Have you ever watched the Changing of the Guard at Buckingham Palace? Clomping steeds. Flashing swords. Shouted orders. Horse poop on cobblestones. A colorful to do about…nothing. Just…change.

It is important to occasionally consider the remaining length of time one might have on this watery little planet as a viable, living, breathing soul. Curmudgeon or not.

We’re all entitled to bear an occasional grudge over a pointless, repetitive, tranquillo-disturbing irritant. But what do we do with one that has been going on since I first sailed into Mazatlán?

A friend who knows me all too well once cautioned, “The stronger your old beliefs, the harder it is to recognize new truths.” Sound familiar?

The Super Bowl hoopla is over. Those myriad TV commercials are back to touting the usual banalities and a season of supposed normalcy looms ahead for your intrepid columnist…or does it?

Like many who have hoped to make amends via a New Year resolution, Mike felt it was well past time to confront a few of his less than sterling habits and personality traits.

Sleep deprivation is generally not caused by lumpy, sagging mattresses, dripping faucets, hooting barn owls or barking dogs. The problem, of course, is all that chatter going on in our heads.

A funny thing happened to columnist Mike Latta on the way to a proposed pleasant afternoon on a sunny Gold Zone beach. He wasn’?t allowed on it.

Obviously anyone wearing salt-faded Levi’s, a reefer jacket, a Timex, sporting a grey beard and pony tail and not dressed in the latest footwear is a homeless bum in today’s Santa Cruz.

These traps abound. Monkey traps. Money traps. Job traps. Marriage traps. There are all kinds of traps. And we know most of the warning signs.