My good friend, Stephanie, is a graphic designer and created this mostly all inclusive family restroom sign:
The older I get, the more things change and disappear. Some are my fault. Surprisingly most aren't. Here's a list of the things I am missing from my life.
Marathon was this great candy bar. It was braided caramel with chocolate covering it. It was very chewy. The commercials for it were of a cowboy having a chew out with another candy bar cowboy. The longest lasting candy bar was declared the winner. Marathon cowboy always won.
Communication that you can control
When I was a kid, we had two telephones. One upstairs and one in the basement. The basement phone was the one I used to talk to girlfriends. Now our house has no phone, but my kid has access to internet chat, Facetime, in game chat and someday he'll have a headset to talk to strangers. When we had one line, my parents had a good excuse to kick me off the phone because if the house caught fire they would need an open line. Now, I need to make stupid excuses as to why he needs to get off the device. Usually the excuse is, “Because I said so.”
I love stick shift. It gives you something to do while driving and keeps you focused on the road. With automatic, I’ve become a drone. We are a two car family and my wife is not interested in driving stick, so both our cars are automatic. I don't blame her. Just need to get a job where I make enough to buy a third car.
I'm on a diet. Swedish fish are not part of that diet. I miss you Swedish fish.
John and I are best friends. But we both got married and I've got kids and he's got work and somewhere in the middle, we stopped hanging out. We talk every few weeks. Both of us committing that well try to get together. Both of us failing. I did call him, out of the blue, with a situation that didn’t need immediate attention, but he gave it attention. We’ll get our acts back together.
Four hour hangovers
I used to be able to go out until 2am, sleep until 8am and be fine by noon. Now, I go home at midnight, get up at 8am and am miserable for 48 hours. If I go out on a Thursday night to Ladies’ 80s, I am starting to feel like myself again on my Monday drive into work.
At some point in my life, I didn't drink. From 0 - 19, I assume I did other things that kept be busy. Now it seems that I can’t go an evening without a glass of wine. I’d quit, but then I’d miss drinking instead of missing not drinking. I’ll take the latter.
I don't write enough anymore. Obviously I'm trying to change that.
Being ahead of the technological curve
I knew Windows XP front and back. Now I can't figure out how to defrag a drive or figure out the problems my operating system is politely explaining to me. I can’t stand tablets. I need a nice keyboard to be able to write. I assume my phone can make bacon, but I’ll never know. I’m already looking out in the yard to see if there are any kids to yell at.
Screw you. It was crisp and delicious and a nice, portable alternative to beer. The photo below is from my sister. When she heard Zima was going out of production, she bought her local store out. She called me the day she drank the last one and we both cried.