Just how old am I?
You ever get that feeling that the group of adults you’re in, even though they’re technically your ‘peers’, is older than you?
I took Pookie to the second of the birthday parties this weekend, and this one was much easier on me. The hosts of the party were very good about making sure it wasn’t completely centered on the kids by keeping adult munchies in the kitchen and basically letting the kids play on their own. It was at their house, too, which was a big help.
Anyway, after standing around and chatting with the other parents for a while, I realized that they’re all several years older than me, most of them somewhere in the middle of their 40’s, and what a difference those extra years make. I suddenly felt that I didn’t really fit. It’s not like I was labeled ‘outsider’ or anything, I just knew that no matter what, the only time I would ever willingly spend time with these folks was for my daughter’s sake.
Of course, it didn’t help any that the other fathers were almost all your basic beer-swilling sports fan stereotype. I get along ok with them, but find I get along slightly better with the mothers. One in particular seems to come from my side of the world, as we have similar tastes in music and even know a couple of the same drag queens. (That’s a scary thought.)
Another interesting tidbit of gleaned info:
There is a company here in Oregon that is developing what is known in Sci-Fi dom as a “Bones McCoy” – an injection device that doesn’t use needles to penetrate the skin. (Also called an air hypo.)
This goes to show you that there are alot of inventive people here in the Beaver State – other Oregonian inventions include cable television, the Phillips-head screwdriver, the hacky sack, the computer mouse(!), the Fosbury Flop high-jump technique and the Erector Set building toy.
Maybe the Oregon motto of “She flies with her own wings” should include the number to the Patent Office.
Hollerings