OH CRAP!!!

Well, the day has finally come.  My 50's are soon to be officially over.  Yes, in a few short hours I officially jump into the shallow end of my 60's.  I'm still not sure where I stand on that one yet...  Hell, do any of us???

I can cuss like a whore (in 9 languages that I can somewhat remember.  Trust me, I know some REALLY colorful stuff), been me some places, done me some stuff, have met some wonderful souls and unfortunately have been to way too many funerals for way too many fellow crazies.  Oh, Goddess, shell shocked and t-boned way too many times my ass still goes on.  I'm damned thankful for that.  Why did I end up with a royal flush???

I am truly a "scratch and dent" sale.  In retrospect, I have loved every FUCKING second of it.  Even when I had to haul myself off the floor from a fetal position, dust myself off and go on.  Hey, sometimes shit just happens.  And sometimes shit can be an incredible character builder.  Who knew???

Tonight Sea Squirt and I are going out for cocktails and a couple of Reuben sandwich baskets at one of our favorite Madison dives.  I love that!!!  Oddly enough, my needs are indeed simple.  Although Sea Squirt would never admit to that.  I think that he views me as a "bit" high maintenance but I can't really say that I blame him.  Just think hand grenade with the pin pulled out...

Here's to a new door opening.  And Reuben sandwiches in a local watering hole that I love.  Hey, how can life possibly get any better than that???

YOU'RE NEVER TOO OLD TO BE SILLY...

I am a firm believer in this.  Trust me. The older you get the more shit you can get away with.  Pretty much because they just don't want to fuck with you and you're starting to smell funny.  Hey, if you're gonna make an ass out of yourself then just do it proud.  Jayne Mansfield had a quote that I embrace and hold dear to my heart to this day..  "Hey, if you're gonna make a mistake, make it a big one.  You're gonna get blamed the same either way".  How can you not love that???  It has become my credo.  Yes, indeed, I am a train wreck.  Hell, I'd have it no other way.  I have been known to address highrise buildings in the 3rd person and moon a city bus or two.  You don't believe me?  Just ask the guy in Michigan.  Goddess, he has some dirt on me...  He's got so much dirt on me it hurts!!!  Again, I would have it no other way...

I live in Madison, 'sconsin and we are a bit looney here.  Well, basically either under or over medicated at any given moment.  We don't care either way.  Either way can be the roller coaster ride of your life.  Yeah, just a bunch of loonies. I have been blessed.

This is Madison.  We're so not normal.  Today I decided to just cut loose and go completely feral.  Oh, please, I'm only 3 days from turning 61.  I can pretty much do what the fuck I want.  This city has some of the most amazing green spaces, parks and arboretums imaginable.  Truly world class.  One of the best is Olbrich Gardens.  A true stunner.

For the last 8 years a bunch of  crazies has been hosting a party there every July called "Escape Adulthood". Once again, right into the shallow end of the gene pool.  Yep, I did a cannonball.  It was a seminar and I really do use that in weakest terms imaginable.  Oh. c'mon, how can you not love that???  We got to write our own name tags.  BIG mistake!!!  Well, of course, I was Betty Grable.  A Lego licker, an expert napper and a Cap'n Crunch fan..  Yeah, I had to print REALLY small.  Little did they know I had a surprise up my panty hose.  Yes, my fellow cohort, Dr. Benson Honeydew and myself  revealed a "Device To Save The World".  OK, it was really nothing more than 7 cardboard boxes tuct taped together in a rather odd way.  Of course, all the while I am giving my discourse ( I honestly don't even know what that means...) I am wearing a McDonald's kids meal box on my head with a Tickle Me Elmo in my pants that kept vibrating.  I have to admit, that part of it was pretty fun...

As I plummet into my "Golden Years"  (BTW, who came up with that bullshit???)  I'm not going to do it quietly.  Oh, hell, kicking and screaming is SO much my style. Trust me, get the rhino darts ready.  I would suggest you have at least a dozen on hand.  Trust me, I ain't going down easy...

Sing like nobody is listening.  Dance like nobody is watching .  And then run naked in the front yard through the sprinkler. Scare the shit of your neighbors.  Hell, that's what they're there for!!!

Never, EVER stop being silly!!!

TODAY, WE LOST AN ICON...

Oh my stars, we have just lost something so precious.  Her name was Elaine  Stritch..  Star of Broadway, films and television.  Hey, if you're going to do it, well, then do it right.  Reach for the stars and just grab them out of the sky.  It just can't get any better than that.

Her character spanned decades.  She was a brassy old broad (goddess, I love those kind of women), she never backed down and she went through treatment a couple of times.  And again, never backed down or made excuses for who or where she was.  Again, I love that.  When you can embrace your mistakes and shortcomings openly it's a giant leap forward.  And I applaud her for that.  It does indeed take a LOT of stones to take that exit. It can be wreck less and scary. To go public the way she did took  "stones" to a whole other level.  I bow to her for her back bone.

Dear woman, you did indeed entertain me.  It more was than you can possibly imagine.  Travel safe, travel far and tap dance on stars...

IN THE NAME OF GODDESS, WHAT THE FUCK WAS I THINKING???

Corn.  Oh, wonderful corn!!!

Tonight my kitchen turned into its own private hell.  OK, I'll be honest, it was a self inflicted injury.  The sad part of it is, I never even saw it coming.  As an aside, I am one of those loons that raids local farmer's markets and road side stands looking for the fresh stuff that I can stock the freezer with for the winter.  Please, by the time I'm done our freezer looks like I'm stocking up for the siege of Moscow.  As Goddess in my witness, I'll never go hungry!!!

At any rate, I've been yanking stuff out of freezer like crazy to make room for the current years stash of nibbly bits.  Low and behold, buried back in the corner I find two boneless, skinless chicken breasts.  Damned near a year old.  Thank Goddess for vacuum sealers.  So I yank them out, put them in the fridge to defrost and then quickly forget about them.  Yeah, this was about 3 days ago.  Well, I found them today.  Well, I thought to myself, what the fuck am I gonna do with these things?  Fast!!!  So, I just grab one of my cookbooks off of the shelve.  Yeah.  Betty Crocker.  1959.  That should have been my first red flag...  I decided to make chicken breaded in smashed Corn Flakes. (For you readers out there that are familiar with this recipe, well then, you're as old as me!!!)  Again, what was I thinking???

So, I throw this simple 5 ingredient recipe together and pop it in the oven.  45 minutes later, it's dinner with some wonderful locally grown sweet corn (also from last year).  Hey, I was totally cool with that.  I think the last time I actually had this chicken was back in the early 1960's.  Goddess, I love me a time machine...

When we were done I looked at the baking dish and cringed.  At 375 degrees for 45 minutes butter, chicken grease and Corn Flakes turn into mortar.  A building material if you will.  The "scunge" (yes, that's my own word) that was baked onto the bottom of that thing was frightening.  I soaked it.  Without much success.  I went at it with scrubbies.  Then steel wool.  Again, all without much success.  So I soaked it again.  Hell, it's still soaking.  This stuff is a weird  cross between adobe and concrete.

I have racked my brain.  I don't remember my mother or any of my aunt's hitting this road block.  What the hell did I do wrong???  Have Corn Flakes started being made out of asbestos now???  I'm getting real close to just tossing the damned thing and buying a new one.

Goddess, why???

CHEESE...

OK, this really doesn't have shit to do with cheese.  I just thought that would be a good lead in...  After all, this is 'sconsin and we are indeed about cheese...

I am two weeks away from hitting a milestone.  Yeah, another birthday.  But this one is a  big one.  I officially am about to enter the 6th decade of my life.  Hmmmm.....  That's sort of an eye opener.  61.  I'm not quite sure where I stand on that one yet.  I am old, opinionated, cranky, bitchy, ornery, somewhat dangerous (to myself and others), nowhere near politically correct (thank goddess),  a bit crazy, a whole lot insane and I make some frightening noises when I move.  Hey, you have to put some effort into that cul de sac.

Oddly enough, in the last week I have done a whole lot of self evaluation.  My own little personal Purgatory.  Hey, ain't nothing more scary than judging yourself.  Growing old doesn't scare me.  But I hear the clock ticking louder.  Now, that does indeed scare the fucking shit out of me.  But, such is life...

I have spent my whole life having me a damned good time.  I am a country boy at heart.  Hell, I grew up chasing chickens and putting pennies on railroad tracks.  Yeah, I was a bit of a strange child.  Surprised???  I remember mayonnaise jars full of lightening bugs.  Which I would inevitably open up in the house.  Grandpa would cuss like a sailor and grandma would always come to my defense.  And then she would give me some Kool-Aid and some Oreo's.  Yeah, good times.  I miss those two so much it hurts.  They were both about the same age I am about to hit when they died.  Fuck me to tears!!!

High school was a joke and I barely made it through college.  Total waste of time and money.  I did party my ass off though.  In an odd way I guess it was money well spent.  Thank goddess it wasn't my money...

I've looked back on almost 6 decades and I see passports (4), airports (way too many. but still not enough of them yet), timezones (all of them) and countries that no longer even exist.  When I was young I was stupid.  Hell, isn't that what youth is all about?  I have nurtured that ever since.  Yeah, there is still a smile on my face.  You can't stop yourself from growing older but you do have the power to never grow up. Hey, if you can't tap dance naked in the rain then you're just missing the point of the whole journey.  I love that!!!

I love life so damned much it hurts.  And I'm glad to still be in it.  In two weeks Sea Squirt and I will be sitting in one of my favorite local dives, enjoying a Reuben Sandwich and a couple of beers with friends.  Yeah, life is indeed good...

Here's to cheese!!!

HOLLYHOCKS...

I am still trying to recover from what I refer to as an "Alice D. Flashback".  I was laughing so hard that Sea Squirt had to pick me up off of the floor.  For the second time this week I was transported back in time more than half of a century.  Once again, it was delicious...

A very good friend of ours has a garden out at her grandparents farm.  Can't for the life of me remember her grandmothers name ( very sweet lady that has problems carrying a radish).  Her grandfather's nickname is "Junior" and he's just a crusty old fart.  I love them both.  He's 88 years old. The stuff that comes out of his mouth just reduces me to tears at the picnic table.  Stuff like "You know, she won't let me feel her tits anymore!".  He has made me blow more iced tea out my nose than I can possible recount.  I love that kind of orneriness.

So, anyway, our friend posts some pictures of the garden on Face Book.  Some of them included some shots of hollyhocks.  That's when the time machine kicked in and the giggling started.  Yeah, 1959.  apparently I can say the word hollyhock but show me a picture of them and I go full blown bat shit crazy.  Again, the time machine.  Once Sea Squirt finally got me up off of the floor and back up into the chair I began to recount the story.  He looked at me with shock on his face.  Something akin to "how many head injuries have you had???".

I am the youngest grandchild on both sides of my family.  So I was "special".  Which didn't have quite the same connotation back then than it does now.  Although, when I think about it, it probably should have. Trust me, I'm short bus from the word go!!! Any who, just off of the back porch was a short white picket fence that was surrounded by hollyhocks on both sides.  These things were a palette of wondrous colors.  I was fascinated by them.  Yeah, I've been gay since the goddess was a small child.  Somehow, and I honestly can't remember how, I figured out that if picked off a full blossom, turned it upside down, stuck a toothpick into it and stuck a bud to the top of it it kind of looked like a female flamingo dancer.  No wait, that should be flamenco dancer. Sorry about that... I would line them up on the top of the fence.  Yep, I'm actually THAT gay.  This memory was so fucking vibrant it hurt.  I was in heaven...

When I was finally able to relate the story to Sea Squirt the look of disbelief  in his eyes was sort of frightening.  And in all honesty, you can't fault him for that one.  I could actually see the gears turning in his head.  And that question...  "Why the hell did I wink at you on Match.com???.  To this day, I ask the same question.

You have to be this old to have this much experience, excitement, craziness, over/under medication and just plain fun.  I would have it no other way.  Hell who wouldn't???

Dance.  Sing.  Go completely nuts.  Hell, ain't a better way to go through life than that...

HYPOGLYCEMIA...

Oh, goddess, why did you do this to me???

Hypoglycemia.  It's a fucking horrid medical condition.  And I'm up to my tits in it!!!  For those of you out there that know, well, you know that I've got it.  You've seen me have some "episodes" as I like to call them.  For the rest of you, let me fill you in...

I come from a LONG line of diabetics.  Yeah, that means your pancreas just isn't making enough natural insulin and your blood sugar sky rockets.  It's called insulin injections.  Well, I decided to take the other exit.  I have, quite possibly, the worlds most over active pancreas that you can imagine.  For no reason whatsoever it will kick into hyper-drive and flood my system with so much insulin that it doesn't need it hurts.  If I am lucky I may get as much as 30 seconds warning.  But usually not.  With any luck I at least get to sink to my knees before I pass out.  But again, sometimes not.  That sucks ass and I have the scars to prove it.

With no warning I get dizzy.  Then I get tunnel vision.  Then I start wobbling.  If I'm lucky I can at least scream "HELP!!!" before I quite literally disappear into the abyss.  Gasping for breath and sweating like a race horse. Fucking horrid and nightmarish is just the tip of the iceberg.  Over the last 10 years I have educated Sea Squirt on this nightmare.  I've no other option, he's just seen me go through this WAY too many times.  When he hears me yell "juice, now!!!" he knows what I mean.  He has literally picked me up off my back, propped me up and just started shoveling sugar into my mouth.  For the next hour I am a babbling idiot, yet, he manages to put up with it.  Thank goddess for small favors.

I did not know that I had this until I was 38.  I came within seconds of totally passing out while driving on the Interstate.  I luckily managed to make it to the shoulder and get the car into park.  It scared the bloody shit out of me.  A couple of weeks later I'm sitting on an exam table at a doctors visit and just go flat on my back.  They tested my blood sugar.  I didn't have any. None!!! Yeah, pretty much completely fucked. They poured so much juice into me it was amazing. I finally regained conscientiousness to find myself hooked up to a glucose drip.  It took me almost two hours to become vocal again.  Scary as fuck!!!  Well, of course, I end up with a nutritionist who tries to help me through this hell.  I had to completely change the way that I ate.  I had to give up 3 squares a day and become a grazer.  Yeah, I became a "muncher".  Pasta and I became very good friends.  I had to give up doughnuts.  That alone damned near made me want to hang myself!!!  But you do what you gotta do, right?

Over the last 2 decades I have realized that even when you do everything right sometimes it just doesn't work.  A pancreas can be a real bitch.  A truly completely  mean bitch!!!  Passing out is not my idea of a walk in the park with a purse dog.  Over the last year I have been getting slammed by this.  Big time. At least three times a month.  Out of nowhere for no fucking reason.  I hate unconsciousness.  goddess, why???  WHY???  Give me an answer.  Or at the very least, a clue...  Am I supposed to be learning something from this???  Just gotta tell you, it just isn't working real well.  Getting fucked dry just doesn't make a lot of sense...

To my fellow victims of this nightmare, I bow to you. Hell, I bow to us.  Only we can know what this means.  This just ain't easy.  With any luck you have very good friends that will pick you up, dust you off, prop you up, bring you some juice and a towel to wipe off the drool that we are more than likely covered in.  Sometimes shit happens.  And then sometimes shit just sucks ass!!!  I hate being picked up off of the floor when I'm not even really fucked up on something fun to do.

I want to sub-divide my pancreas and put in on Craig's List just to get rid of most of it.  I just don't need this much pancreas.  Or an enemy that evil.  goddess... why???

I AM AT A CROSS ROAD...

Dear goddess, pick me up and dust me off.  I am careening wildly into an age I never, EVER thought I would reach.  Yet, here I am.  I am within days of being halfway to 122.  It's blind panic on the brown acid.  I remember my grandparents being this old and they were FUCKING ANCIENT!!!!

I cannot believe that I am this fucking old.  But, I've been me some places and done me some the things..  goddess, come sit next to me.  I will tell you some stories that will scare the scales off of you.  I am indeed the weird dude with a passport, a plastic bag full of socks and an airline ticket.  Oh, wait, let's not forget about the smile on my face...

I have no idea where this comes from.  I am horribly, horridly damaged goods.  I truly am a train wreck of unimaginable proportions.  Shit, I scare myself sometimes.  Well, actually, pretty much daily when I think about it...  The fact that I am not in prison amazes me.

That I am not radio collared and ear tagged is kind of confusing me.  And goddess knows, I am indeed easily confused.  I'd have it no other way...