That Little Yellow Pill

My nephew turned thirteen this month and we recreated his yearly birthday that we have had here for at least seven years. My rescue dog, Bear, escaped several times during the fiasco. He has no street savvy and seems to think that our retrieval efforts are a big game, running and smiling as we approach, then jumping right into the Jeep when we finally find him, stop, and open the door. Still, it's a bit hurtful. Don't you like us you big jerk?! As London, his best little companion cries for his return, it's difficult to not harbor resentment and lick wounds until I realize when he gets back he thought the whole thing was a romp and doesn't realize the danger he's in due to his lack of life experience.

Due to several different factors, I told Jack that this summer sucked and then it was over. That ticks me off, because I know how important time is. I've been deaf for the past few weeks due to "barotrauma" or airplane ear and today I watched a few episodes of "That 70s Show" during which the mother said, while posing her kid and his friends for a high school graduation photo, "Now smile for your mothers who spent the past 18 years of their lives living for you. And while you're smiling, think of what we're supposed to do now!!" As she runs out of the room, her son, says, "You're supposed to take that little yellow pill."

The other day at a department store, the lady asked me if I qualified for the senior discount. "What?" I asked, followed by asking what the age cut-off was. I didn't qualify yet which was doubly depressing, but I added, "I couldn't hear you because I just got off a plane and have barotrauma, not because I'm old." DAMNIT.

I wish I had a few of those little yellow pills.