Ponderings and Musings

One of the hardest things about a quick weekend getaway, aside from the aforementioned snow incident, is getting back into the groove Monday morning. Especially when the thermometer says it’s -11 degrees fahrenheit. There is something very comforting about being under ten pounds of blankets and twelve pounds of cat in bed. It’s hard to get the old body moving when you can hear the roof creaking under the strain of the cold outside.

Nevertheless, I dragged myself out of bed and got my day started rather early this morning. I was so elated with the fact that I was out of bed before 8 a.m. that I started supper in the crockpot and studied all morning for my latest “math for dummies” exam. I didn’t completely lose my mind however, there’s still dirty laundry to be washed.

That’s tonight’s fun.

All things work out well I guess, for the studying paid off and I did well on the latest exam. My self-pacing for this course has paid off and all I have left is the final exam. I was given the practice final today by the instructor, I might tackle the real mccoy on Wednesday. I have two chances to do well with it. I intend on doing exceptionally well.

Earl always commends me on my dedication to my studies. I sometimes wonder where I’d be today if I had the same sort of enthusiasm for learning back on my first go around at college.

Tonight’s class was canceled so I’ve been working on my homework tonight, trying to get it done before the latest installment of “Heroes”. After supper Earl and I watched this morning’s “The View” via TiVo; I guess I never realized that HRG (Mr. Bennet) is Jack Coleman, the second gay Stephen from “Dynasty.” When I saw him without his “Heroes” trademark glasses, Earl and I exclaimed in unison that he’s pretty hot. I have a new appreciation for HRG man.

Nothing strikes terror in one’s heart after a glorious weekend with your lover in New York than these two heinous words: “Welcome Home.”

I’ve often thought that there is just one good thing about living where we live and that’s the fact that it’s easier to go somewhere else. After a beautiful weekend in The Big Apple, we drove up our road to our driveway to find that we couldn’t find it. There was a wall of about 4 1/2 feet of snow where the driveway should have been. The only way I knew the location of the driveway was because the two five-foot high posts I had installed earlier this year had their very tops showing. So I did the sensible thing.

I tried to drive through the snow bank.

With the Malibu.

What an idiot.

Naturally I got far enough into the driveway that I was able to bury the front of the car and trap us inside because we couldn’t open the doors. Earl briefly yelled at me for putting on the brake as I tried to make the plunge, which invoked my super powers enough to be able to force the door open. I trudged up the driveway, which had almost a foot of snow in it, got myself in the garage and grabbed a shovel and trudged back. I then started digging the car out. Earl and I took turns digging and rocking the car. I finally got out the snowblower and was able to clean out around the car a little bit. Earl then pushed while I rocked and then we rolled.

An hour or so later the driveway was clean long enough for it to start snowing hard again. I don’t care what it looks like in the morning.

Our area has been on the national news quite a bit because of the weather. One thing they keep talking about is the community spirit where neighbor is helping neighbor with a glow usually found around a fireplace and several glasses of brandy. Not here. The neighbors watched from their snug little houses as Earl and I huffed and puffed to get the car out of the road (which was unsurprisingly busy with big SUVs being driven by women with big hair) and into the driveway. I no longer care if I have to fire up the snowblower at 4 a.m. Tomorrow morning as they look out the window I’ll just wave back.

Earl and I continued our work in the basement today. We are now getting his space ready so he can move his office down into the cellar. Then we won’t have to rely on instant messenger to communicate, as he’s currently upstairs in one of the spare bedrooms and I’m in the basement.

Such a technolife we lead.

No home improvement project is complete without a visit to Home Depot or Lowe’s so today we chose the former. When all is said and done I think I’ll be ready to wire the electric service for an entire house, as we were able to install two new receptacles, complete with surface wire molding and tie it into the house current in less than 30 minutes. They say opposites attract, and that must be true, because Earl and I have completely opposite ways of approaching a project, but after almost eleven years of doing this, we have a system that works for both of us.

One of the changes that came about was the relocation of my favorite clock from my school clock collection.

This clock is from my elementary school. Back in 2000 the school district replaced all the clocks by popping out the face, glass and hands and bolting a new clock on top of the wood casing. This clock had been removed for a remodeling project and wasn’t reinstalled, so they offered it to me when they found out I was a collector of these clocks. From what I’ve been able to find out, the clocks in my elementary school were custom designed for that school (there’s no documentation anywhere and this particular style clock hasn’t been found anywhere else to my knowledge) so this could be the last clock left completely intact. It’s rather loud when it advances, so those that sleep in the spare bedroom will be glad that it’s been moved to a new location.

We are traveling to the Big Apple next weekend, so the home improvement project will have to be on hold until after the flooring for the locker room/office arrives.

It always comes around these parts at this time of year. The snow keeps falling. The snowblower keeps blowing. And the natives get surly while they’re snug in their homes waiting for the sun to shine once again. We call it “cabin fever”.

Earl and I spent the day moving furniture and cleaning around the house. It hasn’t been the most exciting weekend we’ve had together, but at least it’s been productive. I’ve been out of work for 42 days so I thought I should unpack the box of my belongings from my old desk. Hence the photo of the very technical piece of telecommunications equipment pictured above. There is an antiquated piece of equipment called a “reflectometer” which was used to troubleshoot the telephone network. Back in my on call days we had a customer that would call us and tell us that we needed to use one of them on his phone lines. I would just agree with him and clock the overtime. When I mentioned at the office that I didn’t know what this customer was talking about, this was on my desk. It was a gift from a co-worker a couple of years ago. It was used to monitor how pissed I was becoming while providing technical support. It’s now part of my new office in our basement.

Perhaps I should shine it on the lawn and melt some of this snow.

Here in Upstate New York we have a car dealership that sort of exploded in the past ten years and has opened several mammoth dealerships all over the state. He carries every car brand imaginable this side of the AMC Pacer. I’m not going to name his dealership by name as I don’t want to lend a hand in free advertising on his behalf, but his trademark is that “it’s huge”, in the most gutteral, annoying, uneducated belch of words possible. He has pretty much become the Wal*mart of the auto dealer set.

He is as annoying as hell.

First of all, the public is constantly barraged with his image. Everywhere. There’s a huge billboard on Interstate 81 in Syracuse with the word “huge”, his ugly mug and his arms spread wide like some sort of manic bird. He has a clock up there and it’s never right. Since stationary images are never enough, Centro, the regional transportation agency, has sold advertising space to him. So naturally you would think that his picture is on the back and/or sides of the bus. Wrong. The buses are completely wrapped in his image, forcing riders that must ride the bus and care to look out the window to do so by gazing through his hairy nostril or around his hairy armpit. Those in the back look through his teeth.

It’s disgusting.

As I’ve mentioned countless times, I worked in radio for over a decade. I’ve always been a fan of radio. However, I will not listen to a station that runs his ads. I don’t care if they are playing a string of Kylie Minogue, Madonna and The Pet Shop Boys constantly, if you stop the music for one of his commercials, your station is promptly on the SL and it’s staying there until XM or Sirius falls out of orbit. Now he doesn’t buy one ad to run four or five times a day like most sane organizations. No. This guy purchases one or two 60 second slots per break (what we in the industry called stop sets) and then barks out his “huge” numerous times and talks to some announcer shill guy named Tom over the phone. Tom acts like he’s at the car lot and Billy is out finding new deals for his buyers. Cluephone boys, we know that Tom is in some cushy studio in Florida and Billy is actually at one of his many dealerships barking over a speakerphone, because we’ve also heard Tom on spots in New Orleans, Orlando and Atlanta and they weren’t with you Billy. How does that make you feel, knowing that Tom is chatting it up with other car dealers too? He’s a manwhore.

I have now come to the point where I will terrorize a driver with a car with the little license plate frame that tells the name of this dealership. It is beyond my comprehension why any self-respecting person would make the largest or second-largest purchase of their life with this idiot.

When Earl and I travel, I take a certain comfort in knowing that Auto Idiot #1 will be left behind and it’s safe to listen to the radio. But no, now he’s in Niagara Falls, he’s in Albany and god knows where else. I think the only way to escape him is to go to the other side of the Mississippi.

I wish someone would just tell this guy to shut up, pack up your money and get the hell away from us. We don’t find you cute. We don’t find you articulate. We don’t find you clever and we certainly don’t find you pretty.

Just go away. Please. Oh, the cluephone is ringing again. We know why you keep barking out “huge”. It’s to make up for the more important parts that aren’t so huge.

When Earl got home from work I announced to him that I hadn’t started supper but if he didn’t want to go out I could heat up some leftover goulash-bake type stuff that I made last night. It was long on noodles and short on sauce, but still acceptable.

His response was non-commital. At least no profanity was involved.

So we went out for dinner. We went to a restaurant that we hadn’t been to in about a year, it’s a local place called “Casa Too Mucha”. They serve Tex-Mex food with a dollop of Italian and Lenten Friday Fish Fry on the side to keep the natives here happy. We used to be regulars at the place; we’d walk in and the co-owner/hostess would beam at us, give us a hug and have us cut ahead of everyone else in line (declaring loudly that we had reservations when we really didn’t, she said we were a “standing”) so that we could sit in the (whispered) “special customer section” upstairs. Said special section was “kid free” by her choosing and had nice looking male servers. She knew how to keep her gays happy.

Unfortunately, during one visit we had a particularly bad experience with a lot of variables in one equation: we ran into an unpleasant acquaintenance who is still an ass, we had a server that completely bungled our order and to top it all off, the substitute hostess sat us downstairs amongst the common folk by jamming us in a corner. I don’t know what they do in the Catskills, but no one puts Baby in a corner.

So I had a silent hissy fit and placed the restaurant on the SL for a bit. Tonight I decided to forgive and forget and Earl responded with a “Thank God”. Being Wednesday the restaurant was relatively quiet with no need for the selected section upstairs and the pace was much more relaxed. The food was delicious and the smiles were once again beaming.

When the co-owner/hostess came over to visit us, she earned two huge points from me. First of all, she offered to make me strawberry shortcake for dessert because she remembered that I enjoyed that. Yay! Secondly and most importantly, she commented on my mustache and how it looks awesome and that I should “keep it forever”.

Now that’s the way to this bear’s good side.

Ironically, it’s the second comment I’ve received on my mustache today, the first being at school from a younger, full-bearded student who nodded in my direction as we passed in the hall, “Nice bars, dude.” He sounded genuine about it.

When I mentioned to Earl that I rather appreciated the attention I get about my mustache, regardless of whom it’s from, he said “I’ve been telling you that since the last time you wore a mustache like that, but you don’t listen to me.”

I’m listening, I’m listening!

Vanity 1 Humility 0

Over the past month or so I’ve settled into a new routine for getting chores done around the house, keeping up with my school work and running household errands such as getting money from the ATM and grocery shopping. One thing that I’ve fallen in the habit of doing is watching television while working around the house. I have a set television schedule that I’m adhering to:

8:00 a.m. to 9:00 a.m. “The Nanny” on Lifetime (if I’m awake)
9:00 a.m. to 10:00 a.m. “The Golden Girls” on Lifetime (it’s a must in order to retain gay card)
10:00 a.m. to 10:30 a.m. “Leave It To Beaver” on TVland. Is it me or was Tony Dow quite hot in the later years of this show?
10:30 a.m. to 11:30 a.m. “I Love Lucy” on TVland.
11:30 a.m. to 12:30 p.m. “Green Acres” on TVland. I think this is one of my favorite shows of all time.

Naturally I’m keeping very busy with my chores and I just keep the television on for some noise in the house. I would never sit down just to watch television. No siree, I’d never do that. Especially when we’re running so low on bon bons.

Actually, I would, bon bons aside.. I’m loving “Green Acres” all over again and it’s my “musn’t miss” show of the day. The only vexing thing about it is that it’s during one of my classes on Tuesday and Thursday. I’ll have to remember that when I schedule my classes next semester. I’ve always loved the show and have always considered it to be one of my favorites, but there are so many subtle quirks of the show that I enjoy. How many other shows were there where they stopped dialog to let the credits roll? The little gags in the show are priceless. I just love it.

Thank goodness TVland hasn’t added “Bewitched” back to the schedule, I’d never get anything done.

While in Albany yesterday, Earl and i joined our friends for breakfast at a local diner. We are always fans of a good diner experience, so we were eager to check out this place we hadn’t been to before, the “76” diner on Route 9 in Latham.

The “76” is your typical diner from the mid 70s. It has that “diner car” feel on the inside, while the exterior is done up with big windows, lots of fake stone and colors reminiscent of a 1976 Ford Grenada. The five of us (Earl and I, Sean and Jeffrey and Evan) piled into a booth, eager to partake in some delicious and unhealthy diner breakfast food. Our waitress’ name was Arlene.

Arlene was in her late 50s or early 60s I’d say and filled to the brim with sass. I guess you could say she was a cross between Bea Arthur and Flo from “Alice”. She wasn’t abrasive in the least, but she had a certain boisterou charm to her that one only finds in a diner like the “76”. She was loud, she wrote in some strange shorthand on her well abused pad and she fired right back when we went a little outside of the norm: Earl wanted a burger with a fried egg on top (“what? A burger for breakfast? With an egg on top?”), Jeffrey wanted a diet pop with his omelet (“a diet coke. With your breakfast. Who’s ever heard of such a thing.”), Evan and I both had two sides of meat with our meal (she snickered when I told her I was feeling too healthy) and Evan changed his bread type from wheat to rye after she had already written down “weat”, which I translated to “wheat”.

Arlene threw our straws at us, sat down next to me as we piled more requests on her tiny pad and assured us that she was in a good mood as she put the filled plates on the table and let us sort it out for ourselves.

It was a great breakfast and Arlene certainly helped make it memorable. We look forward to going back again.

I’ve mentioned that my grandmother was a waitress in a similar type diner for many years. I don’t remember her in that role very well, but I’m sure that while not as boisterous as Arlene, she made the experience just as memorable for her customers.

Earl and I had parallel parked ourselves on the couch and were flipping through the channels when we stumbled upon “Grease: You’re The One That I Want.” Having not followed the show, I don’t know if tonight were the finals but if they were, the two people we watched audition for Sandy were just dreadful.

Anyways, before clicking away from the show, we noticed that a woman that had the same accent as Olivia Newton-John was one of the judges. Her eyes sparkled like the big ONJ’s but the person speaking had nothing else moving on her face. Her eyes moved side to side and her lips moved up and down. Apparently this shellacked creature had starred in Grease.

I asked Earl, “When was Joan Rivers in Grease?”

I mentioned a while back that through various bear channels I ran into an ex of an ex online. Back in 1990, based on the brief time I had to talk with him, I secretly thought he was a pretty nice guy but I naturally couldn’t say that since he was the current boyfriend of my ex. I mean, he moved in shortly after I moved out, and while I claimed washer and dryer rights and then finally took the units with me, he was nice enough to fold the laundry that I left there. I think that in itself speaks volumes. Anyways, he came to his senses a little while later, made my ex his ex and then went on to find his true love.

This weekend Earl and I met up with Sean and Jeffrey for the first time face to face. Their friend Evan joined us for the fun as well, as it was bear weekend in the fine city of Albany. We stayed at the Clarion Hotel, as the Motel 6 across the street was sold out. There were furry guys to be found at both hotels.

Earl and I had an absolutely smashing time. Just as I knew back in 1990, Sean is a really, really nice guy and the same goes for his husband Jeffrey. The five of us went to dinner at the Butcher Block in Albany, a lovely barn of a place that has a wonderful salad and soup bar and a comfortable, down-to-home ambience that I rather enjoyed. Earl commented that Sean and I carried on like we’d known each other (better) for years. Afterwards we headed to bear night where we hung out, got bumped around by all the guys and smattering of women milling around the place, downed a few beers and chatted with many people. There’s something about bear night that makes me a little more outgoing. Perhaps it’s the beer, maybe it’s all the woofiness. Either way it’s moderately innocent. I enjoyed chatting with some like minded guys and exchanging e-mail addresses.

Earl and I are really looking forward to getting together with Sean and Jeffrey again soon. We took the long way around to become friends, but it was a path well worth traveling.