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Dining Out

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diningoutT R A V E L    My birthday is coming up soon. I know my doting husband will take me to a nice restaurant to celebrate, wherever I want to go. Wherever in fact, I let him know I’ve made reservations. By nice, I mean the place will have carpet. If it is very nice, no one will bash a carpet sweeper into our table as a hint that we need to be out within the next 45 minutes.

We don’t go to fancy restaurants often, not that we can’t afford it. It’s just that Mr. Brennan isn’t comfortable in places where nothing is served in a red plastic basket. Despite knowing this, I insist on placing ourselves in Downton Abby without having been properly trained in the fine art of snobbery and stink eye.

It starts with the seating. Even though we have a reservation, we will be stiffly asked “Table for how many?” It reminds me of the book Uncle Victor gave me called Mad Magazine’s Snappy Answers to Stupid Questions. I’d like to say “Table for one. My husband is afraid of mice, so he will sit on my shoulders.” I could get creative and say “Forty six. We like to change seats as soon as the one we are sitting in gets too warm.” Of course, I don’t say either. It doesn’t seem as if we should piss anyone off right away.

Any wine list longer than four inches is out of my league, and they know it. I can’t just say what I want to say, which is “give me the cheapest wine you have”. As soon as I take a stab at pronouncing the name of one, the waitress repeats my selection in a better accent just to show me up. Whatever. I’ll have alcohol sooner than she will tonight.

It used to embarrass me, yet now I look forward to seeing how Mr. Red Plastic Basket will manage to get ketchup to go with that $40 steak. If there are “frites” on the menu, it can be our little secret how he plans to use the accompanying ketchup. If not…well, once they were not on the menu, and he boldly ASKED for French fries. In the snootiest way possible, the waitress replied she thought they had some on the children’s menu. He simply said he would like some, which I thought was daring and romantic.

Did I mention our wedding anniversary is coming up?

Kathy Brennan has organized information for a living as an educator, computer programmer and government policy writer. Now she is doing it for fun as a stand up comic and humorous writer. See more at http://mrskathybrennan.com/.

When I’m 65

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65_rubbersoulA R T S    Until about five years ago, if you asked what the number 65 meant to me, I would’ve replied, “That was a great year! That was the year the Beatles released Rubber Soul! I was 14 and I’d just written my first batch of songs.” These days, however, it means I have to make a trip to the Social Security office to fill out a bunch of forms, and make an appointment to see my doctor to check the dosages of the prescriptions I must take.

But, really, if I’m honest, it means less to me than it used to. I’ve been on a pretty involved, eye-opening journey for the past five years, one that’s led me to realizations that seem to be pretty typical of a lot people my age. Sometimes it’s been complicated by the constant battle of Old Notions vs New Insights, which I think is especially pronounced in this time of age bias and youth worship. I don’t think my grandparents—or even my parents—had to draw so many lines in the sand and stand up against so many devils. Life during their generations was pretty cut and dry. Grow up, marry, have kids, have grand kids, get old. The pressure to stay youthful, firm, fashionable (women), productive (men), f**kable, and fascinating just wasn’t part of their reality. Not like today, anyway. It was perfectly fine at a certain age to start dressing less provocatively, to gain a little weight, to go gray, and to slow down. I remember that if a woman didn’t dress in “age-appropriate” clothing, if she wore youngish makeup and jewelry, colored her hair, or surrendered to cosmetic surgery, she was judged severely for not growing old gracefully. We still battle this to some degree, but not as much as, say 40-plus years ago.

As I move closer to my birthday, I really don’t feel 65. Or what I somehow imaged 65 was supposed to feel like. In fact, as long as I stay away from mirrors it’s easy for me to drift into a perpetual state of thirty-something. Not physically, but internally. Me. That person who looks out through these eyes. Some days I feel even younger and I’m obligated to do things I used to do, like put on the Beatles’ Rubber Soul and dance with myself (which usually plunges me into feeling a lot older the next day).

SK Waller is an author and composer. Books One and Two (With A Dream and With A Bullet) of her rock and roll series, Beyond The Bridge,  takes places in late 70s London. Read more at SK Waller Blog and SKWaller.com.

What Cattle Do At Night (or Until the Cows Come Home)

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cattle_herdF I C T I O N    Another in a continuing series of articles about what exactly animals and marine life are up to, that you always wanted to know.

We’ve all seen it. About an hour before sunset the cows come home. If we’re talking milk cows, they head for the barn because there’s food there and a place to get out of the wind. But what about cattle on open grazing land? Where are they heading? How do they spend their nights?

First of all, we’ve all heard the expression “herd mentality” and when it comes to cattle, there are always some dominant animals that decide where and when the herd moves. They are after all prey animals, so there’s safety in numbers. So after a hard day of grazing, cattle will seek out some lowland out of the wind and elements and find bedground for the night. You would be surprised at how much body heat an 1,800 pound cow can generate and they do have a whole lot of insulation, so I would not get too hung on whether or not they are cold. Ask a rancher in North Dakota how low the temperature has to get before a cow freezes.

There’s usually a lot of gossip about who saw what (Did you see that rusty old pick-up truck go by?), how much forage everyone had, and some of the goofy things the calves were up to that day. There is a lot of talk about the quality of the forage, so much like humans, cattle will drone on and on about where the best forage was, or complaining about the scarcity, or how long it took to chew cud.

Cattle are very social, so it’s not unusual for some of the better storytellers to break out a story that’s been handed down for generations for the listening pleasure of the rest of the herd. On some rare occasions, the herd will come across some Jimson weed and on those nights the cattle have a riproaring time getting high as kites (perhaps not the best comparison when you’re talking about an 1,800 pound animal) and having some really wicked hallucinations. If you’re wondering what kind of hallucination a cow might have, one of the most common ones is that a cow will think that the ear tag is some kind of radio controller that’s following every move the cow makes. Creepy yes, but not out of the realm of possibility.

So the next time you see cattle making their move around sunset, you’ll have a pretty good idea that the party is about to get started.

Jay Harrison is a graphic designer and writer whose work can be seen at DesignConcept. He’s written a mystery novel, which therefore makes him a pre-published author.

Recall Program

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recall-hi-resE S S A Y    Are you having difficulty being able to recall a name or a word when you’re having a conversation with someone or just ruminating on your own? Experts say not to worry. It’s most likely not dementia. There are many other causes….everything from insomnia to anxiety or stress can cause these lapses in memory. None of which make me any less relaxed about the situation.

It’s frustrating when you can’t find the right word to convey your thoughts. And why can’t I think of the name of that band that had a big hit with that song. What’s the name of that author that I like….I’ve read all his books. It’s actually embarrassing to be conversing with someone and be unable to recall a name or a title. You end up repeating over and over that you know the word/name but it’s just out of reach. Sometimes you even go so far as to say something like, “it starts with an “m.”

The fact that I’m able to recall the word or name and hour later (when I don’t need it) is little consolation. I want total recall. Wait. Wasn’t that a movie with what’s his name. You know, he became the Governator. Arnold I-Can’t-Spell-Your-Last-Name. At least I knew there was a movie by that name.

I like to think that the real problem is an overtaxed brain. I’ve collected too much information, taken too many classes, read too many books, watched too many movies, met too many people, stored up too many facts, and spent way too much time surfing the internet. And the result is my brain is overtaxed because it’s overloaded with information. Our brains are impressive organs but they are not anything like IBM’s Watson when it comes to retention and recall. The brain certainly works like a computer but lacking a 12 terabyte hard drive puts us at a clear disadvantage.

You might be saying “get over it” to which I say, “no, you get over it.” The brain wants what the brain wants. Is it too much to ask for total recall for the information stored in there? When I want it?

It’s bad enough that I have to ask Siri for information. Please don’t make me start saying “OK Google.”

Jay Harrison is a graphic designer and writer whose work can be seen at DesignConcept. He’s written a mystery novel, which therefore makes him a pre-published author.

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