I was down on the floor at wet-nose-and-paw level, goofing around and taking a few just-for-fun snaps of my son’s dog, when I experienced the moment you see above. The picture cracks me up because I can’t tell whether the dog is yawning because he’s bored with having a camera in his face for about the ten millionth time, or whether he’s laughing at me with the biggest doggy horse-laugh ever. And what does it say about me that I even wonder what the dog is thinking?
Not long ago I was in a coffee shop in Seattle and overheard a conversation two young women were having about their boyfriends. One woman was telling the other that she was dating a new guy who was just great, very “evolved” the woman said. That word stuck in my eavesdropping head. What would I have to be like for a woman to think I was “evolved”? Would I no longer be able to watch The Simpsons? Would being “evolved” mean that I wouldn’t have an answer to the question: Who are the starting quarterbacks in this weekend’s Super Bowl? (Answer: Peyton Manning and Drew Brees.)
And what does it say about me that I even think about such things?
