Pondering life’s little mysteries
April E. Clark
Glenwood Springs, CO Colorado
This is how I’ll never truly understand life.
A 7.0 earthquake hits Haiti last week, killing upwards of 100,000 people. Devastating. Heartbreaking. Unbearable.
Meanwhile, back in America, TV programs and magazine covers dissect a 23-year-old reality starlet’s freakish obsession with plastic surgery.
Ten cosmetic procedures in one day is officially a bad thing.
Maybe that’s just the irony of life. At the same moment people are begging for food and water in the streets and digging out survivors from the rubble in one city, a legion – an army, even – of women are obsessing about their looks and dressing younger than their age reflects in another. The irony is as sickening as spaghetti salad after a bout with the stomach flu. Or eating 10 Tootsie Rolls in a sitting. Which I’m pretty sure just happened at my house.
Ten Tootsie Rolls in one day is also officially a bad thing.
There are many facets of life I’ll never understand. Like, is there really a reason for everything? If only the good die young, as Billy Joel crooned, does that mean all the old people are bad? And is it scary I’ve tuned in to a couple of late-night infomercials lately?
The Magic Bullet is becoming very hard to resist.
I have figured out that there’s no way to figure out everything. I’m sure Sudoku was invented specifically for number whizzes like me. I’ll never understand why children have to be sick or what is in creme brulee that’s going to land me on an episode of “Intervention.” I have no idea why I watched the “Brady Bunch” marathon on Martin Luther King Jr. Day. I can’t say why I’ve ever digested a pickled egg – especially one from the only bar in Somerset.
And why I might do it again if hungry enough.
Who can explain my penchant for wearing what my friend Soozie calls the JTIB (jeans tucked in boots). Or is it JIB (jeans in boots)?
That has a much better ring to it.
The jeans-in-boots look is versatile. It can be worn with a Colts jersey or a turtleneck sweater. Wear JIB with a cashmere cardigan or an American flag bikini top.
Perfect for parties in Aspen.
I’ll probably never know why I’ve lost multiple hours of my life – and will never get them back – watching “The Bachelor” and “The Bachelorette.” I never believe that all these women are falling hard and want to marry the same dude before ever meeting him. Every episode is much like whatever is in creme brulee.
Reality TV and its ferocious magnetic pull might forever remain one of life’s mysteries.
I’ll never figure out why I can never really get into Rush that much. Or what it is about talking pickles that cracks me up, every time. Talking cats, too. OK, and talking cartoons of phlegm balls wearing clothes.
Giving a ball of phlegm personality takes some serious talent.
I’ll likely never learn what makes me want to ride a carousel when I see one. Or what makes pitching a tent so hard to figure out, every time. And why I cannot cut Coca-Cola from my life. Well, maybe I do know a little about that one.
It has the same stuff that’s in creme brulee.
April E. Clark is supporting the Red Cross and its efforts in Haiti by texting 90999 today. She can be reached at firstname.lastname@example.org.
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