growing up
I think there are signs that mark off a person's childhood and adulthood. I hope I can keep that line blurred to a degree, but some are inevitable. I doubt that I will pass through every point towards being a grown up, most notably denying the urge to lick the batter from the bowl. Neither will I ever blush at robust rounds of "Little Bar of Soap." But, there are others I feel I've passed through.
Take, for instance, ice cream. When you can eat ice cream without getting a ring of it around your mouth, that's a sign of maturity. On a personal level, one of my first steps towards growing up was realizing that "cleaning up" my ice cream cone was just my dad's excuse to eat my ice cream. Same with his "sips" of my drinks.
Driving myself to the airport was an equally important step.
So was house searching for a place to rent.
I learned another sign tonight: NJ101.5. I listened to "our own radio station" voluntarily on my way home. I wanted to hear what Jim Gearhart had to say. I had to battle my gut instinct to whine when the traffic report, weather, and news music came on, but I actually wanted to listen to the show. And what I managed to catch before it cut out near the PA border (not Philadelphia, remember), I enjoyed. No child could ever harbor such thoughts. They take away my Freebeer and Hotwings, and so suddenly I graduate to Tommy G and his culturally relevant late night call in show topics.
Take, for instance, ice cream. When you can eat ice cream without getting a ring of it around your mouth, that's a sign of maturity. On a personal level, one of my first steps towards growing up was realizing that "cleaning up" my ice cream cone was just my dad's excuse to eat my ice cream. Same with his "sips" of my drinks.
Driving myself to the airport was an equally important step.
So was house searching for a place to rent.
I learned another sign tonight: NJ101.5. I listened to "our own radio station" voluntarily on my way home. I wanted to hear what Jim Gearhart had to say. I had to battle my gut instinct to whine when the traffic report, weather, and news music came on, but I actually wanted to listen to the show. And what I managed to catch before it cut out near the PA border (not Philadelphia, remember), I enjoyed. No child could ever harbor such thoughts. They take away my Freebeer and Hotwings, and so suddenly I graduate to Tommy G and his culturally relevant late night call in show topics.