I stepped outside in my bare feet tonight. It was the first time I'd done something like that since last October, and at that time, it smelled like winter was coming. Cliff was out there looking for his ball ("Go get your ball Cliff!") so I thought… I'm just gonna go for it. The sliding glass door was heavy - cold and worn out from the past 6 months of nights below -20. I squished my toes into the mat on the stoop outside the door. It was still open a bit and I caught the leftover smell of the roasted red peppers that we had for dinner, wafting outside into that beautiful night. So let me tell you, it's crisp and there are stars in the sky, but it's not spring yet. And it's still way to cold to not wear shoes.
So I went back inside and we watched True Detective. And since Mike won't let me watch The Office in bed anymore (to combat the scary show) I found myself starring at the empty Wordpress screen, the title box blinking it's usual "Enter Title Here." On that note, I love how there are shows now that take place in the mid 1990's and I'm like "Wasn't that yesterday" but in the show Woody's being interrogated and he's like "Man, I haven't seen Rust in 10 years. And we went through all of that 17 years ago now."
Seventeen years is how long it takes you to be born, learn to talk, walk, run, feed yourself, learn to read, hit adolescence, try to earn an income baby -sitting, hang out at the skating rink on weekends, decorate the gym for a school formal and then graduate from high school.
17 years is a long time.
Conclusion; I'm old. Which is why it's Friday night and you've found me here, writing this.
Also, have you ever had Tirokafteri? It's a greek feta cheese dip and we made some tonight. I've come to terms with growing old because adventures in the kitchen are pretty fun too.
Ok, I think I've sufficiently got Matthew Mcconaughey's creepy/intense gaze out of my head, but that doesn't mean I won't leave you with this: