Raving ruminations of an old man with no sense, or is it scents?

FROM MY FRONT PORCH

Sam Houston is the publisher of the Hood County News. He is also an actor, author, playwright, performer and entertainment producer/promoter.

From birth to the last breath, there are certain choices which try men’s souls. Sometimes there is no answer, or at least no choice — which is the obviously the best.

His life is full of experimentation and trial in error to find an answer to these monumental challenges. Should eggs be fried or scrambled? Mustard or mayo on a hamburger? I would think sweet or unsweet tea comes down to more of a personal preference than to what is right or wrong, though granted, when it comes to steak, there are only two choices: medium and medium rare.

Anyone who chooses rare is simply a close descendent of the caveman who has not yet evolved into a higher being, and those who have the audacity to order a Texas ribeye well done clearly are more interested in eating the remnants of a Justin boot than they are a flavorful charcoal grilled slice of heaven derived from a prime grade black angus steer.

So, which is it for you, shower, or bath? As a little one the obvious choice was bath. The vessel itself provided the opportunity to not only bathe, but to experience soap bubbles, water toys — including your favorite rubber toy, Donald Duck — all while lying down covered in water from head to toe. It was soothing, relaxing, fun to play in and eventually culminated in being wrapped in a blanket by a loving Mother and dressed in warm jammies before being rocked to sleep.

As a teenager involved in sports, showers were the obvious choice. Frankly, after practice or a game, they were the only option available. Showers were quick, satisfied the necessary hygienic requirements and during the process teammates who were also showering, would join in conversation about the recently concluded game, a particularly cute cheerleader, or the upcoming biology test.

Seems like the shower preference kept a pretty strong stranglehold on me until my late 40s, when the use of the hot tub or a jacuzzi forged ahead and took the role as my go-to method. Simply getting into the heated water and feeling the jets direct bubbles of air on my neck and back would melt away the cares of the day — and lead to peace, tranquility, and a better night’s sleep. Not sure who invented the hot tub, but undoubtedly the man was a genius.

Now, late in life, it seems like the shower is the better and wiser choice. Tubs are hard to get in and out of. Less risk to fall and break a hip in a shower. A tub takes a long time to fill and with a shower there is less trouble to get the temperature of the water just right.

On top of all that, with me being 6”3” and too many pounds, few tubs allow me to really get in and stretch out. How comfortable is it to get in and have 80% of your body above the waterline, cold and shivering? No, a good old shower has become the option of choice and it will probably stay that way till the bitter end.

So now the next challenge, and I really struggle with this one: frozen margarita or margarita on the rocks? I keep jumping back and forth and cannot make up my mind. Guess I am going to have to keep trying!

Thought for the day: Never laugh at your wife’s choices … you are one of them!

Until next time!