Ponderings and Musings

So tomorrow Earl and I are going to the mall to do our holiday shopping. We try to make the Christmas shopping a fun experience by going someplace that we are not overly familiar with. It gives us a new perspective on our surroundings and we’re less apt to get hostile with people we might know in the community if we go someplace out of state or something like that. However, since I am on-call this weekend, I’m not sure that we’ll be going very far, so there’s a slight chance that we might get hostile with someone in the next city. It’s the chance you take when you’re concentrating on the spirit of the season.

I have never been one to enjoy shopping. I don’t like the hustle. I don’t like the bustle. I like going places and looking at geeky things, and I certainly like buying something shiny, but I like to do it during a snowstorm, avalanche or earthquake or other event as the stores tend to be less crowded and people tend to be less focused on being mean to one another. Only the laid back folks tend to shop during outrageous events and quite frankly I find them to be the more pleasant to be around. Besides, when salespeople are all concerned about a blizzard or an approaching tornado funnel they tend to be less intrusive into my personal space and I feel more comfortable in the store.

My father rarely stepped foot into a grocery or department store. When we went Christmas shopping for the holidays we’d always start out at Central Tractor. We might make our way to Two Guys or JM Fields afterwards. I know that he stepped foot into our local Ames only twice, and once was before it was open (so he could drop off some construction materials they had bought from the family business) and the second time was when he picked out my three-speed Huffy bike that was destined to be my birthday present.

He did find solace in B. Daltons, now that I think about it. He did enjoy reading at the book store while we made our way around the shopping center turned mall which has since been turned back into a shopping center. Maybe I should just park myself at Barnes and Noble tomorrow and find a little bit of comfort in the middle of the chaos.

‘Tis a pity the weather forecast looks relatively calm.

Earl and I have been together for over 1 1/2 decades. We have had joyous times, we’ve had sad times, we are there for each other, through thick and thin, for better or for worse and all of that stuff. We’ve been through two house purchases, built a business together, killed a business together and are able to finish each other’s sentences without an issue. However, there is one important part of our relationship that we struggle with.

We both think we know how to put lights on the Christmas tree. In fact, we each know how to do this. And the struggle is, the other one does it wrong.

This is one of the primary dangers of a marriage of two gay men. Those that dabble in the stereotypical aspects of the homosexual path have a certain eye or flair when it comes to things like decorating. There’s a really good chance that not just one but both members of the relationship have been the “designated one” for Christmas light installation whilst growing up. I know that I was the one that put up the Christmas lights outside every year. I rearranged them on a nightly basis after school. Every time my mother drove into town I asked her to pick up another 35-count set of “Merry Midget” lights. The meter on the electric pole by the driveway spun so hard the wires to the road quivered. I timed the blinking lights on the Christmas tree perfectly.

The issue is, Earl did the same thing growing up.

Imagine the conflict when we realized that while we both had the same goal with our festive lighting practices, we did it in completely opposite ways.

Earl starts at the top of tree. I start at the bottom, at the spot closest to the wall outlet.

Earl puts the tree topper on first. I shriek at such a thought.

Earl lights to use the last strand of lights to fill in random places throughout the tree that might be devoid of light. I maintain a symmetry of having the lights weave in and out in a parallel, yet suggestively random pattern.

You can just imagine the horror I felt back in 1996 when we went to decorate our first tree together and he put the star on the top first. The crabby woman that lived under our apartment had to bang on the ceiling with her cane because we were yelling so much.

I have learned to take a deep breath when it’s time for this annual practice but I refuse to give in completely. I claim ownership of the ladder and I’m not coming down until I am satisfied with the installation of the lights. As we grow older things have mellowed out a bit. What used to involve yelling and huffing and puffing has been reduced to an occasional glare and the sneaky practice of making sure the light strands remain parallel (please don’t tell him), despite his attempts to go all over the place with that last set of lights.

I did give in a little bit and ended the practice of having the Merry Midgets blink. No one accuse me of not having the holiday spirit, after all.

My grandparents on the country side of the family did a lot of traveling, especially during their retirement years. For the most part they confined their travels to the lower 48 states. Both often remarked that folks seemed “mean as hell” (as my grandfather put it) in Central New York.

I think that man was right.

I don’t know if it’s because the folks in Central New York have up to six months of snowy weather to look forward to each year or if the sun doesn’t shine enough or what, but whenever Earl and I travel elsewhere in the U.S. we always remark that people seem friendlier than they do at home. We are finding this to be very true here in the Houston area.

I just went for a walk around downtown because quite frankly, the confines of the hotel fitness center intimidates me a little bit. As I walked around at a brisk pace, about 80% of the folks nodded or said hello in my direction. People were smiling. People seemed relaxed. It feels like a friendly place here. I have to remember to let my guard down just a little bit so that I reciprocate the friendly gesture. It feels good to smile. I need to remember to do it more.

I think my country grandparents were right with their assessment of the friendliness of folks outside of our home territory. Perhaps I’ll bring some of the good nature home with me and try spreading around a bit and see if it makes a difference.

So yesterday the mound of laundry waiting to be washed was about waist high. That’s quite a bit of laundry. I don’t mind doing laundry, but it is a little bit difficult to get to doing laundry when one works all day, does the whole supper thing, heads to the gym and runs the little errands that need to be done since one works all day. I have no idea how people with kids and the like keep up with it all. But I managed to get the laundry mostly done so Earl and I can get ready for our vacation. Tonight we pack, tomorrow after work we hit the road. I’m looking forward to the adventure.

There’s something about clutter reminding you that it needs to be taken care of that can be more daunting than the actual chore of doing something about the clutter. It’s kind of like when you’re used to doing your own thing at work, like I am with working from home, and someone suggests that you should book an appointment or meeting or something. The prospect of having to structure your life around this appointment can be more daunting than the actual meeting itself. Or maybe that’s just the way I think. I like to feel free, and entries on my daily calendar can make me feel unfree. But I cope.

Inspired by the laundry accomplishments yesterday, I ended up cleaning out some cupboards and heaving out cat beds that Tom has never used in his life. I don’t know that I have ever known a cat to use the actual cat bed. They might use the box or sleep between said cat bed and the adjacent wall, but sleep in the actual cat bed? Nah, cats have better things to do. They have free calendars with little worries.

Maybe I should take a cue from them and sleep on the waist high pile of dirty laundry next time.

So I’m a pretty vain guy. Whenever I see myself in the mirror I have to give myself the once over, make sure the old boy is holding up pretty good. While my appearance might not meet the expectations of others, it must meet my expectations. Hence, vanity. I don’t think it’s a horrible thing.

Now I don’t couple my vanity up to insanity. For example, I don’t believe in the whole metrosexual thing. I don’t get that at all. I don’t understand why guys pluck their eyebrows to look like a 30’s starlet or a Barbie doll. That’s just weird to me. Perhaps I don’t understand that because my eyebrows are nearly invisible. They’re doing their thing, they’re just not showy about it.

For the past week I’ve been letting my beard grow out a little bit with the intention of not really growing a huge beard, just a little something to show that I have a beard but nothing to strain soup or anything like that. It’s been nearly a year since I’ve had a full beard and when I last had a beard, I had some gray here and there but for the most part there was plenty of my natural gingerness to be found.

Imagine my surprise when I noticed the bulk of my new beard is gray. There were no screams or tears. There possibly might have been an audible gasp.

Now as I mentioned before, I have no interest in syncing my vanity up with insanity. While some people find comfort in wearing hairpieces or coloring their hair or beard or the like, that’s not me. I wouldn’t feel “real” doing that sort of thing. That’s why I’m bald by choice and that’s why you’ll never see me discreetly carrying a bottle of “Just for Men” around the drug store. If it works for you, great, I just know it won’t work for me. But I’m still vain, so I have been considering going back to clean shaven until the entire beard is gray. I would rather be all gray than some gray. I don’t know why that is, but it is. And I’m pretty sure senility hasn’t set in yet.

The jury is still out on whether the mostly gray beard will linger for a little while longer. Maybe going on vacation next week will help me feel more comfortable with the gray sprouts on my face.

Earl and I are currently speeding along the Northeast Extension of the Pennsylvania Turnpike. Since I am typing this blog entry, it is safe to assume that he is currently driving. We are on our way to his hometown where we are going to do our annual cemetery duties; we are putting grave blankets on the graves of his parents and other family members. I had never heard of grave blankets prior to meeting the love of my life, but this is something that folks apparently do down in these parts. The blankets in question are much like an evergreen wreath except the size of a grave. It’s a festive way to honor the memory of a loved one. I like the idea.

I have resolved that I am not going to look at the speedometer while Earl is driving. He tends to drive faster than I do these days but I still yell and swear more. It’s a balance that any married couple can achieve once they put their mind to it.

I have been feeling inspired lately. Feeling inspired is a good thing because I take it as a sign that I have found my happy place in my head and that I am able to express that happiness through little creative endeavors. For example, I’m feeling more inclined to write. I feel like I’m writing more in the blog, I’m certainly participating in other social networking outlets more again and I’ve begun doing some work on my clock collection again.

I was recently contacted by another collector who collects the same make and model of clock systems that I collect. He and his partner managed to buy the entire system from a local school at auction and then were able to score several pieces from another school. We have been chatting back and forth a little bit over the past couple of days and he has shared some photos of his clocks. His work is top notch. I’m looking forward to seeing his collection in person someday. His excitement for our shared hobby has inspired me to start working on the website highlighting my collection again and because I’m feeling more creative, I feel more inclined to pay attention to that site that hasn’t seen an update in a couple of years. This spark of creativity has, in turn, sparked my road geek side again and I have been updating that website over the past couple of weeks. Which then led to a programming project that I am working on with our friend Jeff that will eventually lead to more financial security in my future.

It’s all creatively driven and it’s all connected and more importantly, it’s all been sparked because I have been able to find my happy place again. That’s a really good feeling.

I have in this blog many times over the years that I hope that someday I will figure out who I am and what makes me tick. I have a pretty good idea of all of this and with this recent feeling of marked happiness, I feel like I’m getting closer to achieving that goal.

Life is good. Especially when you want it to be.

Back when I was a kid there would be much excitement with the arrival of the Sears “Wish Book”. It was fun for the whole family.

I would flip through the Wish Book and come up with ideas for my Christmas list that Santa apparently wanted to see. Then magical people would run off with the magical list and on Christmas morning there’d be one or two items from the Wish Book under the tree, though I think Santa went to J.M. Fields instead of Sears, now that I think about it. Sears was kind of fancy for us.

Anyways, as I mentioned yesterday, I have been asked by a couple relatives as to what I want for Christmas and though I always answer, “nothing, really”, that’s not the answer one expects, so today I went and made myself an Amazon Wish List.

Now, I think that composing an Amazon Wish List is kind of crass. Truth be known, I find it wicked crass, but it appeals to my organized/OCD side. It’s functional. It runs way too close to that whole “gift registry” thing that people do when they’re getting married and I’ve never been really comfortable with that whole thing either (though the software that runs gift registries is kind of nifty). So I have an Amazon Wish List and I’ve even posted it right here in the right hand column of the blog. Not because I want people to buy me things, I REALLY don’t want that, but I thought it’d be very 21st century to share my Amazon Wish List so that one could get a different perspective on my personality. Well, at least the parts of my personality that I want to be public. I

If one really wanted to buy me a meaningful Christmas gift, it would be a donation to the Ali Forney Center. That would make me really happy and be more in the true spirit of the holidays as far as I’m concerned.

It was much easier flipping through the Sears Wish Book.

Earl and I were talking about employment options last night and he mentioned that I’ve gotten to that age where I need to always keep my retirement under serious consideration. He is a wise man and that is a very true statement. One of the best gifts he has ever given me was on my 30th birthday where he insisted that I start a Roth IRA. Luckily, I’ve been saving up for retirement since then through various means. However, last night he mentioned that I need to always keep in my pension in mind.

That’s when I broke it to him that I don’t get a pension with my current job. I think he paled a little. When I reminded him of my 401K, the color returned to his cheeks.

The truth of the matter is that I don’t have wide sweeping plans for retirement. Since it’s probably over 20 years away, it’s not something I give a lot of thought to, but when I do think of my “sunset years”, I tend to go with what I know: rural location, no neighbors, comfortably sized mobile home. Flat terrain would be best. Something like Kansas or Oklahoma. After all, living in a mobile home in the middle of Kansas or Oklahoma would give my life just enough zing to keep it interesting. I might travel once in a while but right now I feel no need to travel the world. I’d rather we do that when we are adequately funded and still young enough to climb a mountain or jump off a waterfall.

Earl really pales with any mention of living in a trailer but I think it’s because it’s way outside of his paradigm. The only time he’s mentioned that it might be acceptable was after we visited my godparents in their retirement village in Florida. I don’t see me living in a retirement village (I’m really not that fond of people) but at least he saw that downsizing to something like that could be an option.

I guess we’ll just have to see what the future brings.