Ponderings and Musings

The local Linens and Things store is closing. This is a bad thing because it’s the closest store to our house in the event of a linens or things emergency. Being gay men we must keep our house well decorated at all times. Linens and Things helps out with this.

Earl and I browsed through the store closing sale items, where the junk from other stores has been shipped here for quick sale. I’m sure the good stuff has been shipped to stores that aren’t closing. Nevertheless, we spent $250 on various items.

Because of our visit to Linens and Things I must admit that I’m overly excited about going to bed tonight. We bought a “pillow top” mattress cover for our bed. I’m hoping this improves conditions in our bed to the point that I can easily drift off to peaceful sleep. Our mattress gets flipped quarterly as we were instructed when we purchased it five years ago. Earl is the bigger of the two of us. Ironically, I have the deeper trench on my side of the bed. I don’t know why this is. We can flip the mattress up, down, left, right, north, south and no matter which way it ends up there I am sleeping in a ditch while Earl relaxes up on the mountain. I don’t know why this is. I’m hoping the new pillow top mattress cover remedies this. It has memory foam embedded into the pad. I don’t plan on drinking any red wine in bed though¹.

We also purchased a new pillow for me. I think my current pillow was from 1986. Perhaps it was a graduation present from a relative or something. It was flat like a newspaper but it didn’t leave stains on my skin or anything like that. Now that I have a fluffy pillow again, I can wrap my arms around my old pillow. I have an odd way of sleeping: one leg must be outside the covers, the covers must be up to my shoulders and I bury myself into a little fort like area where I feel protected. Maybe I had an encounter with the boogieman some time in my past.

I go through this every year when I start cycling again. The second day is the hardest day to get back on the bike, especially if it’s been a while since I’ve ridden. My muscles are complaining a little bit but my body is adjusting to my return to exercise.

When I ride familiar routes I go into autopilot and my mind goes into daydream mode. I think of so many different things. I’m instinctively aware of what’s going on around me but my mind is elsewhere, occasionally searching mundane subjects; I’m thinking of ways to improve the road I’m on or I’m thinking of ways to increase productivity at work. Sometimes I get creative and think of a topic for a blog entry or an idea for a series of video podcasts pops into my head. Before I know it I’m trudging up the hill to the house. The last mile is the hardest, it’s always uphill. Both ways. In the snow.

He had been patiently waiting in the corner. There he sat, watching, knowing that his turn was coming. We were well acquainted. We’d spent many years together. This year would be no different, no matter how much I tried.

I finally came to his corner and extended my hand. I literally carried him up the stairs, where we would get reacquainted this year. We reminisced a little bit as I dressed to do the deed: “Remember when we helped those kids?” “How about the time they stared at us at Northern Lights Circle?” I spruced him up and he stood tall. I sat on his saddle and clamped myself in.

It was time to go for a ride.

As we danced on the pavement together, he softly reminded me that as Agnes Moorehead said several times during the series she’s most remembered for, “We are quicksilver, a flash of color, a fleeting sound. Our home has no boundaries beyond which we can not pass.” My body reveled and I could feel his smile beneath me. Tears streamed down my face.

In May 2000, at 221 pounds I rode six miles. I thought I would die.

In July 2008, at 189 pounds I rode sixteen miles. And I reveled in life.

It’s good to be a cyclist once again.

Here’s a random thought that popped into my head during “I Love Lucy” (which was another rerun!) Imagine being an aspiring singer. You want to hit the big time and have adoring fans as you grace the world with your melodious voice. American Idol isn’t good enough for you, you’re going to make it big, big, big like Jessica Simpson or Debbie Boone. Maybe Wayne Newton.

Wouldn’t it be quite the detour to be known as the guy that sings the rockin’ tune “1-2-3 LUMP SUM”. Oh sure, you can disguise it as a trendy pop tune, but in reality, it’s just “1-2-3 LUMP SUM! 1-2-3 LUMP SUM.”

Big time.

This past weekend Earl and I attended the graduation party of my cousin’s daughter. Naturally the question that was asked the most often was where she was going to go to college and what she planned on studying. She is going to become a pet psychologist. I give her credit for knowing what she wants to do with her life. I wish her luck.

I don’t know if it’s because I’m odd or what but at 40 years old I don’t know that I’ve settled in to what I want to do with the rest of my life. I probably have but then again I’ve changed careers a couple of times: I worked for a computer company. I’ve been a radio DJ. I work in technology again. I’ve worked with the developmentally disabled. I went to school for music education. I went to school for civil engineering. Don’t get me wrong, I like what I do. I like it a lot. And I’m pretty confident that I could do this for the rest of my life. I might need a change of scenery along the way but all in all my gig is pretty good.

I sometimes wonder if we put too much pressure on those entering adulthood by expecting them to know what they want to do for the rest of their life and then expect them to pay bucketloads of money in education, only to find out that it isn’t their cup of tea 10 years later. I know people that have changed careers as many times as I have and they’re very happy with their life. When I was in college there were several in my classes that had no idea what they were getting themselves into as civil engineers, it just sounded good in the college catalog so they signed up for it. They did their best but the lack of enthusiasm was apparent. They were told that they had to go to college and that was that. If they had just been given the chance to “find themselves”, I’m pretty confident that they wouldn’t have chosen the career path they were on.

Now, I’m not knocking my cousin’s daughter’s decision to become a pet psychologist. No, not at all. She knows what she wants to do and I think that’s wonderful! My point is that I don’t think we can expect each and every person to know what they want to do out of school. The New York State education system tends to test the hell out of every student these days and it also places what I feel to be unrealistic expectations on some students. The system sets many up for failure. Not everyone is hard-wired for continuing education. I’ve met many people that could barely write their name legibly and perform simple algebra, but they could assemble, disassemble and reassemble a V8 engine in a different car in less than a day. They did horribly in school and ended up not getting a diploma because of a fear of testing. However, they were given some room, a second chance via a GED and they now own a very successful auto repair shop.

Some people can clearly see the path that lies ahead. Others find twists and turns along the way. I think the most important thing is to recognise individuality and to celebrate that. If society allowed more of this exploration along the way, perhaps we’d have a happier society today.

This morning Earl was off to work early. He preceded his usual good-bye morning kiss with a loud, booming announcement, “You don’t look a day over 40!” Since it was 5:30 in the morning I was still very much asleep when he shared his observation.. It was then that I remembered that I’m 40 now. And I’m pretty much over it. Let’s get on with it.

I’m using the occasion as a launchpad for a couple of ideas that I’ve been floating around in my head again. I’m attempting to be a vegetarian again. This is my third attempt at being a vegetarian; I’m hoping that the third time is a charm. Becoming vegetarian is an attempt to better my eating habits though we all know that a vegetarian can easily eat unhealthy by doing things such as eating an entire bag of Doritos and a pound of potato salad for supper.

Not that I’ve done that before or anything.

I’m thinking of trying a recipe for a barbecue salad. It was basically a tossed salad that you barbecued, hence the name. I saw it on the Food Network years ago and I jotted it down somewhere. I just need to locate my notes or Google it again.

We spent yesterday at a family reunion of sorts, my cousin’s daughter graduated from high school and it was her graduation party. It was very enjoyable; we hung out with all of my city cousins and the rest of the family. Even though it was raining like crazy for much of the afternoon we still made the best of it under the tents my uncle had put up earlier in the morning.

So now I’m doing to work thing with a good attitude. Life is good. Regardless of the number attached to the year.

It is currently 79 degrees fahrenheit. I should be in bed, I have to get up early tomorrow. I feel tired. I’m "fading" somewhat in front of the computer. Still, sweat beads on selected spots on my body. This has kept me from hitting the hay.

Tomorrow a cold front should make an appearance in our area. It will be preceded by thunderstorms starting around 2:00 a.m. This will make for a busy day as Mr. Telephone Man tomorrow.

I should get some sleep.

Someday we’ll buy an air conditioner.

Many of my vivid childhood memories are pre-1977 which was the year we moved into the new house. Before moving we lived in a 10×55 mobile home with a 10×50 addition that my Dad had built shortly after my sister was born. The mobile home sat on a piece of property next to my grandparents. It was in the middle of a cow and horse pasture. Two sides of our back lawn were surrounded by electric fence. My Dad built the new house, a two-story colonial that he still lives in today, across the street from the trailer. Aside from some help from the two guys that worked at the family contracting business, my uncle and my grandfather, my Dad built the house pretty much on his own. It took him two years.

Four people living in a small mobile home was an interesting experience. During the summer we’d have one more living with us; one of my city cousins would come up for some “fresh country air” for a week. There was one bathroom and if we needed to go when someone was in there we’d run across the lawn to my grandparents and use their guest bath near the side entrance to their house. The addition to the trailer allowed for us to have a laundry room, but it was small and only had room for the dryer. The washing machine was in the bathroom. My parents’ bedroom was in the addition and utilized the original back door to the trailer. I don’t know how they had sex because the door was rarely closed. There was a gun rack built into the wall. The third room of the addition was the living room. The old living room in the original trailer became the dining room. It had a small round table that barely sat the four of us. My sister and I shared a bedroom, complete with bunk beds that took up the length of the north wall. Mom once tried to give my sister her own room by splitting the bunks and using the small bedroom behind the furnace, but it wasn’t long enough for a bed. Only a crib would fit in there and she had outgrown that years ago.

I like to think that living in the trailer kept us a close family as there wasn’t really any place for us to escape away from each other. Summer afternoons were spent romping around the farm; I’d hop up on a tree stump and jump into the fenced in pasture and do my own version of running with the bulls. The cows didn’t care if we were in the pasture, but once in a while a bull would get cranky about it. If I yelled “boo” in his direction really loud, he’d stop heading towards me. I’d then run to another tree stump in the pasture and jump back over the fence to my own side.

One of my favorite memories from the trailer was a birthday party for my sister and I. Our birthdays are five days apart and we shared a family birthday party. My city cousins and aunts would come up with Grandma and Aunt Jenn; it was one of the rare times that my city cousins would mingle with my country cousins, who lived relatively close. We’d have a cake that my Mom made, complete with those pure sugar candy letters and numbers from the Acme.

When I think back to the happiest times of my childhood, it’s often to a time when we lived in the trailer.