That doesn’t mean that I’m kid “unfriendly” in a – “take them to a remote location and leave them for dead” kind of way – I would just prefer to view them from behind glass or some other safe enclosure. My mom used to tell me that she didn’t particularly like children. You would think that would suck a little since in fact, she had two – but in actuality it wasn’t that bad. My sister and I ended up with a mom who didn’t have to live vicariously through us – hanging on our every word, and telling her friends how smart we are because at 9 years old we managed to figure out the whole tooth fairy farce on our own. No – my mom is a realist, she believes in telling it like it is. I admire her for that.

When I was a kid the word “everyone” was a forbidden term. I used it frequently to expose her backward, hillbilly way of thinking. When I wanted a phone in my room – “everyone” had one but me. When I wanted to stay up past ten o’clock on a school night – “everyone” else was getting to. Everyone had a pool, everyone had bunk beds, and everyone had a mom who let them spend the night in a cemetery because it’s fun. I never got the penguin I wanted either.

My mother would just stand there calmly letting me ramble on with my evidence of “everyone,” before rolling her eyes and sighing… “Who exactly is everyone Melissa? How is it that you have come to know everyone hmm?? Then she would pull a National Geographic from the bookshelf and flip it open to the middle before shoving it under my nose. “How about these people here?? I suppose you believe that each one of them has a 1500 gallon salt water aquarium with sea otters as well? They don’t even have pants Melissa.”

In my Mother’s defense most of my wants were outlandish and unrealistic. Today, kids are a little more savvy and sophisticated; their wants and wishes a little less Disney and far more practical – I want a 55 inch TV in my room because when I car jack someone I need to really BELIEVE it – or – I need an iPhone because the lemonade stand business ain’t running itself and I need to check my google stats. It seems like nowadays kids go from preschool to high school and upon graduation expect to live in a large flat somewhere close to the metro where they can start their mornings at Starbucks alarming themselves with Dow Jones averages before they rush off to a meeting with Steve Jobs. Who the hell is gonna deliver my pizza in five years, that’s what I need to know.

Most of my friends live with their 20 something year old children who.. “have been looking for a job but they can’t get NASA to email them back.” I know life is short and you shouldn’t just settle for whatever, but it’s not “life-cycle of a butterfly” short and by all means feel free to take some crap jobs for a while – just until you can save up for the Hummer you will be living in.

No. As much as I love kids and the silly little things they say like, “Aunt Mary said you could carry a cooler on that ass,” I think I will just leave child rearing to the experts and to people who don’t mind fighting over the remote control with their 30 something, still living at home, waiting for his youtube video to go viral , son.

I prefer to spend the rest of my years finding some other way to make a difference in the world – and if I can sleep in on the weekends and have all the Corona for myself, then even better.

It isn’t just the elderly that suffer from memory loss – friends, loved ones, and myself included are a brain cell away from a rousing discussion about the sinking of the Titanic as if it happened yesterday.

Just a few days ago, my partner Ang, looked me straight in the eye and gave me the most convincing and passionate speech of her lifetime – except I had just told her the same thing only a few days prior. She re-tells my own jokes to me saying, ” So and so at work told me the funniest thing yesterday!” Aaaah, yeah… that was me.

Not that I need “props” or anything, but it is a little disturbing to see her doey-eyed face telling me my own jokes as if they were carved from some untouched region of her brain. I imagine her later years, in a nursing home, filled with enormous adventure and wonder as she discovers a half-empty box of paper clips and claims them as her own creation. Later….she will barge through the doors of the dining hall, her muppet arms flailing wildly as she maniacally spouts the details of her discovery. The other residents, taken by surprise, will drop their jello cups in unison and stare, mouths open, in confused wonder.

On that day, paper clips will become a hot commodity among the barely living.

Is it just the Dallas/Fort Worth Metroplex or does the drama run high across the country when the wind picks up?

I was watching the 5 o’clock news a few months back – the woman reporting was placing huge emphasis on the manifesting snow flurries that were now visible on the railing she was leaning against. “If you look closely….and I mean closely…you can see that the snow is coming down in big “chunks.” Wow. Chunks. Rarely does Texas get snow, but snow chunks?? The camera pans left then zooms right in on one isolated flake sitting on the guard rail. In the realm of snow flakes, I suppose it was sizable, but it was hardly worth the apocalyptic attention channel 5 was offering.

In Texas, if you take away “HOT AS HELL” – there isn’t a whole lot of interesting weather to report. I’ve watched news reporters with squinted eyes, shouting into their microphone, “The winds are really picking up out here! People have been calling in from all over the metroplex – many folks have had newspapers blown away and hundreds of others have lost quite a bit of landscaping mulch to these windy conditions!” Meanwhile, the camera operator tries to focus in on some leaves that have floated gingerly to the ground but realizing that doesn’t truly demonstrate the ominous power of wind; turns his attention to a styrofoam cup skipping violently across a parking lot. Better seek shelter. I’m just saying.

Of course, as I write this, the forecast for tomorrow is snow. Not just snow, but snow that will “accumulate.” At first we will admire the snow for its beauty – but eventually the snow will melt and become ice. “Good evening, I’m Becky Bradly – right now traffic appears to be moving smoothly, but as the temperatures drop… this seemingly benign puddle of water COULD become an icy cancerous tumor on the roadways that could send unaware drivers careening out of control and straight into an early grave. Back to you Kevin.”

If you spend any time flipping channels like I do, you begin to see the trend I’m talking about. I believe it started with, “Little People, Big World” – and yes, at first I found the show to be no less than adorable. Watching gnome-like people raise a family, go to work, live, love, laugh and try to reach things that are pushed too far back on the counter tops – frankly – it was heartwarming.

What was once intriguing, has now become an obsession. Now there’s “The Little Couple” and “The Little Chocolatiers,” what other professions and life circumstances do we need to see? We get it already….they’re little, and they can do all the things big people can do except touch their nose with out leaning in a little – but that’s okay! We are NOT here to judge.

I have to admit – my interest in the life and times of the little people has waned some. I have recently discovered, “Hoarders” – I can’t tear myself away from the TV when that show is on. I actually have to pause several times just so I can look over at my partner in shock and horror. It’s unbelievable to me that someone thinks it’s completely acceptable to soil themselves in an adult diaper rather than have a plumber come out to fix the toilet……..think about that for a minute. There is so much trash and crap in your house that even if you found a plumber, willing to risk getting a rare skin eating virus to come out to your house – once there – would he be able to find the bathroom?? It’s uncanny.

I had the realization the other day that I am at grave risk of becoming completely disensitized to the plight of the human condition. Very little shocks me anymore. I have seen people with root vegetables growing out of their sofa, I’ve seen the skeletal remains of animals found underneath a pile of People Magazines and socks. I even saw a woman who had a hole chewed in her wall by billy goats and didn’t even know it until one of them was found in her living room, eating his way through her collection of dryer sheets and lint.

I imagine that before long – when we’ve seen enough of – “The Little Litigants, The Little Barista, or The Little Decorator” – our fascination with dwarves might diminish. The fail safe to keep this from happening? Hoarders who collect little people. Let your imagine run free!

It is most definitely that special time of year…and I’m not talking about the Christmas season – It’s the “Season of the Grackles.” Apparently, this obnoxious cousin to the crow prefers the southern states, and so, every year between October and November they make their locust-like migration.

I can be driving along a major thoroughfare when suddenly, while sitting at an intersection, I notice the sky has darkened and I think to myself, “maybe it’s going to rain?” I would be wrong.

What I realize instead, as I look up towards the sky, is that a Hitchcock-worthy invasion has begun.

The grackles solidly cover every roof top, light pole and telephone wire for at least four square miles. It’s an unsettling scene to say the least and since the intentions of these birds is still unclear; I am reluctant to leave the safety of my vehicle in order to get a more panoramic view. In fact, most Texans have learned the value of keeping an inflatable Tippy Hedren in the car just in case we need a diversion getting to the mailbox.

Did you know that In the state of Texas, it is considered a crime to kill migratory birds? Seems like some sort of bastardization of the Amnesty Law – because the way I see it, these birds are breaking some laws of their own. Loitering, destruction of property, illegal crossing of borders – why the preferential treatment? It’s not like they, and their kin showed up with passports in hand at the Ellis Island check point or something…. and why? Because they’re birds!

No worries though. In Texas, we have a way around these small details. Most of the grackles, due to a diet of french fries from a McDonald’s parking lot and the occasional cigarette butt, end up dying of natural causes. The rest… have very “unfortunate accidents.”