It’s Spring. Really.

For the past several years, Earl and I have celebrated the Easter holiday by going on our first picnic of the year. We normally make ham sandwiches, bring along some salads, chips and iced tea, and go to a state park to enjoy the springtime sunshine and perhaps walk around a little bit.

Today we woke up to over an inch of snow and temperatures in the mid 20s. While we are both quite adventurous, we really didn’t feel up to a picnic in that sort of weather.

Instead we invited my Mom to the local casino where they were having a wonderful brunch for thousands of their closest friends. We ran into my cousin and her family and chatted with them for a few moments and ended up having a wonderful meal and leaving some of our hard earned money in the process.

I guess Mother Nature isn’t quite ready to bless us with full-time spring yet, as it looks like it’ll be late February like for the next couple of days. Earl thinks our first picnic of the year will be to celebrate Independence Day.

Green On The Horizon.




Green On The Horizon.

Originally uploaded by macwarriorny.

While Earl competed in a poker tournament at Turning Stone Casino today, I decided to drive up to my hometown area and visit with my dad at the family lumber yard and hardware store. It didn’t feel very springlike with temperatures in the low 30s and some interesting snow squalls. I grew up in the heart of the Lake Ontario Snow Belt, and today the area lived up to it’s reputation.

Sooner or later it’ll start acting like spring.

I decided to take the long way home, as I’m inclined to do, and passed through a rather remote region of the area. I discovered that a large wind farm has been built on the Tug Hill Plateau. The Maple Ridge Wind Farm is one of the several wind farms that have recently cropped up here in Upstate New York. These wind farms get a lot of opposition, but I applaud their efforts for harnessing Mother Nature’s gift of the wind for our energy fulfillment purposes.

Nomenclature.




Driving Responsibly.

Originally uploaded by macwarriorny.

I was chatting with a group of my peers on campus the other day when Jennifer, a very outgoing, very likeable young woman asked me a simple question: “Why do you refer to your spouse as your partner instead of your husband? I mean, you wear the wedding rings and all…”

You know, that’s a good question and I told her so. Earl and I know several gay couples that have become legally hitched, however not in New York State because The Empire State isn’t doing that sort of thing yet (though I feel that we’re thisclose to having gay unions legalized). I admire the way our friends Sean and Jeffrey got married – they left the state and country to get hitched in various flavors. I find this to be delightfully interesting.

Anyway, back to Jennifer’s question. Earl and I have always referred to each other as “partners”. Once in a great while I might refer to him as my husbear or husband (it’s very rare and usually when I’m drunk and being hit on in a gay bar, where I point in his direction and say “that’s my huzzzzband” over there in a weird drawl.) We find the term “partner” best describes our relationship, because when we exchanged our vows and rings at our commitment ceremony almost 11 years ago, we took two halves and assembled them into one unionized piece. We are partners in life. When one of us is struggling, we both tow the line; when one of us hurts, the other hurts as well; when one of us is giddy, we both get silly.

Earl and I are not legally wed or unionized. Once same sex marriage/civil unions are ‘allowed’ in New York, we’ll be having one big party, asking our friends and family to join us as we become a legal couple. Will we change what we call each other? No. Will one of us change our last name? Likely. But the partnership started a long time ago.

And that’s what we are. Partners.

The Spice Rack.

Earl and I were suppose to leave to visit his family outside of Philadelphia this morning. Our plan was to head down there until Saturday night, where we would then come home and enjoy our traditional Easter picnic near our home. We use our picnic to officially bring our winter hibernation to a close.

Yesterday morning Earl decided that he needed to work this weekend, so we rearranged our schedules so that we would be in Philly at a later date and he would work on Friday and perhaps a little bit on Saturday.

Imagine my surprise when I turned around in our family room around 11:00 this morning and found him standing there. Luckily for me, he caught me actually cleaning the house, complete with Swiffer accessories and a running vacuum cleaner in hand. This earns me valuable points for a future date.

After finishing the cleaning bit, I told him I had intended on going to the market this afternoon and do some needed food shopping. He offered to take us out to lunch, which I wholeheartedly enjoyed. We then hit Hannafords.

Before I became a full-time student, Earl was the chief cook of our household. The kitchen was his domain, so I kept my mouth shut and helped out by cleaning up behind him, fetching things when asked and occasionally bursting out with a “Cook’s not a ‘tall ‘appy” for comedic purposes. I also accompanied him on the trips to the grocery store, dutifully pushing the cart, helping him select various vegetables and riding the cart like a bucking bronco across the parking lot to the Jeep.

This all changed when I became a full-time student. I took over the cooking duties and therefore I went to the market, solo.

Today he joined me.

I am happy to say that while there was no reprise of the “Great Chip Encounter of 1999″*, we have decidedly opposite ways of grocery shopping. He believes that stores are built backward and produce should be browsed last, as it goes on the top of the cart, I prefer to follow the store somewhat in the order in which it was designed. There were no hostilities exchanged between us, not even close, but there was a bit of tension as I picked up my fresh green beans before strolling by the canned goods and naked chickens.

This slight bit of tension carried through to a little home improvement project I had planned for this afternoon. My father built us a beautiful spice rack for the kitchen as a Christmas gift, and with this being spring and all, I thought we should hang it up. I had a planned all worked out on how to achieve this feat, and like most home improvement projects in our household, Earl did as well. And the two didn’t match.

Now we’re both order givers, not order takers. We both know how to do it and as usual we have two different ways to get to a common goal. In our first house, when it was apparent there was work to do to spruce it up, it was easier just to sell it and buy something newer.

The spice rack needed to be leveled. As I’m yelling “up, up!”, he’s yelling “down, down!”. Of course, I’m talking about one side, he’s talking about the other. While the lingering grocery tension increased a bit and the volume level increased while we were working on this task, I am proud to say that no blue words were bounced, no fingers were flipped and no hammers flew.

And the spice rack now hangs proudly in our kitchen.

The Great Chip Encounter of 1999 is not spoken of in our household, except in the acknowledgement that it happened and shall not happen again.

There’s Still A Job To Do.

I’ve been mentioning to Earl on and off for the past couple of weeks that I was thinking of ramping back considerably on my blogging habits. I don’t know whether it’s a case of finding interests elsewhere or just sheer boredom, but I thought that reading my blog had become as interesting as watching paint dry.

That was until today.

One of my reasons for having a blog is to show the world, through my experiences, a different perspective on life. I don’t really see “the big picture” as many see it. I don’t think I’m even looking at the same wall as most. Sometimes it seems like I’m looking at the back of the big picture. Sometimes it seems I’m out in the bathroom while everyone is gazing at this big picture. Perhaps it’s educational to some that there’s these whacky people out there that look at the world a little differently and maybe any given topic can’t be pigeon-holed into black or white.

In addition, I don’t believe that Earl and I fit the stereotypical image of a gay couple, and by sharing our experiences and viewpoints on here, it shows the world the diversity that exists in this little subculture with sparkles.

Anyway, after a lively sociology class at school today I decided that I need to hang around in the blogosphere a bit and keep doing what I’m doing. Today’s topic in class was “Education and Religion”. We started off by being asked to draw a person, much like they do to screen students for kindergarten. I apparently would have been sent to summer school if I was to attend kindergarten today because I drew a stick figure. I was generous enough to include hair, ears, shoes and a smiley face. I guess I haven’t changed much since kindergarten age, because my kindergarten teacher told my mother that I was learning disabled and should be in special ed because I couldn’t color between the lines. They later decided that I was “beyond” coloring between the lines and had more important things to do. I guess that still applies.

Anyways, the conversations started up during the lecture. I enjoy this class because about half the class (the sleeping half) has pretty much dropped out and now people actually participate. Since returning from spring break I’ve become increasingly participatory in class and today I was running at full tilt.

The 20s-something woman two rows back, the one happily married with four kids, was giving her viewpoint on the separation of church and state in the schools and how it was just awful that there was discussion about taking the Pledge of Allegiance out of the schools because of the words “under God”. Several of our classmates agreed with her, saying that our Founding Fathers put “under God” in the Pledge of Allegiance for a reason.

“Whammy! Thanks for playing, here’s your lifetime supply of bleach.”

Before the instructor had a chance to jump in, she looked at me, smiling knowingly as she read the expression on my face as I said, “Actually, the Pledge of Allegiance wasn’t around until 1892 and the ‘under God’ part wasn’t added until 1952. I think the Founding Fathers were long dead by then.” I don’t know what it is about adding a little zinger to the end of my arguments. Perhaps too much Golden Girls or something.

“Well I don’t know why people have to come into our country and force us to endure their religious beliefs. This is a Christian nation.”, another student said.

“I’m sure the Native Americans loved us forcing Christianity upon them when we arrived in North America”, was my reply.

I guess I was a little worked up today.

The discussion continued, including my defense of people who need to take time off from their jobs for religious purposes (Jewish holidays, Pagan celebrations, etc) and how they shouldn’t have to bring in a note from the coven. I think the Pagan part spooked some.

Perhaps I should wear all black on Tuesday or something.

Anyway, the paint has finally dried and I’m still here.

* addendum, I was wrong in class, “under God” was added in 1954 per Wikipedia.

New Toy.




New Toy.

Originally uploaded by macwarriorny.

Our new toy from Apple arrived today. I have to wait until Earl is done watching television to hook it up, but I’m ready to be watching some AppleTV.

I think you’ll be able to see some sparks fly off the iTunes account soon.

Here I’m doing my best Anitra Ford. Ten points to anyone that can name her superhero connection.

Not Even Halfway.

Today I came to the realization that I’m not even halfway through my life yet. I fully intend on reaching that century mark and I’m well under that dreaded “50”, heck, I’m not even touching 40 yet. Nevertheless, I think I’ve been having a midlife crisis of sort over the past month or so, hence the intense working out I’ve been doing (and subsequent weight loss and muscle gain, whoo hoo!) and the change in my appearance a bit. I figure I’ve got the rest of my life to cruise through drive thru restaurants, watch television and be lazy, so for now I’ll eat healthy, workout, be active and embrace my 38 years of age by feeling young.

It may sound like I’m feeling down in the dumps. Quite the contrary; I actually feel great. I guess I’m eager for spring weather to return, as the temperature fell 25 degrees today and it’s been raining to the point of flood warnings again. Maybe I need to get out on my bike and ride to Binghamton and back or something (200 mile round trip).

Too bad my road bike doesn’t have water skiis on it.

You Decide.

You, the people get to vote.

1. You’ve got the cutest little baby-face! Stay that way!

2. Grow the mustache and keep it!

Sing Along.

I certainly miss the days of decent television show opening themes. This is one of the best, EVER! I’m inviting everyone to sing along with the song that has been going through my head today.

Sounds Like Spring.

This morning I was awoken by the sounds of an approaching thunderstorm. At first I panicked as I remembered a dream for two nights ago where everyone around me that was holding a cell phone was getting struck by lightning, but then I was thrilled with the prospect of a a thunderstorm. I sat up in bed, hoping to catch a glimpse of some wild lightning flashes. I was not disappointed.

The arrival of Nature’s light and sound show means that spring is here.

I’m currently doing some homework at the kitchen table. Looking over the deck I’m watching fighter pilots (from the closed air base?) practice maneuvers over the countryside. In the distance I just heard the sound of a train go by on the “seasonal” railroad tracks that head up into the Adirondacks.

Most importantly, when I step outside I hear birds singing. Mother Nature may dust us with snow at the end of the week (which won’t be a big deal), but it is definitely spring.

Yippee!