My old pal Damon refers to middle-age as “The Second Half”. It certainly feels like it’s later in the game than I’m used to. At least mid way through. Some days more than others. When my knees crack and I can no longer sit for long periods of time (which is really bad for you, anyway!) without my hip hurting, I am reminded of how long I’ve been around. I’m not really old or anything, but I am definitely not young. AARP is tirelessly whittling away at a plastic log as I write, carving out my discount card for the next three or so years. A visit to Chicago last fall had another old pal, Wayne, reminding me that I no longer walk around saying… “but Wayne, we’re still really young! We have so much time!”, referring to us, like I used to, back when we were young.
I accidentally just found out that Ashton Kutcher and Mila Kunis are together… expecting a child no less! How did I not know about this already? I think it’s been going on for a while now, at least publicly. But I am really out of touch, apparently, with popular culture. I am not certain it is such a bad thing. Speaking of which, I had to shut down that nasty Facebook again the other night. I really hate it. I hate the time I allow it to take away from me actually doing something. Not that I spend that much time on it, but recently it seems like any time in that place is too much.
20 Fingers, 20 Toes 
I’m on my second major Facebook retirement. The first time I went away for a year and a half. I think. Two years? Went back on and hated it. Seeing only posts from four people I already email frequently. Dumb. Then the damned thing told me that “someone misses you; you should post on their wall.” Except the someone had died about a month before.
Dumb dumb dumb. So email me instead. More productive.
The piece heading this post is gorgeous. Love it.