The Dodge County Fair (and many others, I'm told) have a competition every year, where
contenders pick out the best heifer calf they can find, register their choice, and raise it.
Once the animal has reached maturity, they show it at the fair and get judged on how well they estimated it's future potential.
Of course, in Dodge County they have the extra fun of having all the kids showing the animals dress up in formal wear, so aside from the grooming and relative conformation of the heifer, you can decide whether you like that blue sparkly dress better, or the the pink pouffy one.
Anyway, so it's my birthday. I have reached an age that I clearly recall being "old" when my parents claimed it. My left knee does something which my doc calls
crepitus and I call percussion; but a friend cheerfully points out that at least I haven't progressed to syncopation.
When I was a kid in the 70's, I wanted to be a marine biologist, just like Belinda Montgomery in Man from Atlantis. In th e 80's I was going to be a career military member, just because they were so durned honest and direct and honorable and all. In the 90's I finally finished my business degree and was going to take over the business world, show everyone how brilliant I really was, and earn myself a fat salary and a corner office somewhere.
These days, I have a decent office with a window. I don't have a secretary anymore, and some days I even perform a couple of administrative functions for the greater good of the company. I'm not rich, and seem to have a gift for never having quite as much money available as I'd planned a use for. I vary from "chubby" to "really needing to do something about this." I don't know if I've lived up to my potential, per
se. Anyone (including myself) who predicted great things for me might not be impressed with the reality.
But maybe I don't need to be the show-stopper. Life is good, and maybe it's okay to just be part of the herd.
