Caged In

Caged

The heavens await
I continue my journey
Up I go
One step after another
Up I go


I step into the light
I look about
Thick cables above my head
And on each side

The world unfolds all around me
Beauty and fear hand in hand
I wonder and wonder ...
Will I be trapped in the heavens?

The heavens must wait
I have more to experience on my journey
Down I go
One step after another
Down I go

The Newcomers' Club

Okay, so I'm still giggling about it. Nope, not the latest Internet joke, just a letter I received on Wednesday.

My chuckling started when I noticed the envelope was addressed to Ms. Dornacher. During my last visit to the bathroom I was sure nothing had changed. Out of curiosity, I opened the envelop and slipped out the contents.

Much to my amusement, I pulled out The Newcomers' Club of Lake Bluff and Lake Forest brochure. On the front, under a pineapple picture, I found this little ditty: "The pineapple, our club's symbol, has long been a sign to sailors and other travelers that they have found a safe and hospitable place to stay. Your life's journey has brought you to a new community: know that you have found a welcoming haven in the Newcomers' Club."

With a mischievous grin, I pictured the neighbor housewives welcoming a few sailors in training from the nearby Naval base. With that image in my head, I read on. My jaw dropped, not because this was some wild suburban swingers club. Egad, it became alarming clear this was a housewife social club.

Many would think, what a great opportunity to meet your neighbors and other folks in the community. I'm a bit jaded, yes I admit it, there are a few experiences that have left me jaded. I decided to pass on the opportunity for lunch, tea, bridge, wine tasting and cooking lessons. I don't have a problem meeting and greeting. I'm just afraid the jaded side of my brain might take over and some little ditty will pop out of my mouth I would regret.

Though jaded when it comes to community building, I am the eternal optimist. I keep smiling and saying "hello" to our neighbors. Perhaps I should take up the advice of the Newcomers' Club and hang a pineapple to the front door.

Oh wait, even better, I'll browse through a few cookbooks in search of a pineapple dish. Nothing like inviting the folks over for some good food, plenty of cocktails and a few sailors to break the ice.

New Orleans Revival

I have to say life is beginning to return to normal in New Orleans. After a tour his French Quarter location, the owner of the Hustler strip club is ready to start serving booze and the strippers are ready to strut their stuff. All that is required is electricity to chill the beer and play the music.

More Buddha Belly

I must say, at 30-something, I have a whole lot to be thankful for. You know, all the usual stuff, a fantastic spouse, a decent job, super-fabulous friends, loving family, etc.

I can deal with not moving as fast, slower post-cocktail recovery and a few aches. I even gracefully accepted breaking the 30 inch waist after my 32 birthday.

Reality hit me today and it was far from a love tap on the tush. I can no longer ignore the signs: belly buldge in a tight t-shirt, difficulty with the button on my pants and a pair of meaty thighs. Some would call me an impolite name or two if I mentioned my dilemma in cocktail conversation. After giving me a once over, the response is usually, "What are you complaining about, your too damn skinny."

It's true, I don't have the look of a typical middle-aged guy, I'm just trying to adjust to a slower metabolism. For as long as I can remember, I could eat anything and everything and never gain any weight.

After moving to Atlanta, I began to notice many Southern folks were shaped like pears. Then I noticed my shape shifting. I scrambled to adjust my habits, cutting back on indulgent meals and evening pints of ice cream. Yet, the Buddha Belly continued its growth.

Some nights I toss and turn in bed wondering if there was something in the Atlanta water or worse yet, the air. You know some kind of pear shape growth hormone.

I may respect Buddha and his teachings but today I declared war on the belly! I'm in this for the long haul, doing everything in my power to conquer it. War is hell and only time will tell just how ugly it will get.

During this battle, my mantra is BBG - Belly be Gone!

Excerpt from the Home Run Handbook

Before our dinner guests arrived, I ran to the grocery store Saturday night to grab a forgotten item.

In front of me at the self-checkout lane, an early twenty something guy was clutching his purchases while crossing every available appendage.

I chuckled to myself as he scanned a bunch of flowers, a box of chocolates and a box of condoms. Like a good Boy Scout, he's been reading the handbook and prepared for anything.

Buddha Belly

I am sitting here wondering if my spouse is secretly trying to make me fat. He often reminds me my belly is growing, my ass is drooping and another chin is in the works.

He was late getting home tonight and suggested we grab a bite to eat. I was tired, so there was no argument on my part. In mid-drive, the urge for pizza hits him. Not just any pizza mind you, it has to be a double decker pizza.

I have never heard of a double decker pizza, so I inquire. Double decker pizza = two thin crust pizzas stacked on top of each other. "Holly cow", I mutter, "double the calories and double the fat, just like the Doublemint twins - oh, no wait, they're skinny".

I gave in out of curiosity. After a slice and a half, I was a bit over-cheesed and way bloated. Now, as I rub my newly formed Buddha Belly, I just wonder if he's trying to fatten me up for the slaughter? Sigh, only time will tell.