Ponderings and Musings

I had the most bizarre dream last night. For some odd reason I was selected to be the gay male co-host on the next season of “The View”. There I was, sitting around the table with Joy, Barbara and Elisabeth with an “S” sharing my opinion on just about any topic. Barbara Walters looked older (maybe it was a nightmare) and Elisabeth with an “S” was shrieking like a yapping dog. After some political discussion and more barking from Elisabeth with an “S”, Joy brought up the topic of breast enhancements on women and how she believed that some women got them because their boyfriend or husband liked bigger breasts. These women didn’t want bigger breasts but they were basically being forced to get them. There was a picture of a woman with huge breasts up on the big screen. I remember spouting off my opinion and saying that I don’t get it as you don’t see many gay men injecting their junk with silicone to make themselves bigger and more attractive, why should women have to do the same thing with their breasts just to make their man happy. If they _want_ bigger breasts, well more power to them, but they shouldn’t _have_ to get them. I remember Barbara’s head falling down onto the table when I said “junk”. The audience went wild (good thing I didn’t say ‘dick’). Then I woke up because I suddenly had a paw in my eye (someone was telling me it was time for tuna).

This is a bizarre dream on several accounts. First of all, I never notice breasts. No offense to those that have them but they don’t do a thing for me so why look for them. In fact, I think this may have been the first time in 39 years that I’ve ever dreamed of breasts. Secondly, Earl and I haven’t watched The View since the second day after Rosie’s abrupt departure and we really have no interest in watching it again. I have no desire to be on The View. I don’t even want to sit in the audience.

Maybe I just have a big mouth.

There are many uncertainties when a person joins a workgroup environment. Will the person in the cube next to me use their perfume as a marinade? Does anyone count the number of trips that I make to the bathroom? Will I get hollered at for standing on my chair to talk to the person in the next cube over? Luckily, my fears have gone unfounded on these questions unless the NSA is keeping track of me pee breaks or something.

The chief concern of our workgroup boils down to two simple words. Temperature control. I discovered early on that he who holds the rights to the thermostat essentially holds the secrets to the universe.

Working in a fancy place called the “Network Operations Center”, we have a LOT of computer equipment and related electronic devices scattered all over the place. To maintain optimum efficiency, it’s important that they run at their proper temperature, so the room has to be relatively cool to achieve this. Being a diehard geek I totally get this and understand it and so I know how to deal with it. I do have metabolism on my side, however, as my body temperature is always unusually low, hovering around 95 or so degrees Fahrenheit. I’m hardly ever cold. Except when I’m at work. At work, I freeze to death.

The room is actually a bunch of smaller rooms with all the walls knocked down and then subsequently divided up by having cubicles thrown all over the place. Our supervisor sits in the middle of the chaos and closest to the thermostat. He holds the secrets to the universe. Having to deal with the headaches associated with his job and other fun scenarios, it’s understandable that his blood pressure boils and makes him warm. So he cools the place down by spinning the dial down. This results in a couple of things. The co-worker behind me starts chattering her teeth like Linus waiting for the Great Pumpkin to arrive. The co-worker next to me wraps up in a shawl, sometimes so tightly that she looks like she’s mourning the death of something. Apparently I’m cold blooded because I go into hibernation mode where my eyes glaze over, my web browser browses aimlessly and I eat little scraps of food. I then announce that I’m coming back from lunch with a parka, complete with hood. To add to the fun, I bark over the intercom for someone to pick up a can of Alpo for the sled dogs.

It is then that a brave soul takes a letter opener and jimmies it under the thermostat control, getting the dials to spin in the other direction. Good by Alaska, hello Arizona. But at least it’s a dry heat.

And so it goes, eight hours of a temperate roller coaster. I have to admit though, I kind of enjoy the ride and the folks I’m riding with.

What’s a night owl to do on a hot, muggy summer night in the beginning of August? The alarm is set for 6:00 a.m. I have hopes of going for a bike ride before getting ready for and to work by 8:00. I’m not tired at all. I can’t even fake being tired right now. All that’s going through my head is that my alarm is going to blare out the news on NPR in less than seven hours.

God bless Earl. I’ve already tried going to bed with him and purposely falling to sleep by his side. I’ve sang “Mr. Sandman” complete with bass line. I’ve chatted like some crazy cross between a whippoorwill and a loon. I’ve done impressions of Earl’s soon-to-arrive CPAP machine by covering my mouth with my hands, breathing really hard and saying “Luke, I am your father.” I’ve flipped back and forth and ended up with my knee in Earl’s back. I’ve played the beginning rhythm of Copacabana on his bare ass. He finally blurted out, “Would you shut the f*ck up?!?” His statement was full of love, no worries there.

I’m still not asleep.

Sigh. Night owls shouldn’t have to fake the day life.

Today I’m running some errands, doing some research for my roadgeek website and just enjoying the beautiful summer weather. My first stop was a local bike shop to pick up some needed tubes and some proper cycling glasses, courtesy of a gift certificate from my mother and my sister. I was actually able to buy two pair of glasses that are just perfect, one for day riding and one for riding in the evening or at night (they’re very slightly tinted). I feel like one of the cool kids when I have them on. I’ll have to share a picture in my full gear.

Now I’m sitting at a Panera, trying to eat a sandwich that deconstructed itself as soon as I touched it. The bread slid one way, the cheese another and the mayo laughed it’s head off.

For some reason I’m absolutely delighted about a rather large party that is taking up several tables in the middle of the eating area. They seem to be having a birthday celebration for a grandmotherly looking woman that reminds me a little bit of my “grandma city”*, especially in her demeanor. Her gift is a large potted plant arrangement. The way her eyes are sparkling at the gesture has made my day.

There’s a number of people surfing the internet and conducting business on their computers and cell phones here. Surprisingly, they’re not intrusive about their conversations at all. I like to think that my constant complaining of cell phone use on this blog is getting the message out there that we don’t appreciate that sort of rudeness, but they’re probably just cell phone savvy. I don’t have that many readers.

I’m curious as to what the weekend has in store for us. This was to be the weekend that my high school alumni marching band made it’s debut, but too many people bailed out of the project on me, leaving me with a tuba player, a trumpet player and a bunch of flute players. Maybe next year. Earl and I have thrown around a few places to travel to, including Niagara Falls, Pittsburgh or Baltimore, but I think we might enjoy the summer sun rather locally and perhaps go to the field days in my home town.

* I’m sick of writing “maternal” and “paternal” grandmother, as it sounds entirely too formal to me, so I’ve opted for “grandma city” and “grandma country”. My sister and I were fortunate to have two loving grandmothers that were different in many respects.

Earl and I ran errands tonight. We stopped and hand washed the Acura. We even brought the towels so we could dry it and make it look really shiny. We ran to the post office. We stopped at the ATM. It was there that Earl dropped a bomb on me. “We need to stop at Wal*mart.”

The temperature is going to be near 100 degrees tomorrow. This makes the factory environment of Earl’s plant tip closer to 120 degrees. Being the caring general manager of the facility that he is, Earl wanted to pick up several cases of Gatorade and bottled water for his employees, to try to make working conditions as bearable as possible.

I hate to admit it, but Wal*mart has the best deal on Gatorade. They have to, or else Wal*mart wouldn’t sell Gatorade. That’s just the way it works in Wally World.

I think I have anger management issues with a touch of a superiority complex. When I see people walking through Wal*mart with those god awful cell phone ear pieces I want to slap the said wearer right across the face. Hard. I want to say “you’re not that important and you look stupid.” If they’re not wearing the ear piece and opting to talk on the phone instead, I want to beat them over the head with their phone. I feel a strong urge of hostility when I see this gross abuse of technology.

Then I see the people in those motorized carts terrorizing everyone around them and buying cases of generic macaroni and cheese. And cartons of cigarettes. I want to shove those people right out of those carts. There are people on crutches who could use those carts, but they’re hogging them up because they’re damn lazy and eating all that macaroni and cheese. An occasional meal of homemade macaroni and cheese is a delight but a constant diet of that fake crap is a travesty. I would like to yell “eat some salad!” as I shove them out of the lazymobile. They’d go ‘plop’ on the floor.

I don’t get hostile in K-mart or Target. I was friendly back in the days of Ames. There’s just something about Wal*mart that makes me downright surly. I don’t know if it’s the fact that we’ve been stripped of just about any other choice than the supercenter behemoths. Perhaps it’s the extraordinarily loud television sets mounted from the ceiling or the shrill service desk clerk yelling for a tampon price check over the intercom. Whatever the reason, I feel like when I step into Wal*mart, I Always Have Issues, Always.

Last night I decided that I needed to get back into the routine of riding my bike to work so this morning I was up an extra half hour early and on my bike for my daily commute. I can still remember the first time I rode my bike to elementary school back in the late 1970s and the thrill I felt as a youngster as I got to school under my own power. I still feel that thrill to this day when I ride my bike to work.

There’s a certain amount of planning involved with doing this environmentally friendly peddle pushing. This is the first time that I’ve ridden my bike to this job and there’s a dress code expectation of sorts that has to be met, so prepping for the ride involved planning and packing clothes that wouldn’t get exceedingly wrinkled while in a small backpack, plus I needed to pick the right shoes that would dangle off the bottom of my back pack without creating too much discomfort in that area.

Another first for me today is this is the first time I’ve ever packed my laptop for a bike ride. I usually dash home at lunch but there’s no “dashing” when one is on a bicycle, so I opted to walk our fine downtown and take advantage of the free wi-fi service they recently unveiled. It’s a little slow, but it does the trick.

Downtown Utica has become an interesting study for several reasons. First of all, it’s suffering from the aftermath of a propserous turned disasterous urban renewal plan from the 1970s. During this project of over 30 years ago, many of the historic buildings were razed and cement-chic buildings popped up in their place. Unfortunately some of these buildings, as well as their remaining older counterparts, are currently empty as businesses close down or relocate to the commercially prosperous suburb of New Hartford. What was once a busy downtown retail area has been replaced by an apartment building, several office buildings and countless empty storefronts. There’s also a relatively modern hotel that seems to be holding on, though with the construction of a new Hampton Inn underway, I don’t know how long it’s going to be able to hold it’s own.

It was only three or four years ago that you would see hot dog carts and whatnot on the street at lunch time. I used to be able to walk around the downtown area and see lots of people walking from their office to one of the several lunch counters. Today none of that is to be found. I guess the office workers in this area are brown bagging it or going to one of the newer chain restaurants in the suburbs. There are just a few people on the sidewalk. I’m sitting in the courtyard at the State Office Building. I’m one of five people here. This building has 16+ floors of offices. It’s 12:23 in the afternoon. You’d think there’d be more people out here enjoying the beautiful weather and a lunch.

I’m hesitant to admit it but I hope that Earl and I stick around long enough to see this city turn itself around.

There’s a certain amount of danger in staying up late on the weekends and then taking a two hour nap on Sunday afternoon.

You end up babbling in your blog about nothing at 1:09 a.m.

After a delightful afternoon with family and friends in Syracuse, Earl and I zipped halfway across The Empire State to Albany for a gathering of all thing bear. We’ve returned to the scene of the crime at a Motel 6 for the night. I call it the scene of the crime because this is the first hotel Earl and I spent our first date weekend at. We became inseparable more than a decade ago in this very hotel.

Tonight the tradition continues.

As I mentioned earlier in the week, I was having a difficult time getting my hands on a copy of “The Secrets of Isis”, which was released on DVD on Tuesday. I’ve given up on the traditional brick and mortar DVD outlets in our area and have decided to stick to online when I really need to add a movie or TV series to our collection. My copy of Isis arrived yesterday from Amazon. Earl and I spent much of last night watching episodes and the huge assortment of extras available with this set. I’ve said before that I am a fan of the work of Andy Mangels, who was in charge of putting this set together. Andy is gay comic extraordinaire and appears at conventions and whatnot. He can also be seen on some of the special features on the Wonder Woman DVDs. We’ve corresponded on numerous occasions and he’s a great guy.

“The Secrets of Isis” is a live-action Saturday morning show from the mid 1970s. Usually coupled with the popular “Shazam!” (the version with Billy and Mentor in a Winnebago), Isis appeared in the second-half of the hour in her own program. In response to criticisms of violence in the Saturday morning shows of the era, Isis, like many of her Filmation Production counterparts, included a moral at the end of each episode. These 30 second vignettes reinforced the theme of the episode in an educational manner. Unfortunately, they were all chopped off of the master copies of the episodes in the 1990s, and subsequently discarded by the folks at Hallmark, who owned the rights and property to the show for a number of years. (The rights were sold to BCI Eclipse earlier this decade and that’s why we finally have a DVD release of the program).

I can’t help but think that the United States would be a better place today if some of the Saturday morning programming for children were less about war, strife and violence and more about everyday scenarios with a supernatural twist (for example) and just a touch of a moral message through the show. The moral messages through the Filmation Productions, including Shazam and Isis, certainly had a HUGE impact on me as a child and quite frankly had a big part of the shaping of my adult moral foundation. Isis didn’t tell me how to think but she was an outsider that was reinforcing the basics that my mother and father successfully instilled in me.

“The Secrets of Isis” DVD set includes many of the morals from the first season episodes. These were obtained from fans of the show that were able to capture them on videotape in the late 1970s and early 1980s. The quality of them varies considerably and comes nowhere close to the rest of the DVD set, however, I’m happy that Andy Mangels, as well as BCI Eclipse, decided to include these on the set as they are a very important element to the show.

I could easily post all the morals from the set as I believe that the messages still hold true today, but I’ve decided to include only one for your enjoyment.

It’s lunch time. The back door is open. There’s no movement in the back lawn, aside from a few swoops by a cranky crow. There’s insect type sounds, the constant twitter you’d hear from a cricket and that buzzing sound you hear once in a while. I don’t know who makes that noise.

Tom is parked in front of the door. He can go outside anytime he wants, as he has a cat sized hole in the screen of the patio door, but he opts to stay inside and perk his ears up when the crow chatters. The sky has white, puffy clouds drifting by aimlessly. The sun feels warm.

The weather is perfect for the end of July. It’s all good.