The no life crisis, is a horror which afflicts old bar flies who decide to have children late in life . . .

40-something, shattered and thirsty? Welcome to your No Life Crisis

​. . . no life indeed.

More below!

Maddog was first introduce to this level 11 inanity when he first went to college. His first roommate, Bob Gotting was a great guy, but seemed to be a bing drinker who would drink a case of beer, and guzzle a bottle of cheap wine every third weekend or so. He was constantly lobbying Maddog to join, and I did, although I never had a taste for it. By the end of the first year, I pretty much cut out booze, and returned to weekend ski trips, hikes, backpacking, kayak trips, and anything to keep from having to be anchored to a bar for a long boring night of drinking.

Frankly, anyone over 40 with a young child pining to be anchored to a bar so he can "drink his fill," is a pathetic canker on the ass of humanity. 

Break the bonds of what should be called the loser life crisis, get outside, coach your child in a sport, teach the little sprat to ski, waterski, wakeboard, kayak, canoe, hike, backpack, mountain bike, or any thing else which strikes the mind. And, no, just because the kid is small means nothing.

Maddog, and wife, did everything with the kids. From the very youngest ages they went waterskiing, snow skiing, and pretty much everything else right along with us. Occasionally, that meant changing what we did, but so be it. When our sprats were very young, and we would snow ski, wife would ski for 4 hours or so while Maddog took the kid(s) and dog for a long snowshoe trek, or cross country ski trek. Then we would trade places and Maddog would get to ski, while she snowshoed, and skinny skied. We stayed in a motorhome at the mountain so we could spend the evening romping and playing in the snow, have dinner, and watch a family movie. There was nowhere to go, so we had to spend quality time together. And the motorhome bar did open as soon as Maddog began dinner prep. But the night was not about drinking, or an alcohol soused nostalgia/glory days bender. The night was about family, friends, food, a movie, and preparing the skis for the morning. Sometimes we took friends, and sometimes we found them on the mountain and invited them for dinner. It was always a blast.

Every season had an activity or many, and nearly every weekend was filled with the activity. We snow skied 20-30 days per year, waterskied/wakeboarded 100+, kayaked, canoed, camped, and hiked till we were either tired or needed a few weeks to repair equipment. 

This is how the Maddog family lived life, everyone together, pretty much all the time, friends invited, food, and, yes, wine flowing. Real life.

For years the only time Maddog was trapped, anchored to a bar, was when the local lung, heart, or other charity ball required his presence. It was a sacrifice made for a good cause, and accepted as such.

Live a real life, not that of a bar fly.