Airports

Forget about the hassles, the lines through security and the over-priced food. There are several things I love about airports:

People watching. There are some weird ducks out there.

Seeing someone embrace. Maybe it's a father returning from a business trip or a person serving our country returning home.

The anticipation of getting on a plane and going somewhere fun.

Picking up someone you love.

In less than two hours, I am going to the airport. I'm going to pick up someone I love who I have not seen in a year and a half -- just wrong! I am certain I will burst into tears the moment I see her.

My parents do not spontaneously combust every time something touches them emotionally. I have no idea where I got this gene. It does kind of freak people out.

In some undefinable way, the airport allows us to explore all kinds of feelings and emotions. It may be:

Relief: Bye Bye
Sadness: Bye Bye
Fear: Did I leave the coffee pot on?
Love: Welcome home
Jealousy: No one's here to greet me.
Envy: I want that luggage.
Gossip: She's wearing that on a plane?
Stubbornness: I will take my seat and half of yours.

The airport is a sociology experiment brought to life every day.

Leave it to Beaver

Question: What's the first sexual line uttered on commercial television?

Answer: Ward, I think you're being too hard on the beaver.

It's an old joke but it still makes me laugh. It's one of those where you only have to say the punchline. Everyone over 40 gets it.

I've been accused of looking at my childhood through rose-colored glasses. That's probably true. Still, it's more fun to remember the good times. My worst times would be considered insignificant and lame compared to what many children experience.

It wasn't exactly Beaverland. For instance, my mother never vacuumed while wearing a dress and pearls. She was more likely to put on lively music and dance around. My father didn't sit around in a suit and tie while reading the paper. He was more likely to take me to dance rehearsal or roll on the floor with the dog.

They didn't go to business dinners or evening affairs. We ate dinner together. This doesn't mean they didn't have a social life. While we rugrats were running around the neighborhood, they gathered on a porch. (We didn't care what they were doing as long as they left us alone.)

My parents still gather with the neighbors. I don't know if they sit on the porch but I know they have a standing game night. I'm a little jealous.

So, here I go again with rose-colored glasses...

Dating

No, I have no plans to start dating. But, between the data transfer needed and some issues from our latest round of storms, I'm starting to feel like I'm going steady with the computer guy. He's the perfect date: he's pleasant and polite; he's patient with my questions. He doesn't touch me and I don't touch him. He fixes things and generally does what I ask him to do.

Of course, it stops feeling like a date the moment I get out my checkbook.

Most women will list traits like kindness or sense of humor as qualities they want in their ideal mate. Yes, they are important but they're not enough. I think you should aspire to a well-rounded person who can fix or do things, including:

Fix the computer, fax machine, printer and scanner;
Remove the overgrown trees and bushes, plus the rampant poison ivy;
Prepare your taxes;
Manage your finances;
Advise about real estate;
Understand investing and the markets;
Answer your legal questions;
Fix the plumbing and/or electrical problems;
Fix a leak in the roof;
Understand politics and explain its historical context.

I realize it's a pipe dream for all of these talents to come wrapped in a single package. Especially if you expect a sense of humor too.

The husband has many of these talents so I'm not complaining about him. But, his passions are music and golf. I don't tend to have a lot of emergencies or urgent needs in those areas.

At least he's not the jealous type. He doesn't mind that I'm spending more time with the computer guy than with him.

The Circus

We were invited to a friend's home the evening of Thanksgiving to watch our local team play football. The invitation came with a warning: There will be an infant here. Since all of our children are grown, they felt the need to point that out.

This is not a judgement, just an observation. I'm amazed at how many middle-aged people are willing to birth/adopt/go through surrogacy. This friend's brother is in his 50s and has some lingering health issues. The wife is in her 40s and also had some scares. They now have an infant.

I knew I would be thrilled to play with the baby. And, he was oh so cute and endearing. I'm far too old to raise a child but I could've stuck him in my bag and taken him home.

But during this phone conversation about the invitation, my wacky sense of humor got ahead of my brain. I said, "Yes, we'd love to come over. Since you already have two dogs and multiple houseguests, why don't we bring our maniac dog and the oldies? We could tape it all for Barnum and Bailey."

As it turned out, they have it down to a science. The dogs were well behaved. The baby was precious. One houseguest had already gone to bed before we arrived. They even served hor d'oerves. Get out! Didn't she just make a huge meal a few hours ago? Now, she's feeding us. Of course, we all dug in.

On the way home, I was reflecting. I'm jealous. Their home seems to work like a well-oiled machine. My house is the circus.