In defense of Peter Pan

I ran into an old acquaintance at a big fundraiser event a bit ago. He's a wise guru-type that I know from my days at a nonprofit leadership organization here in the Vail Valley. It's a boisterous room full of this community's movers and shakers with fat wallets and "mountain chic" attire (whatever that is). "Hey, Matt, what are you up to?" he says. I get a few words out about work. "No, Matt, not your job; how are you serving your purpose?" So much for small talk. I dodged that conversational quagmire by promising some coffee talk later on. But of course that got me thinking about being a grownup.

Behind white eyes

Actor's portrayal of the author

People often ask what it's like going back home. It's 21 degrees be-freakin-low zero is what it's like! Sweet Jesus, we really picked a great time to be pedestrians again. Bikers, even. I rode to the coffee shop at 7 this morning with nothing but my eyes exposed. I should have had goggles on. I had goosebumps on my eyeballs. I had to go to the mirror in the bathroom 'cause I swore I was bleeding from my eyes. Turns out it was just most of the water I drank last night, warmed in the furnace of my belly, shot out of my glands like windshield washer fluid to keep my eyeballs from cracking. But it's gotta go somewhere, so there I was in the cafe with ice on my lashes, looking like a sea anemone. I had to ask to stick my head over the grill so I could close my eyes. And when I finally settled into my spot at the cafe, I looked at the weather again and realized...I had forgotten to switch my readout from Celcius to fahrenheit. Heh.