a snail's pace.
Now we're old. We have set routines; we rise at the same time each morning. We move through the same morning chores. We drive the same old weary route to work. We leave for home and spend the evenings much as we've done for the last twenty to sixty years.
We reflect. We think of our now long faded youth. If we indeed look forward it's to plan for our deaths.
Time flies....
Just finished writing checks for my mid-mouth bills.
Why not just take a six-penny nail and have it slammed up my rear end with a sledge hammer....it's just about as much fun.
Little Bit loves the market. We favor a local Publix here in River City. My grocery bills are atrocious. Anyhow, Little Bit has become quite adept at helping Papa shop for food.
She will not allow me, unless she needs to 'look' at some favored candy on isle eight, to touch the basket. She knows the store from top to bottom. Want sea salt, she'll take you to the salt's hiding place. Need chips, no problem, she'll say, "Just follow me, Papa."
Yesterday, I jerked a bag and began to fill it with fresh green beans. Little Bit steps in and said, "Papa, I don't like that one," reached inside the bag and removed the victim, "It's ugly." Like that.
Above, she directs me to her selections. Notice she grips the cart.
Her 'follow me' look thrown my way.
Yesterday, she selects the milk.
She's thinking...notice the shopping bags, those 'green' things. We had to buy two 'holiday' totes too. She said they were pretty.
She's my buddy.
Hey, I need to get back at it. My sinuses are giving me fits today. Little sleep last night and a sore throat today. Oh well, such is life. You guys have a good one.
Later.
Stephen
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