Halfway to 70

In honor of my birthday, I'd like to share a few things I've learned in my 35 years.

- You can never own too many dictionaries.
- Nothing good comes from drinking tequila after midnight.
- Sleep when you get a chance.
- If you're patient and not too picky, you never have to buy electronics or furniture.
- Knees don't really heal.
- Nothing is all that weird once you're in the middle of it.
- Know where your flashlights are.

Thanks for having me, Mama. I sure think you did a good job.

kinda sorta birthday party

I tell you what, we run my mama ragged. It doesn't matter if we're talking about a full Thanksgiving dinner or three frozen pizzas (with toppings added) and a salad. Doesn't matter if the guest list is every cousin and 15 friends or the nearest and dearest, complete with babies. We are just gonna wear my mama clean out.



Last night we got mama to throw herself a small bash in honor of her birthday, something she's not all that into. Basically, we all want to descend upon her and then eat cake. It was a lickety-split sort of evening. If you sat still more than five minutes, you probably had a baby, a cigarette, or a slice of venison pizza in your hands. And those babies are wiggly buggers!



Waylon crawled four-on-the-floor for about a day and a half before going straight to the tripod stage (adorable) and is now racing along. This, in turn, sets Owen back a little. His easily-manipulated little friend can now hold his own - a good lesson for any child to learn!





That bruiser of a boy, in the mean time, was trying out this whole "walking in shoes" thing for the first time, and handling it like a champ. I fed him ice until we were both soaking wet and chilly, but he kept popping that wee mouth open like a birdie.




In the end, I know I had a good time. When we get together, no matter what, we make each other laugh. Oh, we're a lucky bunch.

MONSTER PARTY!

The birthday couple:

From my laboratory in the castle east
To the master bedroom where the vampires feast
The ghouls all came from their humble abodes
To get a jolt from my electrodes

(Not only can May write, but she can also make a hell of a birthday cake.)

a coconut bra and a grass skirt

Well, that was a hell of a thing! The allergic reaction is finally behind me (instead of on my behind), thanks to modern medicine and the healing powers of the Gulf of Mexico. I've rolled happily from 31 to 32, and I'm hoping to put a fairly sorry year behind me (too many deaths, not enough zines). I've lost home internet access, but I'm back at work finally.

To celebrate all this, plus my friend Leila's birthday next week, I'm throwing a luau at my house on Saturday night. Ever notice that whenever sitcom characters throw a party, odds are good it'll be a luau, but no one you know ever actually invites you to one in real life? We're out to change that. Hawaiian shirts, tiki gods, and inflatable octopii - what could be better? So, if you're a reader and you're in the area and you know where I hang my hat, put on your best island finery and come wiggle your hips at the Fives. BYOB, but there'll probably be some sort of pork based food to eat.

you were a little baby very long ago

As most anyone reading this knows, I come from a sprawling bunch that's sort of half Addams family and half Louisa May Alcott's March family. 3 sisters, me, mom, stepdad, dad, stepmom, uncles, aunts, cousins, shirt tail cousins, best friends, former bandmates, grannies, friends we didn't know were cousins until years after we bonded - you get the idea. With this many of us, we've got birthdays and odd little celebrations scattered throughout the year. But for my core group, the folks I sat down to dinner with most nights growing up, birthday season is upon us.

Today, my baby sister hits 19 and granny's marking 81. Sis is a bright, smiling, singing girl. I believe she once called herself the white sheep of the family. She got dad's natural physical abilities - no training wheels for her bike, no sir, and the day she got her first rollerblades she was going up and down stairs in them. (Me, I think if man was meant to roll on wheels we'd been born with them.) As a preschooler, she used to like to do pull ups on whatever was handy - the freezer door, monkey bars, my outstretched arm. Well, it turns out that translates to musical ability, too. I can't carry a tune in a two handled bucket, but she took to the mando like a hamster to cheery tomatoes. She's aced her first year at FSU. All this, and she's so damn sweet natured that you can't hate her for it.

Granny's on the other side of life, looking back. And, I tell you what, I know people in their 50s that aren't half as healthy or on top of things as she is. She still drives her little red nu-bug around town (although, to be honest, she is the only person that I, grandpa driver that I am, have ever been behind in traffic and found myself thinking, God damn it, please speed up!). She could stand on her head into her 60s, and would for her grandkids' entertainment and delight. She walks daily, travels the world when she can, and tells crazy stories about my alcoholic biograndfather when I take her out to lunch from time to time.

Next up in the birthday play list comes my sister May (guess what month), then myself two weeks after. One of my greatest pleasures comes from throwing great big parties, complete with a keg of beer, a table of food, show-style fliers as invitations, and usually some theme I can force on my friends. (Pirates for my 30th, for example. I need to figure out what I'll throw together for this year.) And so on, through the summer.

When we were kids, birthdays always involved spreading a sheet on the lawn for an outside supper; juicy juice (a real treat for us hippie kids); a friend or two over to spend the night; books and outdoorsy toys; and a cake by request. One year May figured out she could get two key lime pies from mom - one for her own pleasure, one for the rest of us.

Birthday season, I love it! Bring on the shrimp salad and red velvet cake!

31 and Rising

As a little kid, birthdays meant spreading a sheet in the yard and the whole family eating outside. Juicy Juice - a treat! - and good food and one of mom's amazing cakes (chocolate with chocolate icing, my request every year). A few friends sleeping over. Presents to unwrap: books, first and foremost. A toy sword or bow. Maybe something especially cool like a new pocketknife (I still bear a faint, slim scar from where my very first closed on the end of my finger when I was 9).

Since then I've had big city birthdays and small town celebrations. Drunken weekends complete with candles stuck on beer can to be blown out and birthdays when I didn't drink anything stronger than gingerale punch. Theme parties of all flavors, friends dressed like pirates or bible thumpers or trailer trash stereotypes. Cook outs and pizza dinners and pot lucks.

Some folks don't mark their birthdays, preferring to keep quiet and ignore the whole thing. Me? I like gathering my friends and family, throwing a bash as a present to myself and everyone, marking another year still kicking. For my 31st, I put together a punk show. Two local bands, friends of mine, making noise at my favorite bar. A sheet on the lawn or a gig at St. Mike's - it's not so bad getting older.