Drink of Choice: Akiyoshi 2015 Lodi Chardonnay, Sur Lie aged. Caught you by surprise. Not my usual, but this is quite good.
Music of Choice: Yo Yo Ma and Stuart Duncan, “The Goat Rodeo Sessions.” Yo Yo is a Rock Star of Cello. Its been a few centuries.
What a difference a week makes. When last we heard, your trusty correspondent was a Train Wreck. I knew it was going to be a rough week. Got my injections on a Thursday and then had a very stressful ensuing work week. Not a good cocktail. But alls well that ends well (I think I read that somewhere). The pesky client has paid in full, although I deign to say they’re no longer a client. Until they need me again in an emergency.
So we move on. Big difference this week is I’m finally getting some sleep. And Whatta difference. Night terrors have abated and I’m spending the entire night in bed instead of on the couch watching George Lopez reruns. Not sure what messed with my head more- not sleeping or George Lopez. Still, a mess.
I find that party planning helps. Over the holidays we hosted Christmas dinner for family and friends and had our biggest, best New Year’s Eve Party ever. Its only taken living here for 23 years, but we’ve developed a large enough circle of friends in the neighborhood that we can do these.
So the planning is underway for “56 going on Whatever” to be held a week from Saturday to celebrate my 56th. Haven’t been big on Birthday celebrations for myself, but dealing with Cancer puts a new spin on things. Someday it will be your last. From here on out, they all get celebrated.
Funny old things, birthdays. When you were young it was all-“Yay, Presents,” or “Yay, I get my drivers license,” or “Yay, I’m 21,” or “Yay! You’re not the boss of me anymore.” You get the idea.
Then comes the great middle. Kids, work, life. Your birthday rolls around and its just another day. “Wanna go out?” “Nah, I have to get up tomorrow.” Every now and again its on a weekend and you might do something- or not. It feels like it will go on forever. You know it won’t, but it feels that way.
Next thing you know you’ve got cancer, they remove body parts you were quite fond of and then chemically remove your balls. Sleep doesn’t come easily, sex is a fond memory and you get Hot Fucking Flashes incessantly. For reasons known only to god and mammon you tell valued clients to “Go fuck Yourself.” Suddenly your birthday becomes something to celebrate again. “I’m not dead yet.” You realize- this will not go on forever. Sooner or later, we will all celebrate our last birthday.
So we plan. The format. A Blind tasting of twelve California Red Wines. Most are under $20, a few are over. There will be food. And more food. Vitello Tonno, Carpaccio, Steak Tartare, a Grande Aioli, Brochettes of Beef and Lamb. Perhaps Elk Mini- burgers. Cheeses. Other things. Capon and Sack and the Chimes at Midnight. At least 16 people will be here. My Mother is coming, which is so exciting, cause, you know, she was at my very first birthday, the “0” years old one. If you are reading this, you are invited. Please come. Valet parking, food, drink. Nearby hotels and drivers to get you there. A Sunday Brunch to follow. Please come. 6133 S Greenwood, Chicago. Anytime after 6:00 p.m., wine tasting to start at 7:00. Also, please RSVP. Planning. Its a theme.
Tomorrow and your next Birthday are not promised. Stop ignoring them. Start embracing them. Celebrate them. One of them will be your last.
In the meantime, you are loved. Rejoice in it and be glad.
P.s. Extra credit for getting the Monty Python Reference
My Year as a Eunuch 