I absolutely love where we live. I love the old houses and architecture, I love the community and the people, I love the proximity to town, and I love that we have an urban jungle – complete with creek – in our back yard.

But as C was watching the Elmo-the-babysitter play tag with Elmo yesterday, I got sad for a beloved part of my childhood that C and her siblings will never really have: Hide and Seek (except I remember calling it “Hide and Go Seek” with an extraneous “go” thrown in for those unclear on the concept).

I remember entire evenings consumed by Hide and Seek. I remember being mad at neighbors who wouldn’t play because “90210″ was on tv. I remember yelling and screaming and trying not to get caught. I remember being frustrated that I had to stop playing long enough to eat, and I remember playing until it got too dark to play and then making plans to play again the next day. But most of all I remember running up and down the neighbors’ yards, hiding behind trees or sheds.

Damn, those were good times. When I was a kid, I was never particularly great at most sports; I played entire seasons of baseball without a single hit. But I was fast enough to win medals in track the one year I ran in high school. Hide and Seek was my real game. It was a game of simple rules and running your guts out.

But I don’t think there’s a lot of Hide and Seek playing in ONK. You could ascribe it to the homeless problem, and that was my first thought, too. But the truth of the matter is that the small lots and busy streets just aren’t conducive to the game. And the fence around our (50′x200′) property doesn’t help too much, either. Sure, there are several great parks within a half a mile of my house, but neither of them offer much for Hide and Seek enthusiasts.

But still, I think I will try to get the kids interested the next time we have a crowd over at our house. And maybe it would help if I joined in.

I was perusing boingboing/offworld’s 15 Games for Your New iPhone, and I caught myself thinking “this sounds too complicated. Most of these games sound too complicated.”

Does that make me old? Or is it my parents’ fault for not buying me a Nintendo when I was a kid?

I don’t know. What I do know is that I don’t miss it at all. I don’t miss the money I would spend on hardware, and I don’t miss the time I would spend trying to “win,” which is a dubious concept.

But then I do like a good game of solitaire, and I just noticed that I’m in the middle of a five game winning streak on the solitaire program on my beloved iTouch.

So does that make me old? “Sonny, I don’t do those modern game-things you kids are playing. You run along and play, now. You’re gonna be late.”