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Thursday, December 10, 2015

Act Your Age?


There are many relatively funny jokes and puns dealing with maturity, aging, and the process known as getting older, but the subject seems to be rarely discussed by those suffering the consequences. An example, “No matter how old the man, show him a mud puddle and he becomes a ten-year-old.” Notice, will you, it is not said in first person. I’m double sevens, live on a small hobby farm with ample opportunity to stomp through mud puddles following every storm, and my wife will attest, “Johnny’s like a ten-year-old in the rain or the snow.”

What exactly is meant by becoming an adult, becoming mature? Damned if I know. When Patty and I walk down the street, she will make a move to put us in step with each other, and I’ll skip us out of it immediately. If we’re walking hand in hand, which we do a lot, I’ll walk on the wrong side of the power pole, then say, Bread and Butter.

I take great delight in breaking out the Christmas stuff and getting it hung, dancing around the house like Santa’s chief elf. Is that childish? So what! I’m registered to vote and I do vote, I maintain a driver license, and most of the time, pay most of my bills. So, if I want to stand in the corral and sing Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer to our horses, I will. And pretend I’m Barney Oldfield on the tractor.

It’s a little after five in the morning, right now, and the dog and I just came in from feeding the horses in a wonderful rainstorm coupled with some high wind. It was fun watching the dog romp through the wet grass, trying to find just the right place to add more wetness. One of the horses waits until I’m almost up to the feed bin with his flakes of alfalfa, then comes running hard, putting on the brakes just before crashing through the fence. Even in a rainstorm. Life should be fun.

That old dog is nine human years and the horse is eighteen human years, and the guy enjoying their act and energy is supposed to act like an adult, for heaven’s sake. Well, have to put this aside now and get busy on another letter to Santa before I check out how much rain we’re getting.

Until next time, read good books and stay regular.

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