Limited Brain Cells

As a child of the Sixties and having been born during the Age of Camelot, the time of my upbringing was an era when social mores and practices from the Greatest Generation were giving way to the Hippies. My single mother, whose divorced status was still a cultural stigma at the time, believed that drugs were everywhere and easily accessible to everyone, including a certain underweight, asthmatic second grader. One of the ploys she used to "guide" me was to tell me that we're born with a finite number of brain cells and the use of drugs/alcohol destroys those brain cells. Whether she was right or wrong at the time, I was seven freaking years old. What did I know?

As I got older, those clichés and others from my mother fell into doubt, as those things tend to do when you become a teenager. Then I started spawning little Moores of my own and found the truth: kids can kill your brain cells faster than pure Everclear. I know I was a helluva lot smarter when I was younger, but today...not so much. Specifically today, in fact, because I know I had more brain cells when I woke up than I will have when I go to sleep tonight.

The day started good. I read the San Francisco Chronicle when I can because I like investigative reporting and so there's something to counter the right-leaning media messages that we're bombarded with on a daily basis (were you really surprised there were no WMDs?). Reporter C.W. Nevius made a minor mistake in this morning's column about there being no judge school, which, of course, there is. We had a quick little email chat and he was a nice guy about it.

Was at work for a while when The Bride called to tell me one of our angels got a job, which always good news. And it’s the local sex shop, specializing in lingerie, instruction manuals, adult DVDs, and all sorts of little toys. As God as my witness, I felt a string of atoms implode behind my left ear. And my right. It's not something you expect to hear, especially thinking back to the days when I stood over her crib just to watch her breathe. She's of age and she has a job, and Lord knows it'll be educational. And did I mention it’s a paying job?

I emailed a relation about the daughter's new job and her reply included the words, "sex toys." It brought back the feeling I had when my grandmother used the "f" word. A thousand more brain cells. Poof. Gone forever.

And everybody in the office had a really good laugh about the whole thing. Who could blame them?

(The daughter, who spent two months in the Navy, just told her mother that she had to "use the head" (sailor slang for the bathroom). Methinks someone should tell her not to use that phrase at her new job.)

Then at the end of the workday, I got a call from a mother whose children were removed from her home by Child Protective Services for whatever reason. I tried to explain she'd called an information technology help desk, not unlike calling Gateway or Dell, but she was pretty upset, in full vent mode, and not listening to anyone but herself. Twenty minutes later, I promised to forward her complaints to the appropriate folks, which I did. Because of the nature of the CPS business, there was absolutely nothing else I could do for her.

(BTW, if you want to read about the things that people do to kids, even in the Greatest Country in the History of History, here's something from the Best of Craig's List. Admittedly, it lists some extreme examples of abuse but, sadly, people really do this stupid shit to defenseless children. Not for reading at work, and not for the faint of heart or weak of stomach.)

After work, my guts were full of this phone call and the helpless feeling that came with it, so I went to the gym, got on a recumbent bike and punished it. Hard. It was the longest and hardest that I've ridden one of those things and I was merciless. And my nasty mood was not helped by the person in the bike next to me, yapping on her cell phone, totally oblivious to the angry glances from others at the gym who were actually there to work out. She finally got the hint and hung up. A few minutes later, I got off the bike and was too wasted to feel nasty anymore.

So here I am, dumber and wiser at the same time, reminded of the phrase: "The more I learn, the less I know." It's appropriate for today in some strange way. If someone can figure out how, please drop me a line.

Hey, I have a fan! Cool! Check out Pearl Fang when you get a sec!

Getting back to the brain cell thing for a sec, Aunt Lily might be interested to hear that running increases the number of brain cells. She is pretty smart, but I attributed that to heredity. Whoda thunk?


Distance: 8.25 miles
Time: 30:00 minutes
623 calories burned