Everyone nees to be special. It's one of the rules of modern life. Those days when folks suffered along in silence and anonimty are gone. There are just too many people, modern life is just to frenetic. Anymore, if some
one is doggedly trudging down the rainy road of life, Whack! they'll get it right in the kisser by some guy barreling by in a Hummer without mudflats.
Being special is fine in moderation and as long as everyone gets their turn. The problem is that some people carry this "being special" business to excess and the rest of are expected to go along. We see this a lot on TV when a football wide receiver catches a long ball for a touchdown and ESPN makes us endure his celebration antics.

Hormones and bio-chemicals are greatly overlooked. As you got older you realize how much our your life has been prompted by biochemical signals. Feelings of appiness, fear, pleasure and lust are usually just the reponse to some chemical released by a tiny gland somewhere in your body or from somewhere in the depths of your brain stem.
Now take testosterone. It does all kinds of things for everyone. men, of course, more than women. It builds muscle mass, stimulates energy and hair growth. Men are just flooded with testosterone in their late-teens and early twenties, and then after we have done our little bit for genetic diversity, it's all down hill from there. Of course, civilized lifestyles have changed the timeline quite a bit but our genetic coding has never caughtup.
Anyway, the older you get the less testerone is produced with the obvious results. A friend of mine who probably would prefer to remain nameless and blameless, once espoused the theory that as the amount of testosterone a man's body produces decreases, there is an increase in the amount of another undiscovered hormone we can call the Cranky Man Hormone. The older you get the more of the hormone is produced. I was running around touting this theory, until my wife instructed me that this is a bad theory and a really lame excuse for being cranky.

First of all they are not my chickens and ducks -- the are Lorraine's animals. They have names, but I don't even know what they are. Today I am working on the computer and the ducks started pecking at the deck window expectantly. When I turn, they just stare at me. Who knows what a duck wants? After a while I noticed two chickens staring at me through the front window. I looked at them and they started clucking and pecking at the window. Like the ducks, they look like they are bored and want to some one to play with. It's quite an load to be expected to entertain poultry. . .

Bobby McFerrin had it right -- Simple pleasures are the best. Consider the new generation label printers. Is your life is in disorder? Putting labels on things and things will automatically start snapping your organizational issues into easy to organized and classify categories -- 10-penny nails, flat-head screws, paint thinner, white bread flour, sugar, basil, small-throated g-nocks, 100-graine point, reference books, ducks, spin-vane tape, garlic powder, Lorraine, wide egg noddles, motor oil, Janice, Angelina, chickens. Try it it works!
That is except for cats. It's really hard to get an adhesive label to stick on a cat.

I've read a few blogs lately which seem to be very personal diaries of the authors journey through life. What they see walking down the street, self-analysis of their dreams ("I was being chased by a huge monster which had the head of my sixth-grade teacher.") "Does that girl I met when I was 22 still think of me?" or a scientific analysis of where belly button lint comes from.
This blog will only post significant thoughts, uh, which, I guess, why there are significant gaps in the dates of the postings and, uh, which, I guess, why there aren't very many.

I've been told by my wife that she'd prefer -- make that insists -- that I not be cranky. That would put the title of this blog in danger. Hmmm. A dilemna Marital Harmony vs. an Anti-Hero Personna. Well, it was a pretty lame personna anyway. Look for more posts about flowers and soft, fuzzy puppies.

Its getting to be the dog days of August now. Which means it's turning from baseball season into football season -- whether we like it or not. Mostly what pro football fans seem to do is sit for the sofa for hours watching other guys hammer each other into submission while ignoring the fact that most of the team probably won't last out the season. It also seems to require a lot of grunting. If you are older and need to relearn how to grunt, you can watch Fox Sports for a remedial. I still don't get it though. It would seem by watching TV that there are vast areas of the country where grow men gather in rooms with mass quantities of beer, grunt and watch people artlessly smash into each other. Myself, I watch the Seahawks . . . when no one is looking . . . and it's after baseball season . . . after the chores are done. .. and, uh, when I don't think anyone will catch me. One more time from the top "I,m a man, I can change, if I have to . . ."

Now we have chickens?!?! Your basic scrawny 2 mcnugget chickens. They basically wander in circles and cluck, which is pretty much what you'd expect chickens to do. Not much to watch. One did drop an egg they other day. Kind of small 2 mcnugget egg. Lorraine now follows the chickens around yelling at them to pop out more eggs. There should be a rule to live by here. The only one I can think of is "Don't be a chicken."

This is my first note and strangely enough I can't think of anything to write. Figures!