Friday, January 1, 2010

Moving On

It’s New Year’s morning and, as I sit at my computer with my traditional New Year’s hangover, I’m relieved that this holiday stuff is finally over. There’s nothing left but the tree.

Years ago my buddy Rib Tip and I decided Super Bowl Sunday was when it came down. I realize it’s a bit of a fire hazard but it’s become tradition.

Valerie and I were at a strange party last night. There were lawyers, artists, and one guy who just got back from the mountains of Peru. He chewed coca leaves with the locals. He also went through some kind of ritual that included exotic psychotropic plants. He had an iPhone with pictures of everything. It filled me with wanderlust.

We do have one more event. William Stage will be taking us out to our friends Dennis and Noel’s farm.

Years ago everyone in my circle of friends either played in a band or worked in a bar on New Years Eve. It was the best money making night of the year. We’d all end up at a friend’s house afterward. The party would continue out in the country the next day.

This is when Rib Tip and I decided we’d start a tradition of jumping into his pond. We had to chop a hole in the ice. The second year we tried it we had a six inch drill bit that wouldn’t penetrate the ice. We were relieved that tradition ended right there.

Rib Tip and I had a strange macho relationship. If he was willing to do something stupid, I had to too. We’d try to outdo each other diving from the highest bluffs we could find on float trips. That came to a stop when a friend of mine dove from a tree, hit a log, and instantly became quadriplegic.

Anyway, back to William. William just had a semi-memoir published about his job as a process server and his search for his biological parents. It’s very funny, I recommend it! (Oh, it’s called Fool for Life).

One of the attorneys at the party last night used him several times to serve papers. It also turns out this attorney owns the Soulard house and court yard we’ve been partying at for several years during Mardi Gras.

It strikes me as odd, all of a sudden, that I never really knew the owners of the house I’ve been intimately familiar with for years. That’s just the nature of Soulard I guess.

While I’m on my “morning after” rant I should also mention my friend, MJ’s, house borders this court yard. Apparently she’s been invited to these parties for years but never went.

MJ is a retired grade school teacher and one of my skydiving buddies. We were skydiving instructors together in Sullivan, MO. She also plays a mean bass clarinet in the Alton Municipal band.

Now that we know the owners of the house, we’ve been officially invited to their next party. The Soulard Dog Parade and Super Bowl Sunday are the same day. I’m going over and drag MJ to the party.

Valerie and I are going into the new year with financial/logistical/emotional uncertainties but I think the older we get the more relaxed we get about our struggles. Maybe it’s a survival tactic but I feel somehow optimistic about what’s coming. People need new beginnings. Not to mention a chance to throw away an unpleasant past.

I have 2 resolutions I’m determined to realize this year. I’m going to finish the record I’ve been working on for years and I’m going to get skinny again. It’s all a matter of distancing oneself from one’s distractions. I’ll learn to stand back in cool detachment in my cocoon of objectivity.

Just for the record this aftermath picture was stolen from the internet. It ain't my place! I also had to repost the pond pic courtesy of Linda and Joe. Brrrrr!


Tony Patti said...

You are plenty skinny. How much skinnier do you want to get. I, too, can confuse youth with skinniness. A certain level of skinniness brings a panoply of wrinkles and even hanging skin, which would hit me for sure around the neck if I went too far.

Anonymous said...

I'm extremely glad you discontinued this asinine "tradition". As a very young teenager working for my Girl Scout swimming badge, one of the first things we were taught was to go into shallow water and splash handfuls of cold water under our arms, on chest, etc. in an effort to prevent a heart attack from entering cold water suddenly!

I don't understand polar bear clubs, especially for old geezers

Your Mom

Dorothy said...

Your mom is right! Tony is also right!

Doggie said...

In the immortal words of Kate Moss," Nothing tastes as good as skinny feels!"

Dorothy said...

Hubba Hubba!