Droolie at Fifteen

Today, Droolie turns 15 years old, at least by his veterinarian's calculations. He showed up at the Greensboro house in late 2012, and at first, I thought he might be the same cat that had mysteriouly appeared (and then disappeared, equally mysteriously) at least a year or two earlier, whom I called Scrapple (see "Scrapple II?" December 8, 2012). For all I know, he may actually be that cat, but I decided to name him "Droolie" when it became clear that he drools when he's happy. Since he's been that way since day one and he's usually happy, well, it was the perfect name.

 

And here he is, all these years later, generally doing very well, although he keeps getting these recurring sinus bugs, and I have to give him medicine that he really does not like (well, it's actually people medicine, and I can attest that it tastes awful).

 

Some might remember that, in his younger days, Droolie made a vocation of redecorating my place, and so, he became the proud proprietor of Designs by Droolie™. He still indulges in some creative interior design and decorating now and again, although he mostly spends his days in semi-retirement, usually seeking and chasing treats keep himself active.

He and I both hope he'll remain in good health for the foreseeable future. He's looking forward to his 16th birthday so that he can finally get his driver's license.

treats dad need treats now TREATS!

Birthdays, Broken Ribs, and Broken Teeth

Kimberly's birthday and mine are (a few years) and one week apart, so after celebrating mine last week, it was her turn. Sadly, after the festivities last Saturday night, she tried to wrestle with me and fell off the bed, striking the corner of her nightstand and breaking three ribs in the process. So, she's had a rather painful week of it, though she's definitely improving.

On her birthday eve, we ventured to our regular Friday afternoon hangout, Hamlet Kitchen, where our friend Yvonne popped in to visit with us. Then we went for an excellent sushi dinner at Yamato Japanese Restaurant, which really hit the spot since it's been a long while since either of us have had sushi.

 

Yesterday, to begin her birthday festivities, we went up the street to visit briefly with friends Joe & Callie, who had helped celebrate my birthday last week. They have this thing called "Meat Day," for which they open their doors to just about anyone who dares enter, and Joe grills a variety of meats all day long. Brugger is not much of a Meatosaurus, but I am, so we sampled a few of the treats, which were awesome, and even Ms. B. approved.

 

From there, we headed to Greensboro, first to our regular hangout from our days in North Carolina, State Street Wine Company, and then for dinner at Pangaea Bistro, which we'd never tried before. Here, we met friends Terry & Beth, Joe & Suzy, and the "other" Mark & Kim. Yep! We definitely enjoyed the dining experience here...except, right at the end of the meal, I took a bite of very soft potato and broke a fucking tooth. Lower molar, busted right in two. So a trip to the dentist will be on the menu very shortly. Uggh.

 

To finish off the evening, we decided to return to State Street, where we hung out long enough to have another drink. We mellowed there for a good while so we'd have no worries about heading back home.

So, apart from unexpected body parts breaking, Brugger and I had damn nice celebrations this year. After all these years of birthdays, I think she's finally older than I am. Cheers!

What? Another Barfday?!

Oh, come on. No way is it birthday time again. I'm pretty sure I turned 66 only a few days ago, and now I'm turning 67. What the fook? Yeah, I know, getting older is better than the alternative and all that, but the increasing speed at which these years keep zooming past is staggering. At this rate, I'm going to be a pile of cremains as of yesterday.

A few days back, I vaguebooked about certain hard times that were sucking out my very soul, and while I'm not entirely free of those issues, things are better. A lot better, for which I thank Yog. I'm going to say that my Birthday Eve last night was the best ever. No shit! Lately, Kimberly and I have been regularly spending Friday afternoons at nearby Hamlet Kitchen, a lovely local wine spot three minutes up the road, and so yesterday, we made it a little birthday celebration—just the two of us, but damn, it was nice. And tonight, we had good friends Joe & Callie over for dinner, drinks, and what amounted to a raucous rumble that almost resembled dancing. 

Kimberly very kindly gave one of her beautiful handmade cards for my birthday, and just above, you can see it on the living room bookcase, with a wee bit of support from Gabora and Baragon. Splendid! 

Her birthday is next Saturday, so we'll be celebrating that in some fashion as well. As you can see in the photo below, she's getting really, really old.

Oh, wait, that's the guy behind her. Sigh.

Brugger and Old Dude having a birthday eve celebration at Hamlet Kitchen

Old folks prior to the shenanigans

Made lemon-garlic shrimp for dinner

Old Dude, Brugger, Callie Hietala, Joe Keiper getting ready for dinner and whatever the hell it was that came afterward.

The whatever-the-hell-it-was that came afterward

The Void Project, Karaoke, & I Am Old, Drink My Scotch

"Between waking and sleep lies a place you were never meant to wander. A borderland where time bends, shapes twist, and whispers follow you. It’s the layer of night where dreams blur into nightmares—where every culture tells the same stories of shadows, watchers, and figures that shouldn’t exist. Step too far into this in-between, and you’ll discover why some doors are better left unopened."

Friday evening, Ms. B. and I drove the dark, winding backroads up to my first college alma mater, Ferrum College, up in the boonies of neighboring Franklin County. Last year, the newly opened Ferrum Park put on its first haunted trail attraction, the theme of which was to find some missing hikers—without going missing yourself. This year, the event was called The Void Project, described in the passage above. Like last year, the trail setup was not all that extravagant, but it was absolutely a hootin' good time. There were a few roving creatures, some pitch-black corridors, optical illusions, and creepy alien sounds. I hope there will be another haunted trail there next year, and I might consider helping out with the setup, especially if I can be roving monster. Ha-HA!

 

Brugger and I survived the trail experience, and afterward, since it was on the way home, we stopped at Scuffle Hill Brewing in Collinsville, where friends Scott & Jamie joined us for a few brews and some raucous karaoke. Ms. B. and I both hollered a bit, but nobody ran screaming, so we shall have to try harder next time.

 

Friday was friend and fellow writer Richard Dansky's birthday, and each year, to celebrate, he holds a pretty large gathering at his place in Durham. He calls it "I Am Old, Drink My Scotch," and he puts out innumerable bottles of scotch along with a huge spread of Meats and Cheeses™, not to mention veggies, sweets, and other culinary goodies. This year's event was yesterday, and Ms. B. and I both planned to go. I had reserved a room for us at a hotel near Richard's place, but our cat Moose has developed what we fear is diabetes, and he was not doing well, so she stayed home to be with him. I set out yesterday morning, drove to Durham, and proceeded to hunt a good many geocaches, some of which involved some fairly serious hiking (although nothing as extreme as a couple of last week's outings at Wintergreen). There was also a cache at a very old graveyard hidden in the woods ("Leigh Farm Park Cemetery," GC95G2C), which was apt for the season, and probably my favorite of the day.

I settled in at the hotel about 3:30 p.m., showered and got presentable (as much as possible, anyway), and as the event's 7:00 p.m. starting time approached, I ventured out to the grim and morbid environs of East Durham, grabbed a handful more geocacches, and finally arrived at the grim and morbid Chez Dansky, which was properly decorated for both Halloween and a celebration for turning older than dirt.

 

Indeed, there was scotch. Lots and lots of scotch. And so many Meats and Cheeses™. Silly me, I was so preoccupied most of the time that I hardly took any photos at all. The ones I did take are below. Since Brugger didn't make it and Richard was largely occupied with hosting duties, I was pretty much a stranger in a sea of faces I didn't know. I tend to feel a bit awkward in such circumstances, but I did get into interesting conversations with several folks, all of whom were very nice and sociable. It helped that many were writers or involved in various creative businesses. So, I'm hoping that there will be many more Richard Dansky events, birthdays and otherwise, and that in the future, Ms. B. can accompany me.

Thanks, Richard, for being such a perfect host.

A most appropriate card for the aged Mr. Dansky

Chez Dansky, lit up for the season

The tiniest sampling of the cheezes available at the massive spread

Two-Thirds of 666

Well, another revolution around the sun completed—66 of them now. It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, all that good stuff. I may not be quite the energetic, daft young fellow I was yesterday, but I'm doing all right. Ms. B. had surgery earlier this week, so I've been playing almost-nurse maid for a couple of days, but she's doing as well as can be expected, and she felt up to going out for dinner tonight (though not up to the Blue Ridge Parkway and Chateau Morrisette, which was our first choice prior to knowing her surgery schedule.

But I jump ahead. I woke up right about sun-up, buried by the usual furry suspects, though I lay in bed for another hour or so. Once up and about, I decided to head down toward Reidsville for some traditional birthday geocaching. There were 17 mostly park & grab caches awaiting my presence, so I knocked them out and got back home at lunchtime, so I treated myself to a grilled cheese sandwich. Hopefully, all that cheesy, buttery goodness won't subtract a year from the life clock. Lord knows I haven't eaten all that healthily since the first of the year. But I've been walking my ass off daily; as of now, my 365-day average daily number of steps is 8,890 (4.03 miles per day).

 

So, for dinner, we went to TAD Tavern, Martinsville's most upscale restaurant (which I hope is doing okay because there wasn't much of a crowd tonight). I had a fantastic bison steak, with martini, and Kim had a brussels sprout salad with chicken and a Chardonnay. Then we came home and spent the usual late evening watching TV together (Godzilla vs. Destroyah and Dexter: Original Sin).

 

Ms. B. gave me a Godzilla figure as a present. Any birthday with Godzilla is a lovely birthday. Hopefully, we'll all make it till next year and there will be more Godzilla. Peace out.

A Happy Brugger Birthday

Brugger turned older than the hills — again! — today. This past Saturday, we'd gone up to the Blue Ridge Parkway to celebrate both of our birthdays ("Blue Ridge Parkway Caching, Wining, & Dining"), but as always, we had our own mellow little celebration at home on the actual day. For her birthday dinner, she wanted her special "French Onion Burgers," which include mushrooms, onions, swiss cheese, garlic aioli, and lots of Worcestershire sauce, so I made us up some. They were delicious. Plus we opened one of our really good bottles of wine from last fall's trip to the Pacific Northwest (a Cabernet Sauvignon from Sigillo Cellars in Snoqualmie). And she got a couple of nice gifts from some old fellow.

Me, I headed out bright and early for Danville, VA, to set up a couple of new geocaches — a Virtual and an Adventure Lab — in the Historic River District. While I was setting up the cache stages, I happened upon someone's bank card lying in the grass in one of the small park areas, so, in keeping with the theme of rescuing things, which seems to have been my lot lately, I rescued the card and promptly went out and had sushi at Tokyo Grill. (Yeah, the bank was right there, so I did turn in the errant card first, heh heh.)

Anyway, a nice day all around for both of us. Yet another step in the walk to Last Day. Till the next one...

A few random sites around the River District in Danville:

Eldredge, the Red Elephant, which occupies the shell of the old Eldredge's Drugstore on Craghead Street

The old Pepsi Cola Bottling Co. building

Left: restored old water tower; Right: Hidden door in a haunted corner of the River District

Entrance to the old Worsham Street Bridge

Another Milestone on That Long, Winding Road to Last Day

YESTERDAY: Another birthday, another day closer to death, blah-blah-blah. This is my first month on Medicare, so that's how many of these milestones I've passed on the long and winding road. Don't get me wrong, I'm grateful for every second that I still inhabit this planet; milestones just don't seem to mean what they used to. The main reason I even remembered this one was because I needed to make sure I changed all my old medical insurance information over to the new.

It was a mellow birthday, to be sure. I began the day with my usual long walk around the neighborhood. I've managed to put in at least three miles a day without missing a single one since early January, and, before that, missed days were few and far between. It's definitely made a difference in my physical strength and stamina, and, given the abundance of steep hills in this area, I expect the cardiac workout has been good for keeping the ticker on a healthy track. I could probably stand to focus on a more healthful diet, but at the same time, it could be lot worse. I've got a regular physical checkup coming up soon, so I'm hoping my doctor will give me a smile rather than a frown.

Ms. Brugger made me one of her classic birthday cards (see above) and, come dinnertime, treated me to one of my favorite desserts ever — a mascarpone and Irish cream whipped dessert with bitter cherries, a recipe she got from our friend Yvonne. I was craving Thai chicken & basil for dinner, and since it's one of my mostest favoritest things to make, I up and fixed it myself. Next week, it's Brugger's birthday, so we're going to have a fancier dinner outing tomorrow evening as sort of a joint celebration.

We've been on a WWII movie kick lately, so for our evening theatrical feature, we put on Tora, Tora, Tora, which she hadn't seen, and it's one of my favorite films. The Blu-ray has the extended Japanese cut on it, so we watched that version, which I think I prefer. That carried us pretty late in the evening, so before bedtime, I finished listening to the audiobook of Gateways by F. Paul Wilson, as I've been on a Repairman Jack binge lately. Paul has had some serious health issues, but I heard from him the other day, and it sounds like he's on the upswing. I very much hope so.

I received a ton of very nice birthday wishes from friends both online and in person, and every last one is deeply appreciated. Perhaps I can continue plaguing you with my existence for a long time to come. (Evil laughter...)

Laters, all!

My infamous Thermonuclear Thai Chicken with Basil

Ms. B.'s mascarpone & Irish cream with bitter cherries. Heavenly!

Yours Sincerely, Wasting Away

I guess you could call it a landmark birthday, basically by way of a Beatles song. That look of the dude in the photo is when your body turns 64 but the rest of you is something like half that. That's the lord's truth.

It was a pretty pleasant day, which helped blunt some of the stress I bitched, moaned, and whinged about about in my previous blog entry. Geocaching on my birthday is a longstanding tradition, so I headed solo over Burlington way to pick up an even ten that have been lurking over there for a little while now. Some of them were considerably more than a walk in the park, so I had a nice time of it. On a somewhat sad note, my old friend and longtime geocaching partner Old Rob is more than a little under the weather, and it has the potential to remain an issue for some time to come. I'm sending out every good wish for him, and I hope you will too, whether you know him or not. He's several years older than I, but I remember like it was yesterday when he turned 64 and placed a geocache titled after that same Beatles song. I believe it's still out there in the wild, so it's almost tempting — almost, I say — to revisit it for old times' sake. I've been revisiting quite a few older caches lately, some of my own to perform maintenance, and some others just for the sake of hiking.

After Brugger got off work the afternoon, we ventured over to State Street Wine Company for a few celebratory drinks. It's become one of our primary go-to establishments since it's so close to home and the folks there are very personable. Rather than go out to dinner (we have dining-out plans with friends Terry & Beth and Joe & Suzy on tomorrow night), Brugger and I made Thai spring rolls, which was my dinner request. They were awesome.

All in all, a mellow day, and under the circumstances, that was just what the doctor ordered. We'll see how it goes in the coming days and weeks. Peace out.

A Perfect Storm

A much-needed evening oasis at friend Samaire’s place

Sigh. I was going to sit here and elaborate on how stressful and even traumatic some of the snowballing issues that have beset Brugger and me over the past month or so have been (I did, in fact, compose a considerable number of words on the subject). I deleted the bulk of them because it all began to sound like a great big whine. Still, I can’t help it; here is a bit of that post, abridged.

For me, April has historically been the worst month in existence, since it’s in April that I lost my dad, more good friends than the law ought to allow, and the majority of my many beloved pets. Beyond that, it’s in April that the universe, with perverse glee, releases the storm of misfortune it has saved up for us over the course of the preceding year with a great big “BLAM!”

This year, the horrendous sewer line issues that hit us, beginning in March (of which some of you are at least aware, since I did whine a bit), seemed to set off a veritable freight train of new and damn near catastrophically expensive issues.

However, as I wrote this little treatise, it all began to sound like a big whine. Now, on occasion (sometimes on frequent occasions), I have been known to vent. Anyone who has heard me vent will almost certainly testify that, to the chronic pessimist, my vent is a thing of rare beauty. Conversely, to the blissful live-for-today-first-world-problems-mean-naught-zen-is-good kind of soul (or simply the uninitiated), more a display of explosive horror (or perhaps amusement, in the way that a spectacular self-inflicted injury can make one chuckle). All that said, there is little more I hate than coming across as a fucking crybaby. Life can be a goddamn bitch, and I know damn well that many, MANY folks would trade places with me in an instant. I’m not without some degree of self-awareness.

Still, in the spirit of my original post, suffice it to say that I’m gonna call this April a pilgrimage to the summit of Fuck-This-Goddamn-Motherfucking-Bullshit-Fucking-What-the-Fuckity-Fuck Mountain. To the more level-headed, even-tempered souls among you (however deluded you might be), this was a mere uptick in the severity of pretty-damned-severe first-world problems.

There were good things. In fact, many good things. Most recently, Scares That Care AuthorCon II was one of the best events ever, as far as affirming my life choices as a writer. Similarly, Shortwave Publishing announced what I feel is one of the most important creative projects I’ve overseen, the next chapter in the history of Deathrealm, a brainchild of mine from almost four decades ago. I sold a couple of short stories. And this April saw some lovely times with good, GOOD friends, which helped me realign my sights on what’s really important.

Well, okay, yeah, I’ve still whined (and I’ll do it again, maybe soon). But this one is fucking done. At least April is, until next year, history.

Rainey’s Orange Cat Wine Bar

In the Better-Late-Than-Never Department: Brugger’s birthday present to me finally arrived. Best present ever, really. I reckon this will be displayed prominently somewhere around the house.

Some Week!

Today is Brugger’s birthday — which we celebrated at Fleming’s Steakhouse & Wine Bar this past week with friends Stephen and Samaire — and it kind of snuck up on me that it’s also Mother’s Day. Above, you see Mum holding Phred, guarded by a weird little cowpoke, circa 1964. Hard to believe that, of the family I grew up with, I am the last survivor. Never would I have believed such a thing. This week, I’ve reflected a lot on a sometimes tumultuous but essentially rich life. I miss my mom, my dad, and my brother more than words can ever express.

Although, overall, this week hardly seemed much out of the ordinary, it offered a number of unprecedented and/or unusual moments. We began the week with my birthday. Sixty-two great big ’uns, that’s how many of these particular days I have weathered. For my birthday, I bought myself a Godzilla figure — something I’ve done only once in the past four decades. It seemed the thing to do at the time. So, in the same spirit, for Brugger’s birthday, I bought myself a MechaGodzilla (Kiryu) figure. Lord knows, I can’t afford for this kind of thing to become a habit, but at least the MechaGodzilla was pretty much free, due to having all kinds of bonus points to spend at Amazon.com.

Early in the week, a young gray fox came around to visit. I have, on occasion, encountered foxes in the wild, but never one around these parts. It was a lovely critter to see, yet I fear it came over to my yard because the fuckers down the way are cutting down all the woods to make way for yet another goddamn superfluous subdivision. I’m so sick of these shitheads cutting down every inch of green space in this town I could fucking spit. It’s ugly, harmful, disgraceful. You might be forgiven for believing I hold strong opinions on this subject.

On a far more intriguing note, last night, Brugger and I spent a most enjoyable evening at the home of our friends (and geocaching buddies) Tom (a.k.a. Skyhawk63) and Linda (a.k.a. Punkins19). We did, believe it or not, partake of some wine, and our hosts provided a superb kabob dinner, followed by (fresh) strawberry shortcake and an intriguing dessert wine. We had kicked back to relax around their newly built firepit when Linda noticed an unknown phenomenon in the sky: a seemingly endless train of lights in the sky, moving at high speed directly above our heads. At first, we though perhaps it was the wreckage of the Chinese rocket that had been predicted to crash to earth last night; these objects, however, appeared far too uniform and perfectly spaced to be wreckage. And soon, we noticed a perpendicular stream of lights farther south. Brugger immediately took to Google, and we discovered this was almost certainly SpaceX’s StarLink satellite train. Now, I tend to keep up with most such technological developments, but I confess that this one had completely eluded my attention. None of us had any inkling about the existence of such a thing. I found it a bit disappointing that this was not the long-awaited Martian invasion, but then, the odds against anything coming from Mars are a million to one, as the quote goes. Unfortunately, the video I took provided only a black sky and a lot of slightly alcohol-slurred exclamations from the group of eyewitnesses. Similarly, my photos (example above) convey the spectacle only slightly. Regardless, it was an unexpected and, at the time, exciting experience for the lot of us.

Comparatively, it may be far more prosaic, but the house renovation continues to progress slowly but surely. Early in the week, we had the downstairs rooms measured for new flooring and the deck stained, the latter courtesy of Carlos’ Paint Company (the same folks who did a bang-up job on our living room). I’ve put in several evenings on various interior projects, and Brugger and I worked most of the day yesterday, she prepping the downstairs bathroom for painting, I painting doors and trim and putting up new blinds.

Now, I can only hope my houseful of giant monsters don’t get loose and undo the labor and expense Brugger and I have put into all this.

I barely managed to touch Georgia: The Haunting of Tate’s Mill, my Ameri-Scares novel-in-progress, but I hope to get more time in on it this week. There’s still a mess of estate business to deal with too, so we shall see what we shall see. And that, I reckon, is that.

Freshly painted doors in the living room

Downstairs bathroom, walls stripped of wallpaper, ceiling blessedly bereft of popcorn,
mirror removed (so now it looks really tiny in there) 

Bethania Birthday

Bewilderbeest, Fishdownthestair, Old Rob,
Diefenbaker at “Goliath”

Today was this old man’s birthday, and as birthdays go, it proved right enjoyable. The entire weekend, though, whirled through so fast and hard it barely registered on my radar. Ms. B. missed the lot of it, for she was gone on a crafting retreat in Georgia. Poor thing, that Ms. B.

Friday after work, I headed to the old homestead in Martinsville, where I hosted a relatively mellow evening with friends/fellow writers Stephen Provost & Samaire Wynne. We sat out on the back deck with tiki torches burning, enjoying wine and snacks, until fairly late in the evening. On Saturday, I went straight down to Winston-Salem, where I spent most of the day cleaning out my brother’s house (now technically mine) in preparation to get it on the market as soon as it’s possible. That was a long, ugly job, but with ample help from Phred’s friend/executor Jane and my friends Terry & Beth, we emptied it of the vast majority of its contents. I did manage to snag a couple of geocaches for good measure.

Once back home, I found my former next-door neighbors Paul & Jamie hard at work on their house as they prepare it to be listed for sale soon as well. We partook of some fine beverages and, a bit later, ordered Mexican food from Luna’s, which we enjoyed on my front porch.

This morning, I met friends Old Rob (a.k.a. Old Rob), Diefenbaker (a.k.a. Scott), Fishdownthestair (a.k.a. Natalie), and Cupdaisy (a.k.a. Debbie, a.k.a. Bewilderbeest) in Historic Bethania, just north of Winston-Salem, for a day of the rigorous hiking and geocaching. We found some fun ones, didn’t find a frustrating one, met a friendly snake, and enjoyed a late lunch (a damned fine burger for me) at The Village Tavern in Reynolda Village. One cache, which turned out to be our favorite of the day, led us to what is surely the most massive (if not the tallest) sycamore tree I believe I have ever seen. And a big old thing it is, with numerous trunks, perched right on the edge of Muddy Creek. We clambered all over that thing, taking in the various views. Of course, we signed the cache log.

After caching, I had to make a last stop (for now...) at Phred’s house to grab a few things that wouldn’t fit in my car yesterday. I didn’t collapse from exhaustion when I got home, but I came about close as one might care to. I reckon that’s what happens when you are no longer on the younger side of old.

Rounding out the nice birthday, I received payment for a short story coming up in a new anthology from Dark Regions, and a contract for another one recently accepted for publication in another upcoming book. I will offer up a big “yay!” for both these things.

I sleep now.

Ermengarde the Snake, named after a character played by Shoffner in a theatrical show some years ago.

Meeting of the half-minds (Natalie, Old Rob, Scott, Bewilderbeest)

 
L) Looking up at one of Goliath's many trunks; R) view of Muddy Creek from Goliath

Another Decade Down

And... whoosh! There go the fifties. Age-wise, I mean. Overall, it was a fine enough decade for this old man, very possibly the most eventful of my adult life. Above and beyond all else, for most of these past ten years, Ms. B., the nice lady pictured above, has been my partner in crime, and all indications are that we're bound for that great big house in the sky, or wherever, still bound together, somewhere in that unforeseeable (and hopefully distant) future. Apart from my mom's ongoing health issues and a slight decrease in this old machine's agility, life has held itself together as well as could be expected, sometimes even better. Or not. Maybe. Sort of.

As for the birthday event itself—yesterday—it was fair enough. I didn't take the day off from work to go geocaching, as has generally been my custom since I began the activity (at age 49; who'd have thunk I might have been at it so long?). Since Ms. B. and I are saving up our vacation time for an extended holiday down the road, it didn't seem prudent to blow a day off that I might need later. However, after work on Wednesday, I met friends Robgso (a.k.a. Old Rob) and Skyhawk63 (a.k.a. Tom) and snagged a nice first-to-find on a new puzzle cache in north Greensboro. And for afters, Skyhawk and I met his wife, Punkins19 (a.k.a. Linda) at a brewery/beer joint called Gibbs Hundred, which I had never previously visited—or even heard of, for that matter. But as one who rarely drinks beer anymore, I enjoyed it immensely, particularly since friend Tom was kind enough to spring for mine as a birthday treat. Chalk up another one for getting old, I reckon.

Last night, Ms. B. took me out for drinks at Gia: Drink, Eat, Listen, one of our favorite dining/drinking establishments. For dinner, we hobbled next door to Imperial Koi for sushi, which I quite loved. Once back at her place, we watched The Silence, a new Netflix release based on a novel by Tim Lebbon. It was fair, at best. It lacked development and character motivation, which I more than half suspect the novel does not. At any rate, the evening offered some much-needed relaxation, which was most welcome as I've been dealing with an ongoing issue with my mom's daily care—which, to my dismay, is still not sorted out.

At least the celebrations for these little landmarks make for pleasant times and nice memories. There's certainly no excitement about yet another measurable tick on the lifeclock. I confess I'm a little sad to leave my 50th decade behind, as it provided most of the absolute best experiences of my adult life. Some of the worst, too, but at least those don't overshadow the good. Not by a long shot.

And off we go, to take another step in the walk of the unknown. Until next time, I'm your host, Damned Rodan, saying....

Another Day Closer to Death, and All That

Tuesday, another birthday came and went, a 57th revolution around the sun finished up, and the old man moved day closer to death. I think I yelled at some kids to get off my lawn, but I don't remember too well. For the first time since I started geocaching in 2008, I didn't take my birthday off to go caching because I was sick last week and missed a bunch of time from work. But Night-hawk (a.k.a. Tom) put out some new ones up at Bryan Park North, not far from here, one of which was in honor of my birthday, so that was cool. I'll go find it this weekend.

All things considered, it was a decent birthday. I went to work and people did some happy birthday things for me, and then Ms. Brugger took me out for treats: Wine Styles for wine and Fleming's for dinner. Fleming's is the about the best not-at-all-cheap place to eat around here, so it's always good when someone else takes you there for a special occasion. I had fried oysters, the best dead raw cow (a.k.a. carpaccio) in the world, some kick-ass roasted asparagus, and carrot cake that rivals Fern Brugger's. (Most of you have not had Kimberly's mom's carrot cake, and thus you might as well have never eaten. Trust me on this.) I've had carpaccio at other places, but Fleming's is the best, served with basil, lemon, black pepper, capers, red onion, and creole mustard sauce on crostini. Even Ms. B., who cares little for beef, finds this stuff irresistible.

Afterward, she was kind enough to give me some loverly presents, and then we watched Lost Highway, one of my favorite David Lynch movies. Then I was tired because I had gotten a year older overnight. Then I got up the next morning and went to work.

I suppose if fortune smiles, or makes fun of me, I'll be around about this time next year. That would be better than, well, other things.

Flemings' beef carpaccio — surely the best raw dead cow to be found anywhere

Time Keeps on Slippin'...

Yeah, this past week was my birthday, and this coming week is Ms. Kimberly's birthday. I just had my previous birthday a few days before, so I really can't figure what's up with that. But since these things somehow keep coming around again, we figured we'd make the best of them and do a bunch of celebratory stuff. Most of my birthday festivities went on last weekend, but on Friday night, I got a little bonus celebration going caching around Greensboro with my old friend Beth "Bogturtle" Walton and Debbie "Cupdaisy" Shoffner. It had been at least two or three years since I'd seen Beth, who lives in Florida these days, so it was great catching up, signing logs, and making a stop at one of our local cache bars afterward.

Yesterday, Ms. B. and I headed to Chapel Hill to hit a few of our preferred destinations for shopping and entertainment (and for me to find a few geocaches). We took the scenic route through Hillsborough to have lunch at Hillsborough BBQ Company (in my experience, their beef brisket is second only to Blues BBQ Company's in Roanoke); then, after going walkies around Chapel Hill and grabbing a handful of caches, we each suffered through a glass of delicious wine at the Weathervane bar at A Southern Season; we checked out West End Wine Bar in downtown Chapel Hill, of which we both approved mightily; and finally, we had dinner at Thai Palace, where the fare has been consistently excellent for us. Once back at Ms. B.'s, we watched Cold Mountain, which I had never seen, and, in general, I quite liked it. A bit overlong, but for the most part engaging.

After gorging myself on way too much, way-too-delicious food yesterday, I ended up not eating much of anything today — go figure — and getting in enough exercise to burn off at least the cole slaw from Hillsborough and all but wipe me out for the evening. I spent the better part of the day on the trails at Bryan Park North, hiding a new series of caches inspired by The Walking Dead, and things couldn't have worked out much better. I discovered a few prime locations in the woods, put in several miles of strenuous hiking (plus a bit of running when it looked like rain was going to set in), and undertook a physically taxing and moderately perilous tree climb. There are four caches in the series, which I call "Terminus," after the storyline in TV series, and I think I'm pleased with the results. Those who hunt and find the hides will be the final arbiter of their quality. They should publish in the next day or two.

And for this coming week, it's back to the salt mines.

Searched long and hard and couldn't find that cache.

Enjoyed running into a few local young geocachers in Chapel Hill

One of the intriguing fixtures I discovered in the woods while setting up "Terminus."

Near the final location of "Terminus." A scary cache!