Blogs
Yesterday, after giving one particular Internet browser a trial run on my newer laptop, I decided to switch back to the one that I've used since college because I realized I missed some of the components I'd grown accustomed to.
I downloaded the new browser, opened it up and was comfortable once again.
It felt good to be back in the safe, comfortable arms of the browser's latest version, Zakintosh 3.0 (as we'll call it not to show favoritism or start any geek wars about the proper browsers).
Well, I was sitting around minding my own business one day when my wife, whom I refer to as "Dr. Linda," scheduled a colonoscopy for me last fall after a blood test showed that I had a low blood count.
As you recall in this little saga I call my life, we had done the Disney vacation thing in Orlando, and my colonoscopy was scheduled after that. If you don't know what a colonoscopy is, I'll just say the good part is they knock you out for it.
Some things in our lives are so much a part of us that we forget to realize that they're actually happening around us.
For example, breathing is something that we do constantly, but we tend to forget that we are even doing it until something makes it harder to breathe.
Or, perhaps we could look at blinking. We blink multiple times a minute, and yet, we hardly even realize we're doing it.
Desensitization is a normal, necessary part of life, because if we were fully aware of every single thing that we did, we'd go crazy processing all of these things.
So what's the deal with veggie pizza?
Why ruin something as perfect as pizza with fruit's less-popular and less-liked cousin, vegetables?
Vegetables aren't good — there is a reason why you have to cover them in ranch dressing and cheese to make them taste semi-edible.
I've never said, "Hey, do you know what this pizza is missing? Lawn clippings — now it will taste good!"
A pizza is a dish reserved for tons of meat, cheese, spices and whatever else you can think of to throw on it that will make your stomach hurt later.
When I was young, if you asked me what I wanted to be when I grew up, my answer probably would have depended upon what stage of life I was in when you were asking.
I went through the presidential phase, where my one and only desire was to grow up, become president and change the world.
Another stage I flew through was the scientist phase, which allowed me to dream of growing up, discovering the cure to some disease and changing the world.
And of course, I went through the "whatever dad is" stage, where I wanted to be a carpenter like my dad was.
Neat commercial. Ear wax cleaner. Safe, easy to use. No more cotton sticks in the ear to puncture the eardrum. Great idea. Only twenty bucks.
Wait a minute. What are they saying now? Two for the price of one. We need one for each ear? Hold on there. That might not be a bad idea. Now there’s no need for a quick search for a hostess gift for the next party invite.
Oops, the guy is still talking. What’s this about a small processing and handling fee for that second one?
This coming week, I'll be moving the rest of my things into my newly-renovated 1900-ish house and will officially become a resident of the fine community of DeLancey, better known to many as Adrian.
With the pending move, I started to get the itch for some new things last week. For example, I had a few plates and such, but I didn't have enough to host company if I had a housewarming party, so I decided to purchase a few new ones.
What a busy few weeks it has been since I last took pen to paper or fingers to keyboard — and it seems we are obsessed with the color green.
Here's what been happening: March Madness, Shamrock Shakes and Punxsy Phil has been indicted!
Yeah, this just in, breaking news, our own Punxsy Phil was accused of blowing his prediction of an early spring by a prosecutor in Cincinnati who must have nothing better to do than to indict groundhogs on a wrong prediction of when spring will arrive.
While I understand the importance of surrounding ourselves with silence on occasion, I must say that I'm not a fan of being somewhere that is completely quiet.
If I'm in a room, you can almost bet that there's either a television giving the latest sports news or a radio blaring something — from country to classic rock to Trans Siberian Orchestra (which is what I listen to when writing my columns!).
I like music for at least two reasons — it drowns out the silence that leaves me to think about whatever I'm trying to stop thinking about, and it speaks to me.
It's been a while since I had the chance to write an article about a sports game, as my change to editor some time back pulled me out of the sports realm and made it so that my schedule actually prevented me from attending most games.
Still, last Saturday, as I sat in the stands at the District IX basketball playoffs, I couldn't shake the constant urge to be looking for "the story" — and more importantly, the perfect headline — for the game as it unfolded.
