Careful What You Wish For

After more than a half century on this planet, it's my observation that wishes have an often ironic way of coming true.

Throughout my childhood I complained about cowlicks-- those crazy tufts that refuse to cooperate with the rest of your hair. I had three: one at my crown, and one at the hairline on each side of my forehead. For years and years and years I wished they would just go away. That wish came true when my hairline receded past the two cowlicks on my forehead. The one on my crown has since been replaced by a bald spot.

I always wanted highlights in my hair, too. In high school I used SunIn on my hair hoping for that sandy blond look. Given that my hair is almost black, it ended up turning the color of a brand new penny. It was awful. I probably would have repressed this memory were it not for the school photograph from that year, taken just days after applying the SunIn.

A bit more than two years ago I started wishing that we had a more active social life. Poof! This year we're declining some invitations because we just don't have time to fit them all in. It's a nice problem to have, I'll admit.

For much of the last year I've wished for rain. We had four inches last weekend, and have added another two inches since. It's supposed to rain for much of next week, too. We need it, so you won't hear me complaining...much. After all, if I didn't complain, I wouldn't be...

The Crotchety Old Man