How old are you?

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from wikimedia commons/author rich007

So I'm proving a point AND writing my blog.  I can blog and watch TV at the same time.  I can watch TV and blog at the same time.  Cool.

So I'm watching this special on PBS; Paul McCartney, 'scuse me, SIR Paul McCartney is receiving the Gershwin Lifetime Achievement Award for Songwriting.  I didn't know what the special was about; I'll admit I was channel-surfing looking for anything when I spotted Sir McCartney being interviewed about the upcoming performances.  I thought he was doing all the singing, but it turns out he opened the performances and then relinquished the stage.

I started thinking about age because Sir McCartney sounds darn good for his age!  I mean, the man is in his 60's and, though his voice roughens on the upper notes, he sounds like the Paul McCartney I listened to in high school.  I watched the Obamas and realized they were 15-20 years younger than Sir McCartney.  (I looked it up:  McCartney was born in 1942 and Obama in 1961.)  Holy cow!  Barack and Michelle  probably didn't even listen to Wings when they were in high school!  President Obama is just a year older than my sister; I wonder if he was a fan of Shaun Cassidy, too.  (smirk)  The smirk is for my sister; she doesn't like being reminded of her high school crush.  

So first Sir McCartney sang "Got to Get You Into My Life".  Then Stevie Wonder sang - and Stevie sounds great and looks great, too.  Then the announcer introduced the Jonas Brothers.  Who?  The cameras panned to the two Obama girls; they were lit up like Christmas trees!  Oh yea, the Jonas Brothers.  They came out and sang a Beatles hit (They were singing it when I started typing and I've forgotten the song  I'm going on memory here, folks.)  and they were GREAT!  They could have been the young Beatles; their voices were pitch perfect and their accompaniment was spot on.  The Obama girls were experiencing the Beatles almost as I experienced them.  Young, good-looking guys singing and having a great time.

(Elvis Costello is singing Penny Lane right now.  Not so pitch-perfect, but hey!  it's Elvis Costello!)

The whole age thing blows me away at times.  Last week I was taking my morning vitamins and our summer intern Jenn was watching me.

"Fish oil," I explained.

"Oh," she nodded.  "My grandfather takes that."

%*$(#*%&#(*$#

the more things stay the same....

When I walked through the kitchen door yesterday the first thing I saw was garbage all over the floor.  I gasped, but I did not yell or scream or flail my arms.  As I stood there the FLB* trotted up with his tail wagging.  I glared at him and pointed at the mess.  He looked.  Then he remembered.  Oh.  His tail lowered and his whole body slumped.  All I said was, "Bed.".  He slunk off to his doggie bed.

I didn't have to clean up the worst of the garbage: a handful of chicken fat cut from some chicken breasts, gooey barbecue sauce, and a hairball cleaned up a couple days ago.  The FLB* ate those treats.  So my part of the cleanup was pretty quick.

Of course I'm waiting for the denouement.  He ate raw chicken fat and a hairball.  I'm sure there will be some gagging drama in the middle of the night soon.  Sigh.

After I cleaned up the mess and did some other chores I decided to release the FLB* from his timeout and take him outside.  I wanted to get my two new plants out of the car.  One plant with tiny purple flowers at the end of its long green leaves looked like it had some white spots on some of the leaves, so I decided to leave it outside and spray-wash it for a few days before bringing it into the house.  As I set the plant on my patio a tiny 3"  lizard leaped from the plant to my hand.  I heard a shriek and I think there were some body tremors before the lizard jumped from my hand to the patio.  I'm proud to say I did not wet my pants...not even a little.

I do have some sad news.  My houseplant palm tree did not survive.  I'm not sure what happened.  This was the plant that the FLB* liked to sniff around and stare at.  I thought I watered it carefully but it started to yellow and brown and before long it was dead.  When I took it to the street to be added to the yard waste pile I thought I saw the blinds move in my living room.  Was the FLB* watching me?  Was he...laughing?
I purchased a replacement palm last week and so far it looks wonderful in the living room and the FLB* seems to be ignoring it.

I have some great news, too.  I have a new grandson.  Evan Philip Carter was born less than 30 minutes before Fathers' Day.  He is beautiful and sweet and cuddly.  Here is his one month old picture:

And this is little Evan with his big brother 3-yr-old Noah.  It looks like Noah is sucking the brain right out of Evan, but he's counting to 5 while kissing his little brother - as directed by his mom so she can get the photo.

*FLB = Harley, mixed terrier.