I'M Old Enough To Know Better, But...I know I’m old enough to know better, but I can’t resist the little things in life that are not good for my health, my psyche, my body, etc. I like them, and I have given up trying to resist them any longer. For instance:
Is there anything better than a hot fudge sundae? I don’t mean a small or medium-sized one either. I want it heavy in my hand and the hot fudge overflowing, even though it’s a no-no on my diet. I’ll fast for a week if I can have one hot fudge sundae.
Potato chips are addicting. It’s true! I cannot eat just one. If they are the salt and vinegar variety, I’m likely to tell you to get your own bag.
When I was young, I used to love to climb into the very top boughs of the tallest tree and sway with the wind. Today, I still marvel at the wind, and don’t mind walking in a rainstorm when the drops are being driven horizontally into my face.
I have a penchant for naked women, too. Yeah, I used to subscribe to “Playboy” magazine, but now I read it online. I read the stories and, of course, ogle the pictures. Naked ladies and “Playboy” are a lot like that hot fudge sundae; the bigger the cup the better.
I love to daydream. I know, we are taught as youngsters not to do it. But now that I’m approaching the big six-oh, I see absolutely nothing wrong with it. I think about life gone by and fantasize about the future. Here’s a surprise. I think Miss October just might come to my birthday party next week.
I love to scan the auctions on eBay, even though there is nothing I want or need. Sometimes I bid just because I know it will drive up the price, especially when I know somebody is lurking in cyberspace who wants to win dearly.
I like a good argument. Sometimes I’ll take the opposing side just because it generates conversation.
This one is a little strange, I guess. I love my hands when they are dirty. Perhaps that’s because I spent most of my life typing stories on a variety of keyboards in sterile environments. My hands seldom got dirty. Now, pulling weeds or planting with my bare hands is wonderful. Why? It’s the only way I know how to connect with nature, and my soul needs it sometimes.
Dirty hands’ best friend is sweat, another thing I didn’t do much of while working 70 hours a week as a newspaper guru. I love to sweat and can work outside all day in 100 degree heat without wearing out. The same was true up north when it was minus-30. As long as I kept moving, I was fine. When I’m done sweating, I like to grab a lawn chair and sit under a hose that is turned on full blast. That’s almost better than a hot fudge sundae.
Sudoku, those little number games in the newspaper, drive me crazy. I think I’m hooked. Sometimes, my wife will hear me cursing under my breath and she will ask what I’m doing. The answer is always the same, “Darn Sudoku!” A terrible thing happened the other day, too. I solved one.
Beer. It’s a simple noun that requires no explanation or accompanying adjective. Well, that’s not completely true. The words cold and icy fit well with the word beer. So do hot dogs, peanuts, hot chicken wings, pizza and (Oh, how my mouth waters when I think about it!) salt and vinegar potato chips.
When I was young, a friend drove me past a brewery and earnestly pleaded, “Look! No matter how much you drink; they’re going to keep on making it.” I thought that was a sign from above saying: “Feel free to indulge yourself!” I did, frequently. Now, as I approach the big six-oh, my refrigerator is full of it just in case others come by and want some. I imbibe only on occasion.
I think I made a mistake the other day when the mail lady rang the doorbell to deliver a package I had won on eBay. I said, “Thanks! How about a Bud Light?” She didn’t say a word. She just rolled her eyes, turned and walked away.
I also have a fond affection for hot sauce. I like it on just about everything that isn’t good for me. However, I think hot sauce is very good for my metabolism. It keeps me (How do I say this?) fluid. No constipation for this old man as long as the hot sauce makes his scalp sweat at supper the night before. Smoked Tabasco Sauce is great on salt and vinegar chips, by the way. And I’m trying to work up the courage to make a sundae with jalapeno jelly, but only when nobody is around to watch.
Last but not least, I like trying new things, like rollerblading. I used to walk about five to seven miles every day, but the pace was so slow. I used to love running, but I didn’t think my almost 60-year-old knees would put up with the pounding. Then this lady passed me on rollerblades while singing some tune that was playing on an MP3 pla