The reasons we do the things we do

Today I want to talk about the reasons why we do the things we do, but first I need to share a conversation I recently had with my mother.

OK. I get up every morning at 5:30 to walk, which means I'm pretty much exercising in THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT most of the year. Although I've done this for decades, my mother has only recently begun to worry about my safety.

Why?

Because she took her poodle for a walk before 6 a.m. the other day and noticed that it's still dark then.

Now, she fears my neighbor Kathy and I will be hit by milk trucks.

And where's the fun in that?

"You should wear one of those blinking light things," she told me. And then she added, "On your head."

I knew she meant to say "on your hat" because I myself talk this way all the time. I get close to the thing I mean (head, hat — what's the diff?) and figure that's good enough.

But still.

The damage was done. I suddenly had a disturbing image of myself walking through the Avenues with a blinking light on my head, thereby causing people to point and say I'm a dork.

I'm sensitive about dork comments because I AM a dork, as the following story clearly illustrates.

Once, when our youngest kid was in preschool, he and I took a ride together in his dad's convertible.

Before long, he wanted me to pop the top, which we did, but I left the windows rolled up because — hello! — I was cold!

After a couple of minutes of driving around the neighborhood with our windows up and our top down, my son said, "Mom, we look like dorks."

Which we did.

SO YOU SEE? I CAN'T EVEN TRICK BABIES INTO THINKING I'M COOL.

Anyway.

It's understandable that someone like me would have serious reservations about walking around town with a blinking light thing on my head.

So I told my mother no. I wouldn't wear one. Period. End of story.