“Mother died yesterday or was it the day before’- The Stranger by Albert Camus
The year was 1982 and I was 13 years-old. Â I sat in my 8th grade English class and listened to our teacher Mrs. Muenster lecture about cheese and existentialism. Ok, that wasn’t her name but I do remember her saying something about wine and cheese. And I most certainly remember reading Camus and then Kafka. That line about mother and the idea of waking up as a giant cockroach are hard to forget, as is one of my fellow students who said that subjects like this call for Bourbon. Back then I didn’t know much at all about alcohol.
My exposure had been limited to the wine we drank at seders and tasting a beer at Busch Gardens. Not surprisingly things have changed between now and then as I know just a little bit about alcohol. Last night at the cocktail reception I had more than my share of Bourbon. I wasn’t close to being drunk but I had enough to wonder if Jim Beam is a real person, or perhaps was.
I don’t need to drink to ask these questions. I am the guy who called Quaker Oats to ask the name of the Quaker on the box. Customer service hung up on me three times. I finally convinced them that it was better to try to answer my question than to have me show up with two tons of Cream of Wheat.
And we move on. The photo above this line is from the trip up to the Pacific Northwest. I left blue skies and temperatures in excess of 90 degrees for rainfall. Midway through the flight I was pleasantly surprised to see much of the land below us covered in snow. While it may not be exciting to you bear in mind that I’ll be 42 in May and can say that I have been in snow no more than 10 times, if that. Furthermore I have never driven in it, not that it matters.
Snow is somewhat novel to me. I much prefer to live in a warmer climate but every now and then I consider the idea or living elsewhere. Actually if I lived in snow country I would probably drink a lot more Bourbon or something similar. Cold weather just doesn’t sound right to me.
Really, at our core we Jews are desert people.
The way I see it snow is anathema, especially when it means having to worry about plows, shovels and knuckleheads who hit you with an icy snowball. That is kind of mean, the icy snowball. Really who takes one of those and sends it flying full speed into some poor unsuspecting sap. Ok, that would be me but I had more than one good reason, I had two.
And we move on. That is a shot of Streetfighter on the Nintendo 3Ds. I wanted to buy that game for me but it wasn’t really age appropriate so I opted for a different game. Of course there was a part of me that wanted to use it to teach my daughter how to boot the boys in the head. Yep, that would make it educational. Use it to teach her how to become Lady Deathstrike, not that I wouldn’t worry about her. I am dad and worrying is something that I am good at- not that I am happy about it. Truth is that I would be happier if I worried less. I’d certainly have more hair. Maybe I need more Bourbon.
And we move on.
That is a shot of the plane I flew home on. I used my fabulous DroidX to capture this shot of lovely Bob Hope Airport in fabulous downtown Burbank. I like walking the stairs to get on and get off. Every time I disembark I make a point of stopping in the doorway. I lift my hand and wave at the imaginary press corps and then hum Hail to the Chief. Did I tell you that other passengers love this. They like it even more when I scream because I saw a monster on the wing. Ok, I don’t really scream- my voice is a bit too deep for that. Don’t want to describe as bellowing either because that is too water buffaloish.
Anyhoo, I went straight from the airport to a birthday celebration for my mom.Â Every now and then she goes through these periods of time where she hugs me like I am six years-old again. I don’t mind. I think that she has a harder time with my age than I do.
Mom doesn’t read my blog but keeps hintingÂ that she wants to. I usually ignore it and change the topic. My parents and I are close. We speak frequently but I am not really sure that I want them in this world. Can’t tell you why other than I just don’t.
Tonight mom asked me to explain how Twitter works and why people read blogs. It was an interesting discussion that evolved into a full blown lecture on what it takes to be a successful blogger and business models that I think aren’t fair or suitable for blogging. Mom cracked me up a few times, especially when she told me that it sounds like I am a social media expert.
Social Media Expert sounds like snake oil salesman to me. Every time I hear that term it makes me cringe. I attribute that to the proliferation of people on Twitter who describe themselves in this manner. Most of them aren’t. Quite a few know next to nothing and capitalize upon the ignorance of others, but let’s save this rant for a different time.
Got more to say but I think that my time with Mr. Beam last night has left me worn out. Lailah tov and good night.