I went to the doctor yesterday for a routine check up. I had some concerns that amount to, “you’re getting older and all you do is sit in front of a computer.” Those may have been the doc’s exact words, but he’s sending me for tests and gave me a referral to a cardiologist anyway. I figured this was the ideal excuse to get the family to do what I want them to do for a change.

First, I told my son that the doctor said I will have a heart attack if he doesn’t play his guitar. I told my brother that it’s his fault if I die because he sings White Christmas in my ear. The doctor definitely told me that Hubster has to do everything my way or start planing a funeral. My brother said I overplayed my hand with my son and that’s why the guitar never came out of the case. He also said that White Christmas only has powers of joy and healing. Hubster said he’d get to planning my funeral.

This is why I have a daughter. I didn’t have to tell her anything. She played her drums and piano for me, rather than torture me by singing in my ear, she stroked my hair, and so I’m giving her VIP passes to my funeral. My funeral is going to be an SRO disco party and very difficult to get in. Let me know if you’d like for me to add you to the list.

Darling Daughter mentioned to her drum teacher this evening that she learned in Girl Scouts that Stayin’ Alive has the perfect beat for administering CPR and so they practiced it in case I did have a coronary. On the way home from lessons, the kids and I stopped at Sonic for a bite and then drove around with the windows down listening to Technotronic.

When we were done pumping up the jams, I explained to the kids that people used to drive up and down busy “strips” looking for friends. “In those days, you couldn’t just text your whereabouts to everyone,” I said. “It’s called ‘cruising’.”

“We call it wasting gas,” said Sarcastic Son. He had a point, so I turned toward home. As I did so, what song do you imagine came on the radio? I took it as proof that I am stayin’ alive forever like my great grandmothers did.