One week ago today, thirty or so very good friends and family gathered at The Linkery in San Diego to celebrate Randy’s 50th birthday. The people at The Linkery outdid themselves with great service and great food, and while the Big Five-Oh is easy to poke fun at (and there was a ceremonial presentation of Spinner’s first AARP card), the rapidly-marching-to-death jokes were kept to a minimum, and as far as I could tell a great time was had by all.

Very early the next morning we left Diego and the Great Basil Forest in the care of a wonderful housesitter, and set off for Hawai’i.

In hindsight we’d redo the itinerary. It seems ridiculous in hindsight to fly 21 minutes from San Diego to LAX, then sit on some very uncomfortable seats at LAX draining the batteries on various portable devices for three hours until our flight to Kona. We could’ve driven to LAX in less than two hours, and still left home at least 90 minutes later than we did. Fool me once, shame on you, fool me twice… As for Delta – I know it’s been a long time since I’ve done anything but a hop from here to the Bay Area, but $25 to check a bag and no food except a bag of peanuts on a five-hour flight? Ohmygawd you’re cheap bastards and you’ll get no linkey-love here.

Once we got off the flying metal deathtrap though, life was renewed. I suppose for Randy it was like how Logan’s spin through carousel should’ve been. Hours of people reminding you of approaching mortality, more hours trapped immobilized in a sealed metal tube, then whoosh…PARADISE!

In our first two hours on the Big Island we swam in the ocean, swam in the resort’s pool, then had mango daquiris and kalua pork quesadillas at the hotel’s poolside bar.

Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday: we shopped, we ate, we swam, we bodysurfed, we paddleboarded.  Lots of details in the photo captions over at Vista.

Yes, I got injured a couple of times, but it was all still absolutely worth it.  I got stung by a jellyfish or something, but I got stung swimming the water portion of the Ironman course in Kona.  I beat up my ankles on some silly rocks, but I did it body surfing at Magic Sands on the Big Island.   I suppose I should mention the dead brain cells from several rounds of Mai Tais too, but that doesn’t sound nearly as butch as the swimming and bodysurfing.  Would it help if I said they were flaming Mai Tais?

We visited palaces and churches and archeological sites and generally behaved like gawking tourists we were.  Spent lots of time sitting on the seawall just watching local life: the triathletes and open-water swimmers, the locals playing, the outrigger canoe clubs, the birds and crabs doing their things.

We had a great time.  The vacation was way too short.  Probably wouldn’t have come back but for the grim realities of modern life spelled out by Quicken, even given my responsibilities to appear in court this Tuesday.

The flight home was relatively uneventful: same tin-can of death, same lousy service, still no love for Delta.  Diego not only survived, but seemed much better after five days with the housesitter than he’s ever seemed after any time at all in the kennel.  The Great Basil Forest is thriving.  After 36 hours the mountain of laundry finally seems surmountable.  I’m back and I accept it, happy or not.

All the good holidays get seasons, so I’m happily and guiltlessly extending my birthday into a season this year.

Yesterday Randy rode the Flightline zip line at the Wild Animal Park.  I got a couple of photos of the preparations, but nothing from the ride itself.  My hands were too busy to work the Canon and the wind grabbed my helmet cam right after launch and repointed it at the sky.  Still the experience was a complete blast, and we broke down and bought the photos of the day taken by the zoo’s photographer.  Randy put some of those up on Facebook, and some more might make there way over here in the next few days.

I spent today with some overdue humiliation and exercise.  Swimming alone has been good for me, both physically and with the meditative aspects.  I’ve been feeling a bit stagnant lately and kinda hitting a wall, and have been looking for a way to avoid my tendency to become complacent.  Spent the morning getting beaten up and feeling old at a coached workout with a local masters swim team, Different Strokes.  Had a great time and should join if I can prove to myself I can commit to their schedule.

The birthday season is scheduled to wrap up with a grand finale Thursday evening at a showing of Cirque du Soleil’s Kooza at the Del Mar Fairgrounds.  The tickets were generously funded by my parents’ birthday check, and thus makes the perfect finale to this year’s Season of Chuckie.

His birthday isn’t until Wednesday, but we had a great lunch and some cake today to celebrate. Happy __st Birthday Dad!

Somehow I never got around to making coffee yesterday.  In an absolute shocker I”m here today, and moderately functional, so I’m trying it again, this time intentionally.  

I doubt I’ll make it through the week  without my chemical crutch –  this one’s just too busy.  Volunteering at Spinner’s school, turning 45, letting BorgHealth send electricity  through my nervous system while the State Supreme Court debates my marriage,  then jetting up to San Jose for a weekend of blissful nothing at the Fairmont.

It might be busy, but at least I should be fully diagnosed, if not feeling better, when next Sunday rolls around.

Yep, I’m 44 now.  Three days of being taken out for food and opening cards have come to an end, and I have to accept the date on the calendar.

Spent yesterday morning at the zoo, where I watched this bear for a while.  He seems to be summing up how I’m feeling today.  I’m so over this.  Not the birthday celebration stuff – that was great.  The other stuff.  The running a law practice in a recession stuff.  The old age pains and injuries stuff.  That kind of stuff.

The HOA (or whatever they are for the condo) sent a bunch of worker drones by to start my 44th birthday off by killing the tree outside my office window.  Chopped and mulched for a better tomorrow.  I guess I needed a better view of the power transformers.  Or maybe just a reminder that when you grow old there will always be young punks around to tear you down.

Go wish a Happy Birthday to Nala.

I’d love to be posting something political about the court’s decision to force Jose Padilla to be either charged or released, or maybe some insightful but slightly paranoid rant about the coincidence of a new bin Laden threat being announced on the same day as that ruling.

But really, while truth, justice and the ‘merican way are all muy high on my list, the only thing I’m really caring about right now is getting out of town for a three-day SoCal birthday roadtrip. Me, Pongo and the iPod’s roadtrip playlist blaring through Nissantruck’s stereo. Getting the left arm all tan and letting Pongo pretend he’s flying as we celebrate my 41st. If you’re interested in joining us and will be in the Palm Springs area this weekend, have your girl call our girl. Attorney-client privilege will be extended to all birthday related debauchery proceedings.

We were planning to go out to the desert and decompress a bit this weekend. Me and Pongo – no phone, no internet, some sun and fresh air. Unfortunately, because the cubedwellers got the after-hours pager rotation schedule out late, I tried to make reservations late, and now Riverside County Fair attendees seem to have taken all the rooms in Palm Springs.

Maybe we’ll go up the coast instead. Or maybe we’ll just save money until my birthday in March and go then. Getting older again (41 this time). Maybe someone will hang out poolside with me for a couple of days and make me feel young again. That would be a good birthday gift.

But in a day of wierd news seemingly designed to increase anxiety levels, things like Crazy Korean Kids with Big Bombs and the theft of what little privacy I have left after nearly four years blogging, there was goodness. A possible vaccine for prostate cancer. Well, that and a pint of Macademia Brittle. Life is good.