It's my birthday.  Again.   And now that I stand on the
cusp of 40, I think I've finally outlived the juvenile drama that goes
with birthdays–the buildup and hype, the anticipation, and the
inevitable post-birthday letdown with the return to normalcy. 

After all, most of the smaller things that I desire (music, 
books,  and the like) are well within my own reach, and those
things that aren't impulse purchases that I find somewhat desirable are
just shinier, more expensive versions of the things I already
have.  Once I realize that, my desire for things rapidly turns to
indifference.

Sure, another guitar
is always nice.  But, as I tell my wife frequently as we stroll
through Ikea, “Where would we put it?”   (This generally
results in our escape from Ikea for under $200).

Maybe a newer, faster Mac G5 dual processor so I can videoconference
and render DVDs of my latest documentary epic at the same time. 
But where would I put it? Would that really make me happy?  (Well,
it would make Steve happy, probably)

Not any more happy than I am on average,
probably, based on what Jon Gertner reported in last Sunday's NY Times
Magazine.  It seems that people just don't get happier in the long
term from the acquisition of things, or the accumulation of more
money…they just get used to it.  (As the father of two boys
caught in the endless Nintendo upgrade loop, I could have saved Harvard
a lot of research investment on that point).

The Buddhists are right–things own you, especially Things on a macro
level, like houses, cars, and stock portfolios.  They require care
and feeding that distracts you from the rest of living.  And the
higher-end they are, the more care and feeding they require.

So, if you want to give me something for my birthday, give me an
extended deadline, or a day off in the park on my bike.  
Sure, maybe a new mountain bike might be nice (considering the terrain in the park) but my current ride
is more than most guys my age have indulged in.  Give me a
hand-drawn card, a Manhattan, a Che Guevara t-shirt from a Cuban thrift
store.  Give me a few minutes of intelligent conversation.

Save that other stuff for when I turn 40.  (Or, if you're in a rush, for Christmas.)

You
wouldn't believe the size of the spiders we saw on the Eastern Shore
and the Outer Banks this August.   It left me wondering if
there was a direct relationship between the record mosquito population this summer and the size and health of the coastal arachnid population.

I thought about this again the other day as I watched Eight-Legged Freaks
on HBO (David Arquette's best outing yet–though that might not be
saying much). The movie was a great way to waste 99 minutes of your life;  I particularly enjoyed the  trapdoor spiders in the movie, and the “Gremlins”-like sound effects used to represent the scampering spiders as they overran town.

The movie reminded me of the giant orb spider (about 8
inches from leg tip to leg tip-sse the second photo at right) I saw in the brush when we stopped  on
the eastern shore of Virginia l–it looked like it could eat small birds that flew into
its web.

And
I wondered: is this what global warming has in store for us? Wetter
springs, more mosquitos carrying West Nile Virus (or malaria, or
whatever), and bigger and bigger arachnids that will one day start
snatching family pets and dragging them into their sticky lairs? 
Will I have to face down a thirty-foot mutant tarantula in my lifetime?

Probably not.  But it's fun to think about, in some perverse, geeky,  sci-fi schlock way.