Tailgated
On my daily commute, I travel a number of country roads. While the speed limits sit at 40 pretty much the whole way, I prefer this route over any other…
Reading Comprehension
I deservedly earned a reputation for not paying attention to the little things early in life.
I hate to think of how much money my mother spent on winter gloves and hats to replace the ones I lost. I didn’t mean to lose them. I just didn’t always pay attention to what I did with them when I didn’t have them on my body.
She also had to continually remind me that when she asked me to look for something, I needed to actually move other things to find it. Standing and staring at a shelf didn’t cut it. I didn’t see anything wrong with that because if it was important, why would someone put it behind something else?
As I have grown up, I have managed to slightly improve in this area. Some of it I credit to my 10 years as a reporter. Working as a “trained observer” helped me notice things a little better. Well, when I felt like it.
I still have trouble noticing an additional item in a room, a new haircut or, in the case of a recent outing with my wife, the number above the door at the movies.
If My Head Weren’t Attached …
For a while, I convinced myself that I had merely been forgetful. I realized I did not have my wallet when I headed for home one night, but I just assumed I had left it behind and would find it when I returned.
That happened a little while ago when I left Hanover Little Theatre after a show (I hope you were able to make our recent run – it was a blast). Within 24 hours, acknowledgement of my absent-mindedness had turned into near panic.
Before that, I spent Friday at work expecting to find my wallet somewhere backstage. I had done a quick check of my credit cards and saw no activity. The thing had to be sitting with my props or, worst case, on the floor somewhere nearby.
Book Review: One Last Thing Before I Go
I expected to spend today in a delightful state as I prepared to go listen to Jonathan Tropper speak in Harrisburg after work. The acclaimed novelist has an appearance there…
The 2016 Campaign Begins Here
I think all of us breathed a collective sigh of relief last Wednesday when the barrage of political ads and telephone calls ended. I don’t know about you, but I…
Until Next Time, Beardy
Like the rest of us, I spent part of last week anxiously sitting and waiting to see what kind of punch Sandy would pack. Most people thankfully avoided major trouble…
Questioning My Loyalty
I often keep watching TV shows simply out of habit or because I feel a sense of loyalty after putting hours and hours into finding out where the characters will…
Viewing TV Differently
I originally intended to write regularly about TV. Then I got cast in a play and my general laziness just crept up, and that plan kind of went by the wayside. That doesn't…
Costume Regret
Because of another commitment, I didn’t get a chance to help out at our house during Trick or Treat night last week. This marked the second straight year I couldn’t check out what cool costumes the kids (and their parents) put together.
I realize my daughter will eventually outgrow trick-or-treating, but I feel better knowing I can live vicariously through the costumes of other people’s children.
I find this very important because it serves as a sort of therapy from a disastrous costume experience I had as a child.
Crabcake Confusion
To be honest, I got a little cocky. I can only blame myself.
My wife went away for a few days recently, leaving me in charge of everything – the house, the meals and our daughter. I had complete control.
In the days and weeks leading up to this time, Bridget and I giggled over having the freedom to not put a clip on a bag of cereal of chips, just daring the food to go a little bit stale. In other words, I showed my true maturity level.
When we had the house to ourselves, we didn’t go nearly as crazy as we may have intimated, but we certainly had a little bit of extra fun. We didn’t have many bags we could leave unclipped, but we turned the TV up a little louder than usual and had no regard for normal rules of when the day’s newspaper moved from the dining room table to the recycling pile.
Like you, I am amazed the police never showed up to calm us down.