Getting Dirty On My 37th Birthday

Today is my 37th birthday. I share it with Keith Richards, Brad Pitt, Blaze Foley, Ty Cobb, Josef Stalin... Some of us are dead and some are alive. One day, I'll be dead. But today, I am alive. And my backyard is a mess.

Our septic system has suffered an agonizing and smelly death. Just in time for the holidays. Isn't that always the case? Well, it is. It's the law. Who am I to fight it? Who are any of us, really? No need to fight when you can dig a hole nowhere near China but still pretty damn deep.

I hope the Dogwoods live...

Promised the kids we'd build a fire. Children will hold you to your word. They do not care if you have large worker men handling big, heavy equipment in your backyard. When the time comes to roast marshmallows, alien landscape be damned.

Here's a little birthday rendition from The Fam. At least the part of it that didn't go to play golf today. Listen closely at first...

We don't let huge mounds of dirt stop us. We are a merry bunch.

I'm not going to go on about how I feel about birthdays. If you're younger than me, I probably feel worse than you do. If you're older, I might possibly feel better. More than likely I don't, though. Keep it between the ditches. I'll try to do the same.

Whatchu Talkin' 'Bout, Willis?

Do you think Gary Coleman had or exercised a great deal of common sense? I'm not sure he did but it's not my place to condemn him for it. He had his struggles. He was a human being after all.

We humans are a fallible and fragile bunch. And we are easily traumatized by physical and mental horrors. A week ago, I was impressed by the hard work my Dad was able to do at the age of 69 (almost). But he seemed saddened by what he can't do any longer. He talked about it quite a bit. He stopped to rest in the shade at regular intervals. He's never had to do that before. He's wearing down and he knows it.

My Mom expressed her desire to go tubing with us on our vacation in Pigeon Forge the week of the 4th. She's never gone and she's afraid it's already too late. We'll take the kiddie run but if it requires any walking in the water to get over shallow spots, it's out of the question. She can't walk without her brace and her brace won't work in the river on rocks. She urged me to do as much as I can right now. They both agreed it doesn't get any better. That I should jump in with both feet while my feet still work.

All of a sudden, I felt shot through with life and energy. I felt the need to grab the bull by the horns. I stayed up late and laughed and swam with naked friends. I ate and drank and was merry. I've been working on being more socially at ease so I accepted the invitation to the movie party. I was really excited. I said so on FB so you know it's true.

I have a right knee that pops, grinds, catches funny. I had to drop my Glide class because it stirred it up more than it helped it. I injured it roller skating as a child and it's never been any damn good. Except it has. It's gotten me everywhere I've ever wanted to go. I lost weight to help it out. It's been a good knee. I've talked about having it looked at and possible surgery. I talked about it and chugged along. It took me to the party. It took me to see a movie I've never seen. And when it was my turn to get on the trampoline for my jumping photo, it climbed up there with me. It climbed up to jump. To feel free. To have fun before it's too late to have it. To be like everyone else.

My husband didn't say much when it happened. He'd had some beer and I'm told I was very matter of fact and stoic. I simply said, I fucked my knee up. I thought that was detailed enough. When he came home last night, I asked him if he was angry with me. He said, "No, but I do wish you'd used a little more common sense." That pissed me off a little. I showed this photo to him and I'll show it to you now.


Does this look like a man using his common sense? I think it looks like a man buffered from danger by alcohol. I was stone cold sober. That was my problem. After showing him this evidence, I stuck my tongue out at him. I thought it the only sensible thing to do. I love him but sometimes, I'd like to sic Gary Coleman on him.

Movie-Thon Gone Awry

It was going to be a lot of fun. We were invited over for a projected viewing of The Thing. We filled the pool and discussed whether the alien would construct his own cover memories for this night.

Everything was set-up and ready to go.

April rode with us and enjoyed seeing Keith again.

Leah was shocked by the dipping of Jon's krahm.

Before night fell, we fooled around by getting photos of everyone in action on the trampoline.

The photos really are great.

And that's when the party ended for me. On my fourth jump, my right knee made a powerful popping sound and as I fell to the trampoline, I knew I was fucked. I sat up, rolled off the side and sat on a wooden platform to put my shoes on. I then hobbled my way into the house in a great deal of pain and emptied my clenching bowels. When I made it out to the van, I climbed in and turned on the air. I felt faint. Everyone gathered by the van window and looked in as if I was a dead woman in her coffin. They shook their heads and offered their apologies. Someone offered some pain medicine and a muscle relaxer and you better bet I took that. April acted as our designated driver and graciously drove us home.

Yesterday, I went to the Ortho. X-rays were taken, cortisone injections was administered, knee brace and crutches applied, ice, ibuprofen and Vicodin prescribed. I am to follow up on Friday, the 2nd and the day before we leave for a family vacation in Pigeon Forge, to see if I'm improved. If not, they will proceed with MRI to rule out torn acl, mcl, a bunch of cl's and the meniscus. If that is the case, I'm facing surgery after vacation. I can be thankful I didn't break my damn fool neck and that whatever I did to my knee, I did while out of school/work on Summer vacation.

And now, here I sit propped in bed, typing away and telling you all about it.

Clarification

My husband is a private man. He fell in love with me because he felt as though he could be himself and share everything with me. That's what he told me and I am inclined to believe it. Why? Because private men are quiet men. When they speak, you listen. Hard.

I am not a man nor am I particularly private. I will share almost anything about myself for a good story. I also share other's stories (within reason) in pursuit of the ol' guffaw and chortle.

Do you see the rub?

My previous post seemed too much information when I wrote it and but less so now. I think Joe would approve a little less vagueness. Bullet points should do the trick.

• Paragraph 1 addressed me aging and the resulting hormonal cliffhangers. I've been wrecked by PMS for a couple of months now. Never been a problem before. Now it is. The week of Spring Break wasn't pretty. I was awakened one morning by Sam and Zoe standing by my bed. It was 8 am. Pat pat pat went a little hand. We're hungry said a little voice. And I opened my eyes and said, "You've already made me angry." I said that to my little children who are five and three years old. They asked their Mother to feed them, and she said... that. Wow. But that's not all. I didn't stop. And I did it to Joe. And my Mom. And Leah. And when it was all over, it was as if I'd snorted fire ants and spewed venom in a dream. But it wasn't a dream. When pressed, my husband said he would describe me as "easily agitated" during that week. Leah took to calling me Eleanor after Anjelica Huston's character in The Life Aquatic. If I wasn't biting off some one's head, I was sobbing. I plan to go see the doctor and speak with him about the possibilities of feeling sane again.

• Paragraphs 2 & 3 deal with my ongoing obsession with "Crispy Lettuce" a term we use to describe flower arrangements delivered after they begin to decline. Therefore, it addresses living things beyond their prime. To sum it up, Paragraphs 2 & 3 are about aging.

• Paragraphs 4 - 7 revolve around watching my strong, silent, sexy man move into his forties. It's about him being just as affected and vulnerable as I am. It's about me remembering my dad turning forty years old.

• Paragraph 8 was a feeble attempt to express my fear of losing my parents. Not once in my whole life have I imagined my life past this point. Grow up. Get job. Get married. Have kids. Parent them.... And then what? Well, now I must consider becoming the grandmother. I've never done that before. Don't get me wrong. Logan is 13. I've got a nice wait ahead of me, I admit but... it's on my mind. My parents have sold off the boat and some of the scooters. They talk about being "give out" and their skin hangs funny anymore. Everything my Mother was, I am now. And she is what I will someday be.

• Paragraph 9 should have said: I want to live and living is aging. I know that.
  

• Paragraph 10 was a genuine request for the gift of fortitude. And a reliable method of eradicating dandelions.

And there you have it. The people in my life have never been as old as they are right now. I've never been this old. I'm treading in virgin territory so to speak and it's been a long, long time since I was a virgin. I don't zoom down the drive on my Hot Wheel anymore but at least I haven't resorted to stalking carpenter bees with a tennis racket.

(snicker, snort)

I think I can live with that.