It can’t be! The perfect search and destroy toasting machine has been canned.

I found myself lost on a bright Saturday afternoon, driving along the bricked streets and ancient cenotaphs of a town that professes itself as the "Cowboy Capital of The World". I was lost, yes, but I knew my destination: The fascination with older small towns across Texas. Although raided constantly by the painted Comanche and the impact of the Civil War, Stephenville lives on boasting many neon lit bowling lanes, a Piggly Wiggly and of course, Tarleton State University.
I was there for my birthday. Twenty-five brought steaks and chicken, older people who, over an ancient fire, relayed their histories to me and how the world was when they were my age. It seemed that things were a whole lot better. Maybe we sold the simplicity of our lives for the fortune of technology? My grandmother still uses an Apple II and her husband is proud of the fact he's never touched a keyboard and a mouse. It was a good recess away from the hustle and bustle of Denton.
Jane was able to accomplish the one thing I was never able to do, which is organize and plot a party for me. My adult life had been fettered away without parties for my birthday, and Jane really made this one for me. Amy came out of left field and now I am going to immerse myself in the first season of The Oblongs, an exquisite buy. Weird, Texas now sits on my couch, the book I've been rubbernecking every time we walked by the Barnes and Noble's sales tables. Everyone brought beer, and I'm doing my best to finish it.

While much of my life has been spent obsessed with the things that I want to do, learn and be, I plan on spending the next quarter of a century doing it.