A young lady goes shopping

Shopping for clothes with my daughter used to be easy. When she was young.

There was nothing to it. We would walk into a store, I would grab the first shirt that had a bear or a giraffe on it, she would coo and shout, “I LOVE it!!!” and before you could say, “lickety split,” we were on the way to the cash register.

How things change when you hit the teenage years. When your daughter turns 13 and fashions herself a fashionista. Someone who can strut about a store, trying on everything, saying things like, “Darling, I think that looks di-VINE on you,” and thinking her father is not only made of money, but doesn’t mind plunking it down over this or that.

An $84 crop top with a manufactured hole to look like a rat ate it? Yes, please!

She’s no longer young.

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Lost in a ‘Game of Thrones’ world

I am really starting to feel like I’m the only person on the planet who hasn’t watched “Game of Thrones.” Am I it? Anyone else feeling this way? Anyone else feeling left out in the cold because you haven’t spent the last however many years watching every episode and waxing poetically about its fight scenes and killer dragons. Do you find that people are constantly coming up to you and saying, “Dude! What do you mean you don’t watch ‘Thrones?!?’ Are you like on some religious fast or something?”

In fact, scientists at the Search for Extraterrestrial Intelligence (SETI) have just announced that they received a signal from outer space with a message that read, “Did Daerneys really go and [SPOILER ALERT] last week? Because that was REALLY messed up, man. We’re freakin’ out here!”

I have absolutely no idea what they’re talking about. Want to talk Avengers? I got you covered. Need to discuss the arc of the next “Star Wars,” and I’m all over it. Got some theories about “The Lego Movie.” OK, I’m not totally following, but I’ll give it a whirl.

But “Game of Thrones?” I have absolutely no clue. I’ve never watched more than a handful of scenes, and the only reason I know any character’s name is because people constantly get in my face and say: “Dude, what do you mean you don’t know who ‘Cersei’ is?” … and then ask if I’m on a religious fast.

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Trying for some spontaneity to make travels ‘happier’

It’s hard to explain my visceral reaction to the article. Just reading the headline left me in an emotional pretzel: anger, revulsion, disdain, dismissal, disbelief.

I steamed and growled!

It was about a survey that found people who are spontaneous travelers also tend to be happier.

WHAT?!?!

“That’s utter malarkey,” said the guy who had just pulled an all-nighter researching rental cars and driving Ireland’s Wild Atlantic Way … and had no idea whether malarkey was a kind of fish or something you scrape off your shoe.

Spontaneous?!?

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Hey mom: A few ground rules for calling at work

Dear mom,

First off, happy Mother’s Day! Wow, it’s been 46 years and you’re still there for me, continuing to “parent” me and tell me when to put my napkin in my lap or how to properly chew my food. Am I the luckiest son in the world, or what?

Anyway, I wanted to say I’m sorry I got mad at you for calling me this week … at work … in the middle of the day. It’s just that it’s work, and it was the middle of the day, and I recognize that there are emergencies when you need to call me, but I just didn’t feel that a bird flying into your house and perching itself on the fireplace qualified.

Why? Well, for starters, you left the screen door open. That was just a pure invitation to neighborhood wildlife that they had every right to come in and take a look around. Secondly, the bird willingly flew back out, causing no damage, inflicting no violence on your or your cats and generally breaking no laws, aside from trespassing, which most lawyers will tell you is going to be exceedingly hard to prove in court.

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Coming to terms with a daughter’s ear adornment

She brushed her hair back in a flourish … over her ear. Something glimmered. And sparkled.

Gasp! Are those …

I do notice things, even though I’m just an oblivious male, the type of species that has gone hours before recognizing its own body parts are on fire. Hey! It was easy to miss. There was a basketball game one!

But I had noticed this.

Are those … Are Those … ARE THOSE … EARRINGS!?!

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Days of track and field … and the dangers that came with it

How the memories came flooding back in. There we were, at a middle school track meet. The first for my daughter since joining her school’s team.

If you’ve never participated in a track meet then you’ve missed out on one of life’s unforgettable experiences. It is also the closest thing to war that most of us will ever see. There are super sharp javelins flying in every direction. There is constant gunfire from starter pistols. People are always running for their lives or rolling around on the ground in agony … sometimes with javelins sticking out of their ribs. And coaches sound like brave generals giving poetic and inspirational talks that basically revolve around: “If you’re gonna’ die, then today is a great day to do it.”

WHAT?!? Die?!? I’m running one time around the track, coach! What the heck are you talking about?

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The great porch cat infestation

Great! Porch cats! Oh man, how in the world did it come to this?

When our good neighbor passed away last year, her two cats, who had themselves adopted her years before, went in search of a new place to eat and lay their heads at night. Porch cats are funny like that: Kind of nomadic. Never bitter or too down about their luck. Resourceful and enterprising. Unfazed and upbeat.

Most of all, they can always spot a sucker.

Exhibit A: My front porch.

I have my daughter to thank for this. A lot of people left food out. Offered to help. Pitched in.
That’s what neighborhoods do. They pull together and help those in need. They take each other in, and care for everyone. Porch cats included.

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The all-over creaky, sore funk

Sore. So … sore. Not pain. Pain is more specific. It signals injury. That you hurt one thing, in one specific place. It’s isolated. But not sore. Sore is everywhere. Sore is kind of a … creaky funk? An all-over malaise. An affliction. A general misery.

Sore is … well … sore is getting older.

This occurred to me the other day as I bent over to pick up a piece of trash outside my office. Thanks to gravity, I had no trouble getting down there. But as I faced the prospect of standing back up, my body creaked and groaned like a diesel-belching steam shovel. “OWWCHHHH!” I moaned as I got back to my feet. It must have been terrifying because two college students observing this whole episode in the hallway stared in horror. “Are you ok?” they asked. I think they nearly ran to get a defibrillator. Or maybe a shovel, figuring it was better to whack me over the head, put me out of my misery and bury me in the back parking lot.

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A failed multitasker’s search for focus

I got excited when I heard the webinar instructor mention that only 2 percent of the population could be considered this: super multitaskers. Doesn’t it sound cool? Super troopers. Superman. Superstar. Super duper. Superfluous.

But “super multitasker?” Now, that would be truly special!

And maybe I was one.

He was about to give us a quiz that would test our ability to multitask. He said no one he had come across yet fell into that category of amazing people, but maybe today would be the day. “Yeah, maybe today,” I thought. “Maybe I’m the Golden Multitasker!”

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The positives of pollen season

Ah, pollen season. That special time of year when the glorious temperatures that we Floridians finally get to experience are ruined by a rain of tiny particles that clog our eyes, stuff up our lungs and generally cover the world in a thick film of yellow crud. Thanks, flowers! But pollen provides many benefits, and I’m not just talking about the very necessary pollination effect, which I would describe in great scientific detail … if I had any clue what that was.

So, instead I want to expound upon the virtues of pollen season by offering some of the many important upsides that come with the so-called “pollenpocalypse.”

• It gives you the chance to try out a yellow car.

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