Cooler than You: Stupid Things I Say and Do

As spring has been slow to rise, life has not been slow on the upswing as we find ourselves saying closer to middle age than not.  Yea . . . I look around, when in the hell did I hit middle aged? Somewhere between 1992 and now I would presume.  Closer to now, but the exact date . . . probably when I started making millennial jokes (some deserving, some just me getting on mid life snark).  Anywho, while I haven’t posted here in a month I have been appearing around the web.   Yes, another moment when I look around and say “how in the hell did that happen?” Let’s see, my main press did an author interview with me.   In it I reveal the secrets of life, love, and happiness.  Okay, well if you’ve either met me or read on here you already know that I long eschewed faith in long term love relationships . . . but, the sides of me that people like certainly appear.  The editors, intern, and such all enjoyed it very much.  Enjoy, if you will....

Bras.  Now there's a thousand dollar subject.  The cost of them, the shape of them, of the fit  of them . . . last ready to wear bra I bought set me back just shy of a hundred bucks.  Yea, a bill man . . . And, to make it even better it was just okay.  Like every other bra I've ever owned it was comfortable for about two wearings and then the real personality appeared.  Yea.  Every woman knows that pain.  Wires digging into you, cutting into the chest bone, or . . . the dreaded jiggle and gap at the cup top.  Okay, the other side . . . spillage.  There's a classy, sexy image.     Any woman will admit--though many will need a bourbon or two to really say it--that a favorite bra, one that fits will get worn until it stinks. You know what I mean. Years later, no amount of soap gets the sweat smell out. Yea. The bra. It's like a woman's inside arm. Of course, 99 percent of bras make us want to rage, pull our hair ou...

137.  137 is the number of items I made this year. I know. Want to know the real number? 177.  I know! 137 is the base number, 177 includes, well, baby pants, a handful of plaintain tees (as in the ones of cotton and not my wool knit on that I love), panties (the "test" run ones and the patterns that work oh so well), those Mabels of summer and fall that got a wee bit smaller as the swimming and running laps toned me, a few run of the mill renfrews, and many briars. Dude. Let's just say I knew that number was up there, but when I went through my notebooks and made the final tally (pawing through the pages three times to make sure I wasn't over counting) my mouth fell open.  Yea, I know. Though, I ran my fifth half marathon this year, went to five countries, finished three articles, taught an unholy amount of courses . . . just so many, presented about six conference papers (which two more are being converted to articles and book chapters these days), wro...