I've got a gray stuffed teddy bear sitting on a shelf above my computer. It wears a shirt upon which is written, "When did my wild oats turn to All-Bran?"

Now that's a question that can keep you up all night trying to come up with an answer. The truth is, I don't know for sure. It just happened. One night I went to bed after sowing a little wild oats, and the next morning, when I woke up, it was All-Bran time. Just like that. Well, maybe not just like that. There were tell-tale signs, if I had been paying attention.

You know it's All-Bran time when you start spending an inordinate amount of time in the men's room, a place which has very little to recommend it, unless you happen to be Larry Craig. Let's face it, a john is a john, until All-Bran time sets in. When that happens you're spending so much time there you seriously start to consider decorating the place.

I should have started to get the idea when my medicine cabinet started to resemble my local pharmacy. Is there anything for which they don't make a pill? I've never taken any of those "if it lasts for more than four hours, see your doctor" pills. My pills are more along the lines of, "If you want to live more than four hours longer, you better not forget to take your pills" pills.

Back pain seems to be an early indicator that your next breakfast should come from Battle Creek. My back hurts when I mow the lawn, vacuum, weed whack, drive more than 50 miles without getting out and stretching, sit too long, stand too long, or lay down too long. It hurts when I'm irregular, and it hurts when I'm not. It hurts when I get up in the morning, and it hurts when I go to bed. It hurts to bend over, and it hurts to straighten up.

My back hurts. Sowing wild oats is out of the question when your back hurts.

All-Bran finds its way onto the grocery list when you start having to hold the list 2 feet from your eyes to read it. Let's see, does that say "Metamucil"? Darn, I just bought that last week. It doesn't taste like orange juice, if you ask me.

I wonder what ever happened to Geritol? Is it still around? I guess a guy could give that a try. Might just perk you right up. I don't care a lot for bran flakes, bran muffins, bran X or bran anything.

Nutritionists say you should start eating bran and spinach when you're young. Spinach is OK, it tastes reasonably good. Why would anybody eat bran unless it was absolutely necessary? Bran tastes like cardboard, and raisins don't make it any more palatable. Don't ask. I am not telling how I know what cardboard tastes like; it might reflect poorly upon my cooking.

It's time for All-Bran when your calendar has more reminders of doctor and dentist appointments then there are days in the month. It's time when you can't wash the dirty parts of your body in the shower without pulling a muscle. It's time when you would rather sit in the dark than get up and replace that burned-out bulb. It's time when you doze off for the night before the sun goes down.

If people hover when you start to do anything and say "Let me get that for you," break out the All-Bran. If I try to tie my shoes, it's "Let me get those for you." "It's OK, Dad, I'll drive." You hear that, and it's time to throw out the wild oats. Your wild oats' days are over.

When you start paying attention to those road signs that tell you how far it is to the next rest stop, you're slipping. You might have to put one of those signs on the back of your car that says, "This vehicle makes frequent stops." When your bowling score is less than your age, your body is telling you something. Sorry, Obama.

I don't drink. My idea of a nightcap is that silly hat that Fred Mertz, Lucy and Desi's neighbor, used to wear to bed or a cup of cocoa. When you can't drink and they won't let you be the designated driver, it's time to consider a lifestyle change. That change should probably include eating lots of All-Bran or some kind of bran. Yuk!



- Glen McAdoo, a Fallon resident, can be reached at glynn@phonewave.net.