While I fantasize about living amidst a pastoral setting in 19th century England, my husband has 1984 on the brain.
Not sure why 1984, but I have a hunch it has something to do with Bruce Springsteen, G.I. Joe, and the summer Olympics, held in our very own backyard that year. And throughout our nearly-20-years of wedded bliss, I don't think a week has passed without some form of “1984 was the best year EVER!” rising up from the depths of his soul.
Honestly, I think he's overreacting. After all, they didn't have Groupon back then. A website where, with just one click, you could buy a hands-on falconry experience or a killer deal on laser hair removal. (What's a website? What's a "click?" And lasers, like in Tron?)
I also don't remember having the option to "add avocado" when I was 11 years old. And what was flavored coffee creamer, let alone salted caramel anything? And who ever heard of an artisanal donut?
Come to think of it, who got pedicures back then? Who used SPF 50? Who ran 5ks? And who were "hipsters," sturdy babies who sat perfectly-perched on their mother's hip?
And where was a Pei Wei or a Panera Bread or a Pieology when you needed one? It was either McDonald's or Olive Garden. None of this hybrid restaurant business – not a "sit down" establishment, but not fast food either.
And 1984 never advertised food as being locally sourced or grass fed or all-natural. All natural meant you didn't wear makeup that day. (Or shave your legs. Excuse me, laser beam your legs.)
But still, according to my Jeffrey Eugene, life was better back then. Better toys, better music, better movies, better character sheet sets. And in my opinion, better after-school television programming.
(**Let's talk Little House on the Prairie for just a sec. Nothing compares. Now if we could somehow bottle the wisdom from that show and add a teaspoon of it to each day, this world would be a better place.**)
However, Ecclesiastes 7:10 says it's smart to not always pine for the "good old days," for in doing so there’s a tendency to not appreciate the day God has given us right now. Only my problem isn’t so much pining after my own good ol’ days, but other people’s. Thus my pastoral setting in 19th century England fantasy. (I see you Colin Firth.)
So sure, reminiscing is fun. But today is fun, too! And right about now I'm thinking I should just leave El Jefe alone to add to his Star Wars Greedo collection. But here's one thing I know for sure: boys were cuter 20+ years ago. (Says the woman who snatched-up the cutest one.)