On Black Friday my head was killing me. I had promised Cleetus and Baboo that I would tackle making stromboli at home, just as soon as my dough thawed, which was still several hours away, so I laid on the sofa and before I knew it, I was dreaming. This was odd because I don’t dream anymore, or I most likely do, I just don’t remember them, probably due to the medications I take.

This week I thought I’d write about what I’m thankful for, before I have to cook tomorrow, and I’m still feeling it. The days of mimosas or a glass of wine or five to take me through Thanksgiving Day are long past, so by the time I get dinner on the table what I’m mostly feeling is tired and sweaty, but don’t tell anyone, I put my happy face on. I’ll even engage in after dinner activities, once the damn football is done with. We usually play games, and I have a new one lined up for this year.

Four years ago I wrote a piece for Chronic Tonic about missing my Mom, who is still here, by the way. In that time she has deteriorated a great deal. She no longer enjoys teevee, or knows what playing cards are for, let alone her poker hands. Hell, she doesn’t even really know me, but she does I’m something to her, she still loves me, and I her. But she’s been keeping me pretty busy so without further ado, I am re-running that piece, for those who may have missed it.

This week at the Party we’re going to do something a little different. Instead of telling you what theme to post to, you tell me something. You tell me what the song you’re posting reminds you of or makes you think about. Okay? Okay!

This one reminds me of being 14 or 15 years old and sleeping out in the summertime, and running around the neighborhood at night. Mostly just meeting up with our friends, smoking, and playing cards, but our moms would have been plenty pissed off.

I’ve said many times that one of the true dividing lines in this country, and it’s becoming ever more evident is our teeth. I broke part of one of my back teeth over the weekend and I spent the next couple days alternately contemplating financing an extraction and praying for death. I haven’t had dental insurance in years.

Hey there, Partiers! Tonight’s party will feature any and all tunes from the past twenty-five years. Whatever you like, as long as it’s from then til now~

Take Me To Church

When you come to visit at chez triv, I really do hope that you came to see me, because the house is in no shape for company. We’re an overcrowded house, and in our case, that means a cluttered one as well. We have up to four people on a computer in our dining room at a time. Me on a laptop on the dining room table, the same table that occasionally plays host to two sewing machines. Sewing machines that live in a corner when not in use. Seriously, there’s no room for anything.

I am constantly donating and throwing things away, but it doesn’t seem to make a dent. It’s not dirty, it’s just clutter, but I now realize why my mom used to freak out at us, and I don’t have the child-power here to put to work that she did. There were four of us all clamoring to get out of the house on a Saturday morning. I do not have that. I have Cleetus, who does the heavy cleaning, and Baboo, who straightens up, and does the dishes.

Yesterday Baboo auditioned for his school musical. Now, he’s no stranger to the stage, we’ve had him in a couple of junior theaters and he’s done well, he has some experience. At the last place he attended he played the Beast in Beauty and the Beast, their version of Scar in a Lion King type production, and the Wells half of Wells and Fargo in a musical about the gold rush, but school productions are different. I tried to tell him to do the best he could, but be prepared to not get a part, or at least not more than chorus, possibly to be just on the stage crew.

It’s 80s night here at the SHG, Party People! Anything from the 80s that you like, go for it. Just the tunes, not the clothes~

Crazy Little Thing Called Love

Birthdays, you know, they’re a double edged sword as you get older. Sure, you’d rather have them than not, but 52? When the hell did that happen? Of course, I no longer have any lines in my forehead, but what does that matter at this stage of the game in this podunk town? I’ll give you a little hint–it doesn’t. I do get a kick out of people pointing it out though, it cracks me up. Because they must enter my abode to see it, it’s not like I go anywhere, but I guess if I were doing it for cosmetic reason I would have done it ten years ago.

Truth be told, I don’t feel any wiser either. One would think that after a half century of living I’d have some sage advice rattling around in this head of mine, but one would be wrong. The best advice I can give anyone is: Don’t ask me! I’ve made more mistakes than one could shake a stick at, and that’s the truth. I’m not even clear on the origin of the idiom “shake a stick at” as far as I can tell it had something to do with herding goats, but don’t take my word for that, I could very well be wrong.

More mature? Not likely. Unless we’re talking about gray hair, and I can always dye that. But if you’re looking for the person who still can’t contain their inappropriate laughter in any situation without biting down painfully on the insides of their cheeks, here I am. That’s right, there’s always going to be that adolescent kid in the corner of the locker room of my mind snickering away at the least little thing, and honestly? I’m good with that.

And this year I did kind of make out like a bandit. I got a new sewing machine, which may not sound like the end all be all to some, but me and my older kid are having a great time with it. I’m teaching him how to sew. I think he’s doing a great job with it too…

not too shabby for his first project, huh? My heart is bursting with pride~

So, no, I don’t eagerly anticipate the birthday like I did when I was a kid anymore, but I’ve got a chocolate cream pie with my name on it in the fridge, and like I said–having a birthday sure beats the alternative~