OCTOBER-FREAKING-FEST

Here I sit --- wearing the same shirt I slept in last night, so completely behind on laundry that I'm down to my oldest/biggest/holiest panties --- thanking God that the marathon called October only comes around once a year.

Life is busy. I am old. Let's review:

*OCTOBER 15 - GEEZERS GET WILD AT THE AMERICAN LEGION HALL

There is no better time to be had than can be had at a Geezer Gig. These music-filled gatherings are all about connecting with your tribe...some of who were with you in the trenches of high school...all of who love oldie's music and have made a commitment to suffer through joint pain the following morning. (Never mind the fact that the Dickman would rather play drums with these guys than to spend five minutes with Toni Tennille. Without the Captain.)

We were all looking forward to the Fall dance which was being hosted for the first time with the American Legion Veterans. I had convincingly assured the cynical Commander of the local American Legion Hall what a happy, fun-loving, non-violent group of Geezers we are. Apparently, he didn't quite take me at my word. It wasn't so much anything he said, but more of a feeling I got when I noticed the outline of the bulletproof vest under his dress shirt. (Have you ever noticed how hard it is to make eye contact with a guy that's packing heat?) Sheesh.

I've come to the conclusion that each Geezer get-together adds at least three years to Dora B. Haney's life. Even though macular degeneration keeps her from recognizing faces from long ago, her 86-year old feets still know how to boogie.


Otherwise, the only violations that occurred were committed by a guilty few of us who probably watch waaaaay too much Dancing With The Stars and fancy ourselves to be dancing fools. Fools even worthy of a stage name. Okay, okay, 'Urethra and the Monistats' isn't exactly a real stage name, but hey...it fits.

It's only AFTER the dances - when I'm looking at pictures posted on Facebook - that I realize I am not 26 and I really don't look like Beyonce when I'm shaking my tailfeather. In actuality, I look more like my tailfeather got caught in a cement mixer. (Hindsight is not 20/20 when it is your hind that is being sighted.)

***********OCTOBER 14-22 --- BIRTHDAY MARATHON***********

With so many October birthdays in our family occurring within a span of nine days, I've gotta wonder: Whassa going on in Mid-January that puts everybody in the mood for making babies? Speaking for myself and my own donation to Birthday Week, it was a frolicking ski trip to Red River that resulted in the birth of my son Lucas nine months later, 31 years ago.



Now that we're up to five birthdays, we've found it easier to combine them all into one night of revelry and debauchery. Which in our family means lots of ADHD adults who have given birth to lots of ADHD children, eating lots of cake. A sure-fire recipe for chaos.

In a stroke of genius, I hired a Game Truck for the male portion of the ADHD-afflicted family members. For one glorious hour, they sat spellbound with their remote controls, either blowing each other to smithereens (while their babies sat next to them, innocently enthralled by the Mario Bros)...

...or pretended they were Rock Stars, in the worst way. Really. The worst way.

************OCTOBER 22 --- GEEZER ROAD TRIP!!************

No sooner had Jackie sucked all the helium out of the birthday balloons, than we found ourselves loading up the drums and guitars and hitting the road for Mansfield, where the Geezers had been invited to play for a reunion of Borger graduates from the '60's.

Please allow me to share some random thoughts from our Very First Geezer Road Trip:

1) Men's prostates tend to enlarge as they get older, therefore requiring more frequent bathroom stops. I'd like to think this is nature's way of leveling the playing field for us girls and our dysfunctional uteri and tiny bladders. Guys are never happy about this uh,...development, and will expend a great deal of energy trying to convince us that the size of their prostate has nothing to do with the degree of their machismo. Unless, of course, they happen to meet up with John Wayne, sitting proudly astride his horse at a Sonic Drive-In in Memphis, Texas. There's no fooling John Wayne.

2) Texas is large and restrooms are nasty. The sign outside of this station in Bellevue should have been a warning. It might just as easily have read "Don’t even think about using this bathroom unless you have really strong thighs for squatting or ninja-like hovering skills."

3) Mexican food makes me stupid. Even though dinner was amazing, the company sublime, I was so bloated with tortilla chips and overdosed on salsa that in the excitement of getting my picture taken with Awesome Waiter David and some band groupies....

...I left my not-so-smart phone on the table. Apparently the pimple-faced bus boy mistook my sturdy little flip-phone for an eating utensil and scooped it right on into the tub of water for a good soaking. The management was nice enough to give me a bag filled with hope and rice for reviving my stupid phone. The phone never revived, but hey...anybody hungry for rice?

4) Borger Bulldogs Rock. Maybe it's the effect of all the carbon black we inhaled, or all those hours we spent dancing in lines at Teen Town...but nobody knows how to party better than a bunch of Borgans. The cherry on top? The Borger High football team whooped up on the Pampa Harvesters whilst the band played on...

5) Everyone is a winner in the World Series. While Dickie and crew cheered the Rangers on to a win in Game Four...

I spent the evening with one of my favorite Borger Bulldogs solving First World Problems. We finally concluded that we must find us a plot of land and call it The Peace Farm. We already have the cute t-shirt. Now if we can only figure out how to erect a barrier that will keep out anything that destroys our peace. Kinda like a bug zapper, but without causing death or permanent scarring. A force field that will identify say...people that make us want to pull our eyelashes out one-by-one.

*********OCTOBER 31 --- TRICK OR TREAT***********

Do I really need to state the obvious: by the time Halloween rolled around I was done for, depleted, fingers worn to a nub and sitting in a bowl of Ranch dip.

But I was quickly revived by a visit from the Butterfly Princess, Yoda and a short, blue-eyed whiskered male of unknown species.

It was a fun-filled night --- except for the parts where Dickie kept getting mad at the toddling trick or treaters for choosing the Kit-Kat bars over the candy corn. He has vowed that next year we will only hand out pieces of that nasty taffy stuff. You know what I'm talking about - the cockroach candy of Halloween that would undoubtedly survive the apocalypse.

But today...ahhhhh...today is a new day. A new beginning. The date itself is even hopeful: 11-1-11. October is nine whole months away. Plenty of time to catch my breath, wash my undies and figure out what to do with all those uneaten carrots.

Hey! Maybe I can give them to the Dickman while he's watching old episodes of Captain and Tenille...