Homer invited us to a surprise birthday party for his partner Matt. It was a fun little gathering with vegetarian pizza and a delicious homemade birthday cake. They had been to the house the night before for St. Patrick’s Day and Homer brought Irish Soda Bread. Homer is an enjoyable baker.
Homer and Matt have made us feel quite over our nearly first year here in Tucson and I’m very happy to call them both friends.
At the surprise birthday party I was particularly amused with his selection of napkins for the occasion.
A decade or so ago I mentioned to my friend David, who is five days older than me, that I wasn’t afraid of dying but I wasn’t looking forward to aging. I wasn’t ready to accept life as a middle aged man, I didn’t want to have to wear glasses all the time, and I wasn’t ready to go completely gray (not that there’s a lot to go gray anyways).
Here we are over 10 years later and I’m a middle aged man. I’m surviving this just fine. With middle age comes accomplishment and hopefully some wisdom and I feel like I’ve settled pretty well into the role.
I’m flying airplanes with relative ease. I can manage a decent hike with friends. I still can ride my bicycle, and I don’t need vitameatavegamin to stop from pooping out at parties. Sure, I go to bed early when I have to get up early for work. I really don’t like whatever tries to pass as “Popular Music” these days (it all sounds like uninspired, metallic robot noises to me) and I’m losing patience with folks much younger than me that speak with authority on “history” with a remarkable amount of inaccuracy and then want to argue the point even though I was there and they weren’t even born yet.
As a middle aged American man I believe I’ve seen the modern United States as we know it peak about 20 years ago and start to wane. My husband and I have been debating this a little bit. I’ve seen polarization like I’ve never seen before and even family members talk about things, often from very different points of view, in ways we would have never dreamed of discussing a few decades ago.
I take medication to keep important blood test results in check, I proudly wear glasses, and yes, I’ve accepted my gray hair enough to grow my mustache back and feel comfortable with it. I have wrinkles around the eyes, probably from too much smiling over the decades, and my voice is not quite as youthful as it was when I was in Top 40 radio 30 years ago.
And I’m OK with all of this.
Life feels like it’s moving faster and faster. I still don’t feel like a grown up, but I feel like I at least I look the part. I feel absolutely no impulse to change the natural aging process of my body; what you see is what you get. And for the first time in my life, ever, I am comfortable with the way I look.
Truman has been such a good sport about the new puppies in the house, I thought he deserved an extra Caturday post on his behalf.
As I’ve mentioned before, Truman isn’t a cuddler. He doesn’t want to lay on my chest, he doesn’t want to snuggle in between Earl and me for our nighttime slumber, he wants to be close but we can’t cuddle. He’s not even super excited about being held for more than 60 seconds.
However, he does show his love by stationing himself near us at any given time of the day. When I’m working and Earl is doing chores around our bedroom suite or elsewhere in the house, Truman stations himself to keep an eye on everything. When I go to bed at night, he has designed a spot in my closet as his sleeping area. I don’t know how long he stays there as I usually fall asleep and make it through most of the night. But he’ll get himself situated next to the pillow I’ve thrown down there for him and look in my direction until I fall asleep. The photo looks incredibly bright but the lights were actually quite dim; we can thank Apple for the enhancement of the photo.
It’s comforting to know that my feline friend cares enough to make sure I’m well situated for a good night’s sleep.
Truman is relaxing in front of one of the windows in our bedroom keeping an eye on the local wildlife. His casual approach to observation has extended to the puppies as well; there’s been no hisses or signs of aggression, just a few rumbly growls worthy of a male cat.
I’ve been watching “Bewitched” for as long as I can remember. It’s probably still my favorite show of all time and if I had to choose a favorite era from the show, it’s the first season when Samantha and Darrin were still in the honeymoon phase.
Samantha’s cousin Serena, also played by Elizabeth Montgomery but billed as “Pandora Spocks” in the later years, was introduced in season two. When we first met Serena she was quite sultry; as the series went on she got a bit more kooky. I never count the episode where she was a hippie and wearing long blonde hair, as that never made sense.
Since Lizzie played both roles, 1960s and ’70s technology was used to make this happen. Most often a shot would feature Lizzie’s stand-in, Melody McCord, with her back to the camera. In the standard definition days you would occasionally get a quick glimpse of Melody as either Sam or Serena with her face towards the camera, usually in a very quick shot.
With “Bewitched” episodes restored to quality far surpassing what was available in the 1960s and through the magic of computers, it’s easy to see Melody front and center in either role. In the photo above we can see Melody coming through the front door as Serena.
Melody McCord had a recurring role on “Falcon Crest” and Melody the maid. She was also the stand-in for Goldie Hawn in “Death Becomes Her”. She passed in December 2004. She was more than a decade younger than Elizabeth Montgomery.
Sometimes I just enjoy a photo of a shirtless man caught shaving. Although the OCD in me notices that his shaving cream is way too dry for an effective shave.
During our weekend adventures we stopped in Tempe for a quick bite to eat. These flowers near the freeway caught my attention because I found their color quite enjoyable.
We are going to be sprucing up the landscaping around the front of the house later this spring. I need to convince the rest of the family that plants like this need to be included in front of my office window.
I love this whole flowers in the winter thing we have going on here.
Photo of Carrie Coon and Morgan Spector as Bertha and George Russell in ”The Gilded Age”.
I guess I enjoy power couples of any century. As a fan of ”Downton Abbey”, I was eager to see HBO’s ”The Gilded Age” by Downton writer Julian Fellowes. The seventh of eight episodes in the first season was released for streaming this evening. I’m happy to know the series has been renewed for a second season.
”The Gilded Age” takes place in New York in the late 1890s, and it’s all about money and status and moving up the society ladder. George and Bertha Russell have built a grand home with their new money and she is eager to find her place in society amongst the Astors, the Vanderbuilts, and other well known names of the time period. The sets and costumes are gorgeous, there’s familiar elements from ”Downton Abbey” for those interested in the Upstairs/Downstairs story and Christine Baranski isn’t half bad as an American version of Maggie Smith’s Dowager Countess of Grantham. (She’s called Aunt Agnes or Mrs. Van Rhijn).
It took me a couple episodes to warm up to the show, but by episode three everyone seems to be settling into their roles. Mr. Spector and Ms. Coon have been hitting it out of the park since we first met them in episode one. I love the power couple dynamic and they both seem to be reveling in their roles.
After this evening’s episode, with a little comedic twist at the end (no spoilers here), I‘m sad to see that next week’s episode is the last of this season.
Just a guy with a husband. We’ve been together 28 years and he still makes me see fireworks on a daily basis. Hiker. Storm Chaser. Private Pilot. Tech Guy. Hackerish.
