Point of No Return
Labor. Day. Weekend. Those are three words that carry significant weight in our little slice of heaven by the shore.
It’s still in there.
You want to know what’s a good time?
Yes, picking through a bunch of steamed crabs with your friends while enjoying some cold adult beverages is definitely a good time. And, sure, hanging out on the beach with your loved ones on a “Sunday Funday” is always a good time. And I suppose calling that number etched into the wall in the bathroom stall that promises a good time could do just that, but Tom Maglio doesn’t always answer his home phone, so there are no guarantees on that one.
On occassion, I have “filter” issues.
No, not the kind of filter one would find with an air conditioning unit, nor the kind that keeps coffee grounds out of your cup every morning. I’m talking about that metaphorical internal filter we’re all supposed to possess that provides us guidance in terms of what information we should share outwardly, and what we would best be served just keeping to ourselves.
It’s the one that has saved millions of marriages over the years when a husband is asked, “Do I look fat in this?” The one that kicks in to offer a breath of sanity when a guy built like a Mack truck on steroids looks directly into your eyes at a bar and asks, “You got something to say?”
Greetings from Roxana!
Well, technically I’m writing this from my comfy chair in the air-conditioned Coastal Point Worldwide Headquarters in Ocean View, but the majority of my time this week has been spent in Roxana, sitting on hard bleachers with my head turning a kaleidoscope of colors from an unrelenting sun, while an army of partially-digested hot dogs practiced marching drills in my belly.
And it has been awesome.
Tommy, Tommy, Tommy.
As journalists, we’re not supposed to root for things.
Somewhere after cursing out my fantasy baseball team and trying to learn how to juggle chicken tenders on YouTube during an Internet marathon the other night, I stumbled across an interesting series of blogs written by Janet Lindenmuth on the Widener University law library website.
There’s a lot to be said for that big puddle of water over to our east.
We are currently a nation that is, at best, divided.
Here’s a fun exercise...
Clear your mind of all the day-to-day stresses that are overtaking it at any given time. That’s it. Just close your eyes, pull back on a deep breath and let your subconscious wander off to a place of abject nothingness. You there? Good, let’s do this.
There are a few ways to easily get a rise out of people in this community.
Perhaps there’s no greater mystery regarding the human psyche than the concept of fear.
I’ve had people tell me that no matter how old my daughter gets, I will always picture her in my mind’s eye as being a little girl with pigtails and food smashed across her face.
We are an ever-evolving nation, to be sure.
Many of us have that metaphorical little engine inside us that drives us.
Have you ever found yourself behind THAT person in line?
For years, this week’s column has been one of my favorites to write.
It’s simple, but it’s not.
According to a recent story on abcnews.com, a Sacramento woman recently ate three 72-ounce steak dinners in about 20 minutes during a food challenge held at The Big Texan Steak Ranch in Amarillo, Texas.
When we stop learning, we stop growing.
Those are valued words that have bounced around my scattered brain for years now, though I can’t remember if I was gifted them by a parent, a teacher or a creepy dude in a trench coat I once encountered by some poorly-lit docks. Regardless, they have stuck with me, and I’ve noticed over the years that the more I learn, the more I realize how ignorant I truly am.
Well, it seems as if there’s a little more clarity now in regards to the 2016 presidential election.
Anybody who has been in a relationship has been there.
According to scientific research (Editor’s Note: There is absolutely no “scientific” or “research” to what I’m about to say), those two words are used more frequently in the month of March than any other time during the year.
Well, this story struck me deep in the cockles of my fear zone.
So, you remember that scene in the movie?
There aren’t many things that genuinely frighten me.
Though this will probably come as a great surprise to my loyal readers (Hi, Mom!), I made a bit of a wisecrack the other day about the recent spell of cold weather we’ve been experiencing.
In response, someone asked me if I wouldn’t miss the changing seasons if I packed up my toys and moved to a shack on the equator, escaping the chilly winters forever while learning the traditions and culture of the gentle equator people (I know. Don’t email me. It was a joke, folks.)
Regardless, her question reminded me of a simpler time in my life — before marriage, fatherhood and Netflix — when I first moved to California. It was about a week before the Washington Redskins played the Buffalo Bills in the Super Bowl, and the temperature was about 65 degrees, from what I remember. At that time, I thought I had found the happiest place on earth.
There were beautiful people everywhere I turned. Everybody’s cars were sparkling clean, unencumbered by the ravages of road salt or that slushy disgusting stuff that makes it into our wheel wells every winter. And the climate was amazing. The only thing... Sorry. I got distracted. It’s just so weird to think about a Super Bowl featuring the Washington Redskins and Buffalo Bills. I mean, Toilet Bowl, sure, but Super Bowl? The Redskins and Bills? It’s like two slow-witted pigs waging battle on Final Jeopardy for all...
But I digress.
I loved that first winter in California, and weather was a major part of that affection. The summer came around, and that was another great part of living there. It got a bit warmer. I attended a ton of baseball games. And I made a good friend who was also from the East Coast, so we went on various explorations to enjoy all the Golden State had to offer. It was truly a great time.
However, after spending about two years there, it hit me that I missed the changing of the seasons. The leaves didn’t turn color. We never really hit my beloved “sweater weather.” And there was never a two- or three-week period where you could see the flowers all spring to life at once. Indeed, I missed the seasons.
But I feel that it’s important to note that I never mentioned that I missed standing thigh-deep in a snow drift while I moved and scraped snow and ice off my car to go to work in the morning. Nor did I mention that I missed trying to have a conversation with someone outside while we both did disgusting things to the sleeves of our coats to prevent disgusting things from rolling down our respective faces during said conversation. And I know for a fact that I never missed putting on boots, a hat, gloves and seven layers of clothing to take out the trash, then having to take them all off again as soon as I walked back in the door for fear of creating a Slip ’N Slide in the hallway when later walking in my socks.
So, yeah, I did miss the changing of the seasons, but I would have been happy with a changing of just three seasons.
Sometimes, things make me smile which probably shouldn’t make me smile.