It's All About the Pants

***first para to be read in a deep voice, with a hand to one ear like the guy doing v/o for a movie trailer***

In a world where global warming screws with our temperature-focused brains I stand tall - well, at least 5'10' - among my neighbours and friends and wear shorts at the crack of spring. No, that's not a euphemism for having forgotten my belt. It's an expression of optimism. You might say that in my house April showers lose long May trousers. (Yeah, I thought of that myself.)

Cargo shorts, golf shorts, cut-offs - you name it, I can't wait to expose my scrawny little legs to all and sundry not to mention all the sunshine. It's as if someone brainwashed me, like in that movie Manchurian Candidate - the one with Frank Sinatra, not Denzil Washington - into wearing shorts from May to October. Thankfully I do not cluck like a chicken.

And once I don shorts there's no going back. Let the temperature take an unseasonable dip, I'm still wearing my shorts. Like several weeks back when I went to see my three grandkids play hockey in two different arenas. Cold? Like, yeah - I don't know if you knew this or not but they play hockey on ice, eh. And I wore my shorts. And now I have a cold. And like my wife told me ahead of time to wear long pants. And I thought to myself "Long pants? Bah. It isn't even October yet".

So now I have a cold and long pants. But it wasn't easy. For me the first sign of autumn isn't a date or coloured leaves or brisk, foggy mornings or early sunsets or NFL football or the end of Master Chef or even the new TV fall line-up. It's long pants. More to the point, I have discovered, it's attempting to pull up those long pants over a somewhat protruding belly that's a little more protruding than it was in May when it started to run unchecked and unbelted. I wonder if I may have had a few too many Sausage/Egg McMuffins over the summer.

I may now need a professional to brainwash me into cutting back on those McMuffins not to mention getting into my pants. Cluck, cluck.

The Studio30+ prompt was brainwash/gaslight this week. I always thought gaslight was something else but I may have been brainwashed on that.

30 Days of Photos III #4 Sour

Check out Ziva's Inferno for the rest of today's photos.

My Back Pages - November

I know, I know, I know I should have reported in before now. But sometimes real life just gets in the way. I attempted 5 books in November. I say attempted because I slapped a big DNF (did not finish) on Neal Stephenson's Cryptonomicon. I just can't seem to get into this guy. It's the second or third of his I've given up on, Not so the other four, starting with a biography of Stephen Stills called Change Partners. This followed by a hilarious biography of the guy responsible for National Lampoon called A Stupid and Futile Gesture - How Doug Kenney and National Lampoon Changed Comedy Forever. I ended the month reading yet another biography, this one of the man behind Rolling Stone magazine,. It was called Sticky Fingers: The Life and Times of Jann Wenner and Rolling Stone Magazine. A fascinating read. So last month I hit the magic number 50 I'd imagined for myself back in January. If I roll this month into my yearly total I'm at 54 books. And I still hav...

30 Days of Writing - Day #1 - Cheese

Well, here we go again folks. As if it weren't enough that I knocked myself out in April participating in 30 Days of Photos, now dear Nicky and Mike over at We Work For Cheese have corralled a bunch of us suckers into a 30 Days of Writing exercise. Yeah, I know. I must have stupid written backwards on my forehead. I don't know how they figured it out. They would have had to look in my mirror to realize it. Anyhoo, the first day's theme is - surprise, surprise - cheese. And here are the internet imbeciles Nicky and Mike managed to sucker into to this little exercise: Well, first off there's me! Once you've read my post you can visit: Mike and Nicky , Cheryl , If I Were God , Katherine , Laughing Mom , Linda M , Malisa , MikeWJ , Sandra , Leeuna and Still Unfinished . Okay, who cut the cheese? Well growing up in my house it was usually my mother. She prepared and served the food and the knife ...

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