Ponderings and Musings

I decided to take a little break from blogging this weekend just for the heck of it. Earl and I have been keeping busy with picking up patio furniture, amassing everything required to build a set of stairs for the patio and going to bear night in Albany.

I guess I’ll be in a bloggy mood tomorrow after my return to college.

It’s all good.

I am on public wi-fi once again, tonight I am sitting in the terminal at Syracuse Airport. I’m waiting for Earl’s plane to land as his flight is expected in the next half hour or so.

I really don’t know how people fly regularly as part of their business responsibilities. Earl flew with a colleague to Tennessee. They were booked on the same flights and were to sit side by side on all four legs of the journey. For some reason Earl got bumped to standby while his colleague didn’t. Since they had driven to the airport together yesterday morning, the logistics didn’t work out when Earl ended up sitting in D.C. for five hours waiting for a new flight while his colleague flew home as scheduled.

This is where I come in.

I don’t mind picking Earl up at the airport at all, in fact I enjoy it a lot. I think it’s important to have your loved one waiting for you when you step off a flight, especially after a long day of waiting in airports.

I am once again sitting in a service area on the New York State Thruway. This service area of choice is called Scottsville and is in the Rochester area. Earl is out of town on business in Knoxville, Tennessee, hence my little road trip today. I just got off the phone with him and wished him sweet dreams. He was concerned about my driving home this late (I still have over two hours to drive and it’s currently 10:45 p.m.) He forgets that I love driving at night.

I spent the day driving to the southwestern most part of New York State and explored around the city of Jamestown. Once upon a time I lived there. I actually had two appearances in Jamestown, 1987-1988 and 1990-1991. I’ve taken Earl there a couple of times since. Today I spent quite a bit of time there looking around and reminiscing.

I find Jamestown to be an interesting city. First and foremost it’s the hometown of Lucille Ball. You can not look in any direction in the downtown area without seeing an image of Lucy on a billboard or a poster or on a building. It’s also home to Natalie Merchant and the 10,000 Maniacs, and her music is still quite prevalent on the local station, SE 93.

The area around Jamestown is also very scenic. Rolling hills lead the way to Chautauqua Lake. While Chautauqua Lake is similarly sized, it doesn’t really fit in with the neighboring Finger Lakes of Upstate New York. It sort of does it’s own thing. Wineries dot the shoreline of nearby Lake Erie. Old villages such as Fredonia and Falconer still have active, vibrant downtown areas. It’s hard to describe, but I feel very comfortable in the terrain and vibe of Chautauqua County. While hilly, it still feels expansive. In the Mohawk Valley, where we live now, it’s hilly but it feels very closed in to me. I never feel completely settled in the Mohawk Valley. The pace in Jamestown is a little more relaxed and the natives are decidedly friendlier. I think it’s because that corner of The Empire State is knocking on the Midwest’s front door, and I’ve always been a fan of the Midwest.

As I drove around Jamestown and Chautauqua County today, I realized that when I had lived there I never really allowed myself to enjoy the experience. I was part of a relationship that wasn’t going very well. He had grown up in the area and was constantly looking for a way out. I didn’t allow myself to like that area simply because I was always being shown the negative aspects to living there. “It snows.” “There’s no ocean.” “It’s not progressive.”

Looking back at myself almost 20 years ago, I guess I’ve since learned that life is what you make of it. While I believe that we have a basic idea of what we’re going to do when we come into this life (via reincarnation), I fully believe that you make your own paradise or you make your own hell. My ex was choosing his own hell and trying to pull me into it. (By the way, he deserted the area long ago and lives somewhere on the ocean in California. I hope he’s happy. I don’t need to confirm if he is or not. I don’t really care.)

Today I saw the area in a whole new light and I really liked what I saw. It felt good. I felt like my smiles and warm feelings chased away the negativity I had 20 years ago. While stopped for supper, I cheered on the Buffalo Sabres right along with the rest of the crowd. (Jamestown is about 80 miles from Buffalo.) I really like the sports fan pride that’s so obvious as you drive around. We don’t have that at home. I told Earl I was going to start cheering on Buffalo for all sports and he told me “not football.” I told him, “we’ll see” (Earl is an Eagles fan).

So now I’m getting back on the Thruway, totally sugared up with a couple of donuts from Tim Hortons (thank the Universe they have Tim Hortons out here!) and ready to rock the road.

Mark’s blog entry from today got me thinking about MySpace and all it’s fellow wannabes. I must say that I don’t understand what the attraction of that site is.

I once registered for the site and then found myself completely stumped, frustrated and angered by the navigational tools they provide. It has the worst software interface known to man. I don’t know how people can deal with the flashing boxes, the hideous color schemes and the blaring music from nowhere. Boxes dance, mock LEDs jump up and down to rhythm from some banal track blaring from my speakers against my will and backgrounds clash with text in all sorts of hideous manner. I was once talking (in real-life) with a guy who mentioned that he was a blogger. Always eager to chat with other bloggers (even though I recognize that I’m not a *serious* blogger by any means), I asked him what software he used. He said his blog was on MySpace.

Uh, no. That’s not a blog. That’s a travesty.

For the few days that I was registered on the site I was nearly buried in requests from women wanting to be my “friend”. Some sent pictures which included lots of boobage. While I’m somewhat flattered by this, I can’t help but wonder if they were reading my profile which included the fact that I’m a gay bear that enjoys all that gay bears usually enjoy. Gay bears usually don’t enjoy boobage.

I also have a problem with the fact that MySpace is owned by Fox Interactive Media, which in turn is owned by News Corp. The folks at News Corp. are a little too Patriot Act happy; I wonder if they would feel obligated to take anything I posted on MySpace and promptly turn it over to the government. “Put him on the way gay list.” Granted, you can find anything on MySpace by a simple Google search, but I want Bush Lite to have to work for my information.

I’ve talked with other people face to face regarding MySpace (in a certain place, sorry I felt the need to go for the third rhyme) and have discovered that people are either really excited about the site or they dislike it immensely (like me). I have real-time friends that have made lots of friends and connections on MySpace and are often going crazy with text messaging and IMming the folks in their circle. Some awake in the middle of the night to a “New Message” alert on their cell phone. My friend Shirley often commented that it’s a sad reflection of our society that people feel they need to get electronically involved, instead of going outside and enjoying what the real-world has to offer. “Get some sunshine!”

I agree with her (he says as he’s typing on his computer in the dining room).

I think the final thing that put the nail in the MySpace coffin for me is the fact that Anita Bryant has a MySpace page. Somehow I find this extremely wrong (one reason being that I thought she was dead.) I wonder how many lesbians are hitting Anita up for some fun and showing her some boobage.

So today is Mother’s Day. Cynical types may say that today is much like Valentine’s Day, designed by the greeting card companies as an excuse to spend some dough on a present and a card. Well what do cynics know? Today is the day we celebrate Mom’s love and all she has done for us over the years.

To celebrate, Earl and I teamed up with my sister and took my Mom out to a restaurant in the middle of nowhere. Situated on 100 acres of land near the Finger Lakes, Elderberry Pond Restaurant features all organic food served in a rustic, country cabin/barn type setting. The food was delicious. We highly recommend the experience. Mom seemed to have a good time.

When I was a kid, I was somewhat aware that my Mom was the “cool Mom”. On field trips, which she rarely, if ever missed kids flocked from all corners to be in her group. Always one to hear her own drumbeat, she wasn’t much of the June Cleaver type; I learned early on in life to eat what was placed in front of me and to enjoy it lest it be snatched out from under my nose and dumped down the disposal. I was an expert at navigating the piles of laundry in the hallway between my bedroom and the bathroom during trips in the middle of the night. None of that mattered though, because Mom was more concerned with making sure her kids were happy and well-adjusted. Laundry could wait if it meant she could serve on the band booster club executive board or help out with my sister’s baton twirling troupe. When we did something wrong we knew it. But when we did something right, we knew that too.

It’s not easy to watch your Mom get older as she progresses into the age bracket that was once occupied by your two grandmothers. She’s not as quick with the reflexes. She walks a little slower. It’s hard to say “remember when…” when you launch into a story and then realize that she doesn’t really remember. “But mom, you must remember when I tried to fly by jumping off the barn roof…” (I was 16 – just kidding). Perhaps she purposely forgot the idiotic stuff. I’m sure she remembers the time she threw an impromptu birthday party for the kid down the road that didn’t get a party at home or both round trip rides to New York for her kids’ eighth grade trip. (Have you ever tried managing a group of 113 eighth graders on a subway platform in the Big Apple?)

I remember thinking as a kid once or twice what it would be like to have Barbara Eden or Elizabeth Montgomery as my Mom. Today I realize there’s no reason to wonder for she has her own kind of magic.

Happy Mother’s Day, Mom.

I’ve often said that I felt that Wal*Mart was onto something with their “Always” slogan but it needed to be revised a bit for something a little more descriptive of their shopping experience. The slogan should be “Always White Trash, Always.”

I’m not a fan of Wal*mart. I never have been and I never will be. I have shopped there on occasion, but for the most part I will go out of my way to avoid shopping at one of their behemoths. We have four Supercenters within fifteen miles of our home and because of this, it is getting harder and harder to avoid their virus like takeover of the neighborhood. Gone are the smaller grocery stores, the regional discount department stores and the specialized locally owned shops; today it’s all about Wal*mart in these parts. It’s a sad state of affairs.

Earl and I were picking up some bolts and such to install one of our computers in the basement and found that the local Lowe’s (another unnecessarily sized monstrosity) did not have the particular stuff that we needed. Since Lowe’s is situated next to Wal*mart here, we decided to go to Wal*mart to see if they had what we needed.

Now this type of spontaneous Wal*mart visit is bad on several accounts. First of all, it’s a spring Saturday morning so there’s all sorts of dangers including unruly children and unruly adults buying mondo-sized triple decker fatburgers with six packs of 32 ounce Grand Milwaukee beer or some such nonsense. Secondly, I prefer to go to Wal*mart only after two or three bottles of wine. I’m not particular as to whether it’s red or white. I find the only way to deal with the double digit IQs, the bad cart drivers and the loud televisions mounted everywhere is to be intoxicated. It adds to the mood.

Since we had these two whammies in place, Earl and I decided to approach the experience as a game. Every time an announcement was made over the intercom, I’d mimic the sound of the announcement in every annoying detail and decibel. I’d scream into my hand and make my version of the announcement as loud and indecipherable as the original. Quick little sidenote: why is it that Wal*mart associates feel they must yell into the telephone when making an announcement calling for a price check in adult diapers or whatever? Many stores have converted over to walkie-talkies and/or the pleasant ding ding ding of a chime like Sears and Roebuck. With all the gobs of cash that Wal*mart rapes from the community on the profits of their substandard merchandise you’d think they could afford a few Motorolas. I’m just saying.

Another part of our game was to make the “beep beep” noise, again very loudly, often associated with dump trucks backing up whenever we saw one of those motorized carts that are very en vogue these days. Oddly enough, the riders of said carts never seemed to pick up on the “beep beep” noise we were making in their presence.

We did take a tangent for a moment and made woofy noises and growled a couple of times at a hottie in a tank top and sunglasses. He smirked in our direction a couple of times. We weren’t following him, honest.

Anyways, we found what we needed and used the self-serve register, again a device inexplicably set to yell every command as loudly as possible. “Do you have any coupons? Do you have a rebate check? Are you using WIC? Would you like to be submitted to the local institution?” To bring the experience to a proper ending, I signed the electronic PIN pad/credit card receipt “Betsy Ross”.

I guess if you can’t beat ’em, join ’em. Always.

So it’s Friday. I finished the semester yesterday, paid for my summer course today and now I sit and wait and wonder what my final grades are. I have a pretty good idea, but there’s a couple of variables sitting out there being variably.

I tried mowing the lawn, but since it rained last night and this morning I ended up throwing a lot of water out of the shoot on the lawn mower. So much for that. I think it’s be easier to rent some goats.

I was working on various home improvement projects when I found I needed some things (bolts and a toilet seal, all so sexy) from Lowe’s. Earl called while I was working, I mentioned me intended trip, he said he’d like to go to Lowe’s with me. I don’t think he trusts me at Lowe’s with the debit card.

I’ve been arguing with my HP laptop today. For some reason Firefox keeps freezing when I’m trying to watch videos on YouTube. I don’t know who’s fault it is and I’m not in the mood to care, so notice the “Made On A Mac” flag in the sidebar. Update 5/12 – my Linux computer and I have made up, so I’m back on Ubuntu. -J.P.

It’s Friday. Perhaps we’ll see Spiderman 3 this weekend, though everything I’ve read and heard says that it’s not that good. Well neither was Jaws 3 and this Spiderman isn’t even in 3D.

I have officially completed my first semester of college. Today was my last final exam. It was 50 multiple choice and true/false questions in the wonderful topic of Sociology 101. I loved the course but I hated the final since it was the standard exam given to all students regardless of the professor for the course. The questions were worded a little differently than other exams. I felt there was some ambiguity thrown in for good measure so I’m not entirely comfortable with my performance. Hopefully I at least got a “B” on the exam so I didn’t compromise my grade too badly.

Grades come out a week from tomorrow, then it’s off to summer school on the 21st! I hear that’s where the bad boys hang out.

Mother Nature has been gracing us with thunderstorms today and I couldn’t be happier. Tom ducked for cover a couple of times with a few of the louder rumbles. One of the beautiful things about our home is that the breakfast table is surrounded by large windows on three sides. It’s almost as if we have a panoramic view of the storms blowing through. We’re under a severe thunderstorm watch through this evening. I think the National Weather Service is too quick to issue these watches and warnings these days; I feel like they “cry wolf” too often. When I was younger I don’t remember the constant barrage of weather statements, bulletin, watches and warnings. (One that I particularly dislike is a “snow event”. I have no idea what that is.) One thing that I don’t agree on is the activation of the Emergency Alert System with all of these weather watches and warnings. That should be reserved for the really bad stuff like tornadoes and hurricanes when it comes to weather (and other things such as nuclear plant meltdowns too). And now that I’m starting to get slightly ranty about this, I’m going to say that I don’t know what was wrong with the old “Emergency Broadcast System” with that loud two-tone screech that used to make one’s hair stand on end when they heard it. With this relatively new Emergency Alert System we hear modem farts over the radio (in radio we called them duck farts). They just don’t have the same sense of urgency as the old EBS tones from the Cold War Era.

This morning I was up bright and early to drive Earl to the airport. He is spending the next couple of days in Indianapolis on business. I get to hold down the fort for the next couple of days. Perhaps I should focus on studying for my final exam scheduled for Thursday.

You’d think that after 11 years of living with a partner that is an intermittent jetsetter that this sort of thing would be standard operating procedure, but I still feel like I’m punched in the gut when I see him head into the airport. I guess I am just a romantic at heart. I don’t know how couples that deal with this more frequently do it so eloquently.

Feeling a little woozy from our weekend of partying, I decided to stop at Panera before hopping on the Thruway and heading home. I have not been at this Panera before, it’s in the more afluent suburban village of Fayetteville. There are a lot of guys with computers using the wi-fi and drinking bottles of water. This is my first non-Mac experience at Panera, as I am using my newer HP laptop running Ubuntu Linux. Getting connected to the wi-fi network here was a flawless experience. I can’t believe it was easier to accomplish with Linux that it is with Mac OS X! This makes me very happy. I don’t know how these people can run around with Microsoft Windows, it’s just too much work.

Today was “Family Day” in that Earl and I went up to my Dad’s house to spend the afternoon with my dad and stepmom and my sister and her boyfriend. The weather was beautiful so we ate out on the back porch, catching each other up on our current events and reminiscing about the old days. The more wine and beer that was consumed, the livelier the conversation got.

After dinner we headed over to my grandparent’s house, which is across the street from my dad’s house. My grandfather passed a couple of years ago and the house has been sitting empty for the past year or so, on the market, waiting for it’s opportunity to become a home for a new family. I have to admit it’s hard to see your grandparent’s house in that state. It’s weird to walk into the kitchen and not smell something baking in the kitchen.

There are still a few odds and ends left in the house, including the thousands of slides my grandfather took over the past several decades. I have officially inherited all the slides, which I intend on scanning in for digital safekeeping and sharing. Before my grandmother’s death in 1996, my grandparents would travel the country two months out of the year (in February and in September). They usually limited their travels to the U.S. and Canada and embarked on the journey by automobile whenever possible. Talk about the blueprint for Earl and my travel habits! My grandfather was an avid amateur photographer and enjoyed taking slides to share at the holiday gatherings. My grandmother was scrapbooking way before it was en vogue. There are a ton of albums with newspaper clippings which documenting major, minor and mundane events in the little town that I grew up in. In addition, my grandmother also took a bunch of photos, which were all neatly organized in photo albums.

Tonight I snagged a few of the photo albums (temporarily) so that I could scan in the photos. My sister and I were the lucky grandchildren in that we lived next door, and later across the street, from my grandparents. So we are in quite a few photos.

Needless to say, happy tears were flowing before long.

One of the most beautiful things I noticed about the photos is that no matter the circumstance, the timeframe or the location, my grandparents are holding hands when in a ‘posed’ photo together. They were married just shy of 60 years when my grandmother passed on. They always looked happy. And surprisingly, the visited many of the same locations that Earl and I have visited on our adventures. Earl remarked, “So that’s where you get it from.”

Here’s a couple of photos I’ve already scanned in.

The first is from June 1973. My sister and I are playing on the doghouse my father had built for his German Shepherd. This was either from before the dog arrived or after he moved in with the farmer down the street after being asked to leave due to incessant barking.

This photo is from fall 1973. I believe this is from my first day of kindergarten. My mom and my sister joined me while I waited for the bus on the front porch. I really love this picture. My mom has a look of pride in her face that made me tear up when I saw this photo today.

This photo is marked September 1974. I believe this is my first motorcycle ride with my father on his 1969 BSA. I seem to recall that there were minor hysterics because Dad thought I was ready to ride when others that the contrary. I also remember being really excited about riding on the back of the motorcycle.

I thank the Universe for blessing me with such a wonderful childhood.