Diana Gets Her First Wrinkle

I’m an autumn guy, not a fall guy. We’ll leave that job to the Six Million Dollar Man, himself, Lee Majors. He’s bionic and rebuilt (better than he was before) to take a tumble when necessary. For him, NASA had the technology. Me? I follow speed limits, look both ways before I cross the street, and stay indoors when possible to avoid totally improbable — but totally possible — calamities like avalanches, killer whales, meteors, the bubonic plague, sasquatch, tornadoes, Cher, census takers, ICBMs, grey alien probe teams, Glenn Danzig, shirtless lucha libre wrestlers, tsunamis, polar bears, lightning, cannonballs, steep drops, war elephants, mimes, curses, black widow spiders, and Spin Doctors fans.

I break easily. It’s probably from not being corn-fed (blech!) when I lived in the Midwest, though I try to supplement this shortcoming with generous helpings of salted meat products. If it fueled pioneers to cross the North American continent through snow, rain, heat, and gloom of night in covered wagons made from stapled-together pieces of scrap wood that they found in the dumpster behind the Home Depot, then it can surely keep my skin and skeleton glued together. I may actually be thinking of the United States Postal Service now that I look back on that sentence I just wrote, but the sentiment’s the same. Mail carriers have to deal with bad penmanship and ill-tempered hounds that want to eat them on a daily basis, so I imagine they’ve got their own stockpiles of salted meat products to keep them fortified against the elements.

When Diana worries about getting wrinkles (even though laugh lines don’t count), I hand her some beef jerky and let her know that everything’s going to be all right. It seems to soothe her; I know it soothes me. When you’re trying to maintain a positive mental attitude, what works to make you feel better?

Diana Gets Her First Wrinkle

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