44 – It’s A Palindrome

January 20, 2009

I had a birthday recently.  I am now 44 years old. Yippee.

What to say about 44?  For starters, it’s a palindrome (the same thing forwards and backwards).  And. Um.  And…and I think that’s it.  I suppose I could add something about how when you divide it by two, you get another palindrome (22).  And if you divide by two again, you get a THIRD palindrome (11).  Guess I’ll have to wait until I’m 88 before I see excitement like THAT again.

When it comes to getting older, most men have a very strong (make that impenetrable) filter that blocks out what is happening to our brains and bodies.  We never allow ourselves to see the whole, rapidly degenerating, picture.  Instead we see what we want to see, which generally has us nodding appreciatively and saying, “Hey, not too bad.  I still got it!” while our wives and significant others shake their heads sadly.

I’m no different.  For example, I tell people that I play full court basketball every week.  Truth is, I play on a two thirds court, but since it’s more than a half court, I round up.  And I only play with others in my age range (no 20-somethings to make us feel slow or ground bound).  These are just two of dozens of shielding mechanisms used by the Captain of the Filter.  His mission?  Keep out any and all data regarding graying hair, sagging muscles, and my sudden inability to remember ANYTHING that isn’t written down.  And then, one day – a day that starts no differently from the one before it – the filter becomes completely clogged with overwhelming data and the truth comes pouring in.  As you will see below, it is NOT an enjoyable day…

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Kisses and Rules

January 5, 2009

ist2_3391548-sleeping-boy“Go To Bed!”

In many households, including my own, those three words are generally delivered in an ominous and authoritative manner, the tone meant to convey thunderous consequences should obedience not follow immediately. Unfortunately, instead of the hoped for reaction (6 year old child hops up quickly from most recent activity saying, “Oh, yes Daddy, I shall brush my teeth right away and put myself to bed anon”), I am often met with a sudden inability on the part of an otherwise intelligent and perceptive child to hear what I am saying or to decipher the English language.

“Yaniv.  GO TO BED!”

Nothing.  Feigned deafness, the thinking goes, will allow him to eke out another few minutes of computer/TV/Lego/reading/coloring/trains/staring at the ceiling rather than going to bed.  If you don’t believe me on this point, don’t move from the spot where you issued your last disregarded edict and whisper very softly, “want some ice cream?” and see how fast they’re standing in front of you with a bowl, a spoon, and a smile.

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