Pierced Ears and False Fall
My son started playing competitive soccer this year. In true preteen fashion, playing the sport comes second to looking the part. I’ve noticed his wardrobe shift a bit, as well as subtle comments about hairstyles, jewelry, etc.
I get it. I was young once. So when he asked me if I thought he would look cool with pierced ears (thanks, Ronaldo, Neymar Jr., Pogba, and too many others), I didn’t give him a hard time. I just said maybe and told him he was free to experiment with his style.
He conspired with my wife, who ended up buying a pack of those small magnetic earrings for him to try. Dot or disc studs, I think they’re called. He wore them around for a day or so and decided they weren’t for him.
For a laugh, I put on a pair. And holy shit, I like them. It’s too midlife crisis for me to run out and do it now, but maybe one day.
I already shamelessly rock full sleeves in an uptight corporate environment, so what’s one more body mod?
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My wife’s birthday is also the first day of fall. You wouldn’t know it here in Texas, but I’m told the season has indeed changed. In reality, this time of year is spent sweating and watching the Gulf for the next disaster.
I’m catching news snippets about a crazy El Niño threatening a wild winter. A cold breeze causes the Texas grid to fail, so we have that to look forward to. Has it been 24 hours since I mentioned that I hate it here? Probably not.
I’m feeling stir-crazy again. My plan to spend a few October days in RMNP was shot down by my perimenopausal wife, who balked at the idea of walking uphill in the cold for fun. These are rough years for women, so I choose my battles wisely.
Travel is stupid expensive right now, so I can’t really justify going any further afield. I guess that means I’m grounded here in the Lone Star State. Maybe we could spend a weekend in the Hill Country when it cools down some. That would be a small consolation.
Houston is just so damn ugly it hurts my soul.