My Life As A Hobby

  Well, it’s official. Today I learned that I am too old to buy a truck. On a day when most people rejoice because they have something shiny and new in their driveway, I’m a bit depressed. I’ve realized that what I just bought isn’t a truck with a computer, it’s a computer with four tires; and it may be above my pay grade.  Think I’m kidding?  Once we consummated the sale, I spent almost two hours sitting in the vehicle while the salesman hooked me up to the Internet,  and showed me how to use every device in the truck (which I’ve already forgotten, by the way). I never thought the day would come when I’d have to go to class after buying a car. I’m fairly certain the Apollo 11 astronauts didn’t have to contend with this much stuff on their trip to the moon. Before he left, the salesman told me to “push a lot of the buttons, read the brochure I gave you, and then we’ll get together in a week or so.”  He gave me homework!    At this stage of life, I don’...

        It’s official - I have what is commonly known in medical circles as the crud.      I’m sneezing, I’m stopped up, and I’m coughing like an old Buick trying to start on a cold winter morning. I feel like a sucked dry orange, and my voice is so raspy it sounds like an adolescent teenager.  Naturally, when my wife heard me blow my nose for the first time, she insisted that I march right down to a Doc in a Box. I know what she’s up to, and it’s not because she’s concerned for my health. Oh no. Instead, she’s worried about her own well-being.  Because, according to her, I am one of the worst patients on earth, which means her misery will be worse than my illness.        And unfortunately for both of us, she’s right. When I’m sick, I cannot suffer silently - not even close.  I whine, complain, and moan like a ghost in a haunted house. I’ve been known to say, “Tell the kids I love them,” when I have a head cold. Socie...

                         I can’t believe I posted this. No humility. “.   - What the hell did you do that for?” Is not something I usually say at one of the happiest places on earth. Yet there I was on my last trip to Universal Studios in Orlando, saying it to my wife. Because on the second morning, in front of my kids and grandkids, she committed a small but unforgivable act of betrayal, one that stomped my dignity flat. She ordered me an electric scooter.       Yes, I arrived with a bum right knee. Yes, I walked about eight miles the first day that felt like the Bataan Death March. Yes, I was downing ibuprofen like peanut M&Ms.      But still, an electric scooter is crossing a big line. I considered that thing a rolling obituary notice. In my mind, it’s saying to  world, “Yes, I have all my affairs in order.”        I’m not in denial about getting older. I’v...