Yeah, so, as you can see, I'm back to the regular blogger (tm) template.  If you don't know what that means, then chances are that you are even more old school than me.  I tried to create my own snazzy show, but the part of my genetic code that governs adaptation to technology apparently decreases with my increase in gray hair.  I still have the Ireland picture way up there in the banner, but, much like my ass, it's too big for the space it is given, and I can't figure out how to fix it.

I've definitely crossed that threshold - the one where technology exceeds my capacity to tolerate it. It is virtually impossible to figure out how to work the mother-flipping remote controls, so I either watch a picture with no sound, or listen to the broadcast with no picture.  I have no idea what shiznit the kids are listening to these days, because once I could plug my iPod into my car, it was W-CBB radio, 24/7.  And when I see teenagers, my only two thoughts are "what the hell is wrong with you?" and "we were older when we were their age."  My assistant, god bless her ever loving soul, is constantly fixing the same god-forsaken problems with my computer, and just a few days ago, the paralegal in our group asked, "so, it's the big 4-0?"

Yeah, I'm 35.