When your father turns 80, you get on a plane, even if your dress is backwards. SURPRISE!

  My Dad turned 80 on April 3rd. 
 I broke the law to send him a gift- the kind of gift I'll want when I'm 80, excellent booze and something big and fat to smoke. Actually turns out I broke several laws in the purchasing,transporting, and later, shipping of said gifts. I am such a rebel. (Thank you, Cuba, Key West, TSA, Bob's Liquor of GA and FedEx.) Bath products?? hahahahah

My sisters planned a nice little family and friends gathering. I had plans in GA right up to the event date, so wasn't thinking I'd be able to go, but last minute, the hubster bought the plane ticket and pushed me out the door at 4 am... Three hours after I  went to bed, btw.

Did you know that the one way to avoid horrendous daily Atlanta traffic is to drive it's virtually empty highways at 4:30 am? The usual 45 minute to 1.5 hr trek to the heart of downtown took merely 23 minutes. With roads that empty, me going speeds that high, it was like a scene the first season of Walking Dead, minus the zombies.

I had some social media pals make two birthday videos for me to present to my Dad- sort of an inside joke, and something he could get a kick out of. We have the same twisted humor, and share a love of magic.

Here's the magic trick for my Dad, Jack.

 Mont is available for live magic events, and also is a hypnotist. He can help you quit smoking, reduce stress or lose weight. Or just have him come to your party and make your friends act like chickens and dance ballet in your living room.

MONT MAGIC 

 I also had an Irish comedian make a mock up of the famous Marilyn Monroe Happy Birthday, Mr. President song.  ( I love the youtube videos of her appearing late to the stage, the awkwardness of her drunkenness, the way Mr. President is busted and yet America doesn't get it... or do they? I wish only that the camera had panned to Jackie O's face... just once.)

The real Marilyn.

 This is Mark Manning, an Irish radio and TV broadcaster and voice-over artist, with a brilliant sense of humor, wishing my Dad a happy birthday.

 (one correction: Cookie is not 58. She's 78, but they have been married 58 years in June)
Hire Mark here for professional jobs. He does a lot of corporate work, but you can also have him do his Roger Moore impersonation to make someone's Bond loving day, here.

I tried out the videos on my phone in a crowded bar on Friday night for my Iowa pal, Nancy. She laughed and blushed and was genuinely afraid... Yep. I knew I had a hit on my hands, plus the techno part worked. So. yay.
 Fast forward to Saturday afternoon. ( the short version: park, wait, flight, wait, flight, rent, park, shower, drive, get lost, drive, arrive)

No one knew I was coming.  All I knew was the dinner part was a lobster boil in the garage at one of my sister's houses and lots of people were invited, event to begin at 3pm. My mother mentioned something in an email about Dad not wanting a big fuss, but wait until he sees what it's all about...
My imagination wheels started grinding as I drove the last half mile to the house and saw a bigass stretch Hummer limo on the side of the road. It was well after 3pm...
 Uh oh
 Me: I should have called ahead, or at least texted someone. Crap. They've been doing pudding shots and drinking for an hour, and are now all in that kickass Hummer off to meet Jack's childhood friends and all the old neighbors at some wild party with strippers and flame eaters and Cirque du Soleil hot men in tights serving martinis and feeding people vodka infused gummy bears. They'll be dancing and singing and partying the night away at some secret location, with projected slides of Jack from age 1-80 bouncing off tented walls, where hot girls on trapeze swings rain down cigars and Ecstasy. And I'm going to miss it all. SHIT.

                        We Will Now Pause For A Reality Check Moment

 So, yeah. The Stretch Hummer? Local Prom Night. The men in tights? More like nephews in jeans. Hot girls on trapeze swings? Not so much, more like my three sisters reminding me of the backyard swing set. The same one Mom ran the riding mower up one summer.  (Where was Vine then??)

But you know what?
 We didn't need pudding shots or  Ecstasy. We had this.

                                                   We had family.

                                                   Yes, this little boy

                             grew up and became Daddy to these little girls

who gave him these grandkids

                       
                                                         and these, too.

                 These was a lot of beer and wine at Jack's 80th, some homemade, even!  I need to try that. My nephew makes a mean Strawberry Wine. (not sure he was sold on naming it after me. Would you buy Aunt Linda's Hangover Helper?)
                      We caught up, told stories and apparently did a lot of pointing

                                             
                  We had our own version of hotness. hot things. Men and their fire...

                                        and their hats!   I love this.

                               Wanna see an awesome salt and pepper set?

Jack didn't get strippers, but he did get lobster. 

Next year? He deserves strippers clad only in gold bikinis and lobster bibs to crack open and serve him lobster, drenched in butter. Cue video.

                                                    There was CAKE!

                         
                                       There was outdoor sky fishing.

                 Look! The elusive windy mylar trout! A delicacy in 5 states.

 We lit Chinese lanterns-which should be called floating tree fire starters.

                   
                                                            Oops.

                    Am pretty sure some neighbor reported a UFO.

                It's April. So still ...winter in CNY. So, we had a bonfire.

With these lovely ladies. That's my 78 year old mom. Not. Kidding. 

She's hot, right?

Bonfires can be dangerous. 

Sometimes it all depends on who you are sitting next to.

  Maybe that's sibling affection. I sure hope she wasn't offended by the T-shirt I brought her?

    (Specially printed up in matching colors  for the Sister Weekend That Wasn't)
*sidenote I have never had so many party photos of the back of my head. :)

    The fire was still going when we went home tipsy, smelling all outdoorsy and  lobstery, and watched the birthday videos again, while finishing off the Crown Royal Reserve. It was great.

More than great. I'd do it all over again for this. Priceless.

                                               Happy Birthday, Dad.

                         Thank you for making me the woman I am today.

Better than the pictures, was the look on her face.

I went to the woods to see a friend

I ran down roads lined with scenes like this, as geese flew overhead

She asked me if I missed living in New Hampshire. I said. No. It's too hard to be isolated, to pine for the arrival of a UPS truck, a tree man, a visit from a neighbor. 

( I am a social animal.) 

 After a while, I missed dressing up, wearing high heels, being surrounded by pretty people wearing fashions I coveted. Though, sure, I missed the barn of cows and the raw milk waiting on the other side, the coffee can of cash, fresh cheese. So, I jogged down the road and bought morning eggs from a cooler in a yard, as a rooster greeted me.

 Of course we needed toast with our eggs, so a quick trip in the other direction, yielded fresh country bread, baked three days a week in this oven.

  Sold on the honor system in this unmanned storefront.

 I know that in a few weeks, this beauty will turn ugly. In a few months it will bottle up the people, chain them to woodpiles and fireplaces. The woods will be silent. The geese, long gone.

 And then, I remember, the way a community rallies. 

The way the kindness of your neighbors is what helps you make it through. When the oil runs out. When the ice storm takes your power. When your family is hungry and the driveway needs plowing. A land this pretty needs its ugly parts too. 

And maybe I do miss it. Just a little. 

 Or maybe now, having lived in the ugly for a while, I have forgotten 

how pretty simple can be.

If I could choose my misfortune

Do you ever have days where you think, it just wasn't worth getting out of bed today? Do you ever feel like as you're driving down the road dodging idiots masquerading as licensed, insured drivers ---that you need to go home and stay there?
If I could choose my misfortunes they would all surround material possessions. Replaceable things. Items that don't cry.
Today, I saw in that little blue eye in the middle of my forehead, a really bad thing happening.

There was a guy 50 feet up in a tree in my yard, five guys on the ground, limbs flying everywhere, a tree chipper echoing through the culdesac that could take off Godzilla's tail without blinking and a crew of irrigation"Specialists" wielding a machine with a HUGE trench cutting saw blade.
Help me Jesus. I had a number of potential disasters to pick from.
Then one of the guys asked me to pull Hans-Sharon out of the garage so he could look at the plug on the ceiling, I winced. My little man, my blue eye throbbed.
Um, No. I don't think so, I said, Not until the trees are down and the coast is clear.
He laughed, then ran a sweaty hand over Hans-Sharon's ass. I don't blame you, he said. It can wait. I buffed out his fingerprints and closed the garage door.

Later he came to the door to have me walk the property for the sixth time. I warned him of buried cables, underground speaker wire, dog shit, all the things I needed to tell him and he went back to work. An hour later I hear him on the phone to his Supervisor, "I didn't know it was a cable. I thought it was a fucking root. You know, one of them orange ones, like for them orange trees?"

Let's see how long it takes to get my phone line and cable TV and internet back up.
( this is going out over a wireless feed courtesy of the mystery neighbor. )

Let that be the worst of my misfortune this week, as I go under the knife in the morning, hoping to breathe better in a week or less, and get a softer profile added in. I love my ENT.