Wednesday, November 13, 2013

Did the New Background Get Your Attention?

I changed the background color of this blog from a simple sweep of Robin's Egg Blue-ish neutral-ness to something you might see on a bad acid trip, not that I've ever taken one. However, if I've done my job right, you should start feeling kinda queasy pretty soon.

In the interest of full disclosure, while I haven't dropped any acid -- not counting my experiences with reflux -- I have been in some really skanky discos in my time [do people still say DISCO?]. 

On reflection, the creepy, almost psychedelic sweep of blobby blue stuff I chose for the new background looks a lot like the soon-you-will-have-a-seizure kinda lights that used to spin around the dance floor as we gyrated in our hot pants and go go boots. We didn't do no twerking back then. Our dirty dancing in the sixties was face to face. [Does anybody remember the late, lamented Lambada of the eighties? Lambada means "ride my thigh with your naughty bits" in Espanol]. 

In the sixties, when I could dance and not have my children make fun of me, I should mention that we wore very colorful designer underwear, since our Puccis got a lot of exposure wearing skirts and dresses that barely covered our heinies [Please don't make me have to explain that word].

Which brings me to my recent Septuagenarian World Tour. So recent, I just got home on Monday. The highlights of my one month of travel about the U.S. included getting hit by a deer crossing the highway, an incident which caused me to think "Hmmm, this could leave a mark." At one point, it looked like the deer and I would intersect in the middle of my windshield. However, we simply bumped rumps -- my bumper and her behind. How we missed one another and both survived is a miracle. 

I celebrated my entry into the world of Septuagenarian Synovial Fluids with a four week trip that started with Door County, Wisconsin during the first week of October. This was followed by five days with friends at a conference in Oak Brook, IL, then a couple of weeks back home. I began the birthday countdown in earnest with a two-week road trip that had stops in Indiana, New Jersey, Pennsylvania, D.C., and back to Indiana again before I got on a plane and spent the last five days in LA. 

Here are some photo highlights, not in any particular order. Keep in mind that I shot over 1000 photos and THESE are the ones I chose to put in the blog:

This picture features the handsome, multi-tatted grandson and granddaughter-in-law of another birthday girl, who was turning 95. The granddaughter-in-law on the left there is the drummer for L7 and her hubba bubba is a digital graphics kinda guy who has been recorded for posterity on one of Nirvana's albums, playing the cello. We had the 95th birthday party for HIS grandma. In fact, we celebrated g-ma's birthday instead of her daughter's and mine, because we are ONLY 70. [BTW, her 70-year-old daughter is two days younger than I. I mention this because somebody at the party asked if her soon-to-be-50 y.o. son [above] was her husband. Nobody asked me anything.] 
This was the view from my hotel during the Oak Brook portion of my trip. I shot this picture, because I think putting up that neolithic, postmodern, high rise building was an affront to the landscape. 

On my first pass through Indiana, my girlfriend and I baked me a birthday apple pie. It was delish.

This was the view from my bed in the guest cabin on my friends' property in Door County.

The weekend before my actual birthday, I was in New Jersey with friends, one of whom was celebrating his 33rd birthday a couple of days before my [gag] 70th. So they gave us a joint party. Here he is putting on all the stuff from the University of Texas that his brother and sister-in-law sent him from Austin. This included socks, pjs, a hat, towel, headbands, wristbands, etc., etc. I got heating pads, Depends, wrinkle remover, and a coupon for a colonoscopy.

During my sojourn in Oak Brook for the conference, we went to see the work of a local sculptor at a well known Chicago area cemetery. Apparently he created several renditions of Jesus holding his hand on the side of his head. Our docent called it, "Toothache Jesus."

One kickass pair of Prada shoes that really do reflect up. This picture was from the birthday party for the 95 year old great grandma.

I spent Halloween in the Washington, D.C. area, where entire houses were in costume.

This is the outside eating area of the Paradise Cafe, where we had breakfast in Malibu. The cafe is next to a trailer park [er, Manufactured Housing Community] with million dollar doublewides overlooking the ocean. 

This is me in D.C. on Halloween, the day after my actual b-day. I'm with one of my nephews at his school. In keeping with the season, I was wearing a zombie costume that he made for me, armholes and everything. I did the makeup according to his specific directions and showed up with his dad at school for their annual costume parade. Turns out I was the only parent-type to dress up. 

This is one of my Indiana girlfriend's grandchildren. He's the same age and looks an awful lot like my nephew in the previous photo. Hmmmm. He assumed several different poses for me when we all went to his little brother's basketball clinic.  
This was a suitable-for-framing type sign posted at a charming little cafe in Kendallville, IN, where I had breakfast with my girlfriend on my second pass through Indiana. 

This photo features one of my PA cousins and her hubba bubba [both of whom serendipitously color-coordinated their outfits to match the front porch]. They recently left the rules and regs of senior living for the privacy of a more charming and much cozier cottage with extra yard space for their grandkids to roam. 

That's all for now, folks. You were hoping for something enlightening or philosophical about turning 70? Get out!


Jon said...

You've done more in the past month than I have in the past decade. I'm envious. The apple pie looks yummy. I'm wondering if the 95 year old great grandma wore a pair of those kick-ass Prada shoes??

We don't put Halloween costumes on our houses here in Texas because they'd blow away in two minutes.
I'm sure as hell old enough to remember trailer parks. I just can't get used to the politically correct term "manufactured homes".....

Donna said...

I can see where nephews might be as good as grandchildren. As long as you have a relationship with them.