When I'm Sixty Four

I saw some silly stuff this week: In'N'Out Mom (see below). NASCAR fans in Vegas (clutching their Buds, with their baseball caps with race-car numbers on the front, the numbers leaning into the wind, or something -- "24" -- their round bellies straining against their denim shirts while, in their best Jeff Foxworthy voices, they plan their weekend: "Hey, Bobby Jo, the Busch race don't start 'til Saturday afternoon; we can pardee all night Friday!" )

But the neatest thing I saw this week was the elderly couple walking through the hotel lobby ahead of me. They could have been in their seventies. They appeared to be in good health and good spirits, and were nicely dressed. I see a lot of old people in Vegas. Many of them look sad, tired, bored, or just plain worn out. But this couple was different. What I noticed as they walked, side by side, was that the husband was reaching over and gently, almost absent-mindedly, touching, stroking, his wife's back as they walked along. Kind of a combination of guiding her along and just giving her a little "love pat." But it was not the feeble gesture of an old man helping his less-than-fully-capable old wife. It was more like the kind of gesture you'd see a young man make toward his girlfriend or bride. It was sweet and entirely appropriate. It said "I've been with you for forty years, but I'm still crazy about you." Anyway, it was just obvious that he was still "in love" with her. And it was the highlight of my day.

The In'N'Out Mom

I see stuff I think is strange. Don't know if it's strange to anyone else. But it is to me. Like the other day, I decided to lift my In'N'Out moratorium and go get a double-double for lunch. I'm enjoying my stuff-fried-in-grease when a young mother walks in with two little boys in tow. She looked like one of those moms on "The Real Housewives of Orange County" -- you know, 32, hip-hugger designer jeans, "Bebe" top, obscene rock on her finger. Her two boys looked like they were maybe 6 and 8 years old - maybe a year or two older. It was about 3 in the afternoon, and the boys had their schoolbooks and stuff, so I'm guessing they'd come straight from school. They sit down and she pulls out a big planning calendar. I'm thinking, oh, working mom checking her appointment book. Then I hear her start busting her young lads' chops about their school schedules: "You had a math quiz today? Why didn't you tell me!!!" The planning calendar wasn't hers; it was for keeping all those 1st grade tests and quizes and spelling bees and color-the-map assignments straight! (Now that I think about it, all that color-the-map stuff doesn't even come until, oh, maybe the 4th grade, does it? I mean, whose mom uses a planning calendar to make sure you're at the head of the class in the 1st grade?) I'm thinking, "Lady, you're just a tad obsessive here." Next thing I notice is that she's picked up their food, but it's not your normal everyday In'N'Out meal. Sitting in front of each of the two boys were two stacked hamburger patties topped with cheese. No bun. No dressing. No lettuce. No onions. No tomato. No nuttin'. Okay, fine, maybe they're doing Atkins or something. (But the boys? Give me a break.) And to add insult to injury, she reaches across the table and starts cutting each of the boys' double patties into bite-sized pieces with a knife and fork! Give me a break! The kids can't cut their own hamburger patties? Do they go to the bathroom alone, for crying out loud? What's up with that? It was pathetic.

there's a first time for everything

Okay. I'm now a blogger. My daughter's been a blogger forever. My wife's threatening to become a blogger. I beat her to it. I have so much to say. Can't wait to get started. Bye, bye. (That's what the flight attendants say when you walk off the airplane. All five of them. Sometimes the pilot too. When he feels like schmoozing -- like his schmoozing is gonna pump up the airline's stock price, or something. Always wonder why they bother.)

Okay. Bye, bye for real.