Yeah . . . Right

I sit here, nursing a sprained ankle in ice water and Epsom salts.  My gall bladder has been acting up for month, and the doctor says it will probably need to be removed.  The optometrist told me I'd only need my glasses for driving at night.  He lied.  I need them for watching television, reading, being on the computer, and seeing who I'm talking to, not to mention telling if I'm petting the cat or the dog.

You know why they call these the golden years?  Have you seen the price of gold?  It, like the price of gas, keeps going up.  That, my friends, is why middle age is the golden years. 

My doctors and pharmacist are on my Christmas card list.  Hey, I know who to take care of. 

The people at work . . . who are young enough to be my children . . . talk about their interests, then ask what I'm interested in.  Unfortunately, the actors, musicians, etc., all died before these kids were born.  The kids all nod, going, "Uh huh," to be polite, and wonder who this weird person is.  At least my cat understands me.  Oh well, I don't know who they're talking about, either.

But I'll survive.  Heck, there are worse things than middle age.  I'll know what they are one of these days.

                                                                                                   

Out With the Old, In With the Old

It's been pointed out to me there are a good amount of blogs out there with the titles of This 'n That.  This being the case, I decided it was time for a switch.  The only problem was what?  The answer was quite simple.

Welcome to Mizpah.

If you ask why that particular title, there are several reasons.  First off, I like the sound of the word.  Second, look up Genesis 31:49.

"And Mizpah; for he said, The Lord watch between me and thee, when we are absent one from another."

That is really the purpose of the Internet, keeping in touch with one another.  And I do hope that God watches over each and every one of us.

The third reason for choosing this title is when I was in college - - - back when i was thirty pounds lighter and had hair - - - I put together a newsletter for my church's college group.  It was called Mizpah.  Naturally, I couldn't get anyone from the group to write for it.  I mean, anyone.  I think in the year and a half of the Mizpah's existence, I got a total of three people from the church to write for it.  I mean, I even asked our then pastor for an article, telling him I didn't need it for three months.  His answer was he didn't have the time.

But I had writers.  Oh, I had writers.  My buddies at the dorm a a young lady at the ladies dorm stepped up to the plate.  (Tami's articles were always the best, putting all of us to shame.)  Ketchum's Krackers, Paul's Perspective, Talk From the Typewriter . . . . it was all in fun.  One issue would be serious, another would be farcical.

One issue I let my writers know their articles were due the next day.  As a result, a revolution was staged in print, and I was overthrown by my roommate, Paul Hammond.  Of course, justice prevailed.  It had to, as I was typing up the issue.

My typing was another matter.  I won't say it was bad, but around the dorm, our paper was dubbed the Mizprint.

We even had a song that went along to the tune of the "Rawhide" ballad.  One night, Paul, Darrin Russell and I worked on it and we chased Darrin out at midnight after coming up with fifteen verses.  After Paul and I went to bed, one of us would come up with another verse, and it went on . . . and on . . . and on until 3:30 a.m.  Sadly, we only remembered the first stanza, and it's pretty bad.  Today, it would be a hit.  (Let me know if you want to hear it.)

So humor a middle-aged man as I change the name.  I'm merely having some fun and remembering some durned good times.

Mizpah.