Ponderings and Musings

Earl and I are settling in for the night after an very enjoyable Thanksgiving dinner. My father and stepmother are on their way home after a wonderful day of food, drinks and conversation. I spoke with my mother this morning, I hope to speak with my sister and her boyfriend later tonight. After I finish this blog entry, Earl and I are going to watch the episode “Samantha’s Thanksgiving To Remember” from the fourth season of Bewitched. It’s one of my favorites.

The picture above is from last year’s Thanksgiving feast and I must admit it’s one of my favorite photos ever of Earl and I.

I have so much to be thankful for. It’s been a decade and the passage of time has solidified the fact that I have found my true love in my best friend. I’m also thankful and grateful for my family and that includes every member of the clan. I wish every gay couple could be as accepted by their families as Earl and I are. Thank you.

I’m also thankful for our friends, especially Tim and Steve and Tim & Gordon in Wyoming, and the folks we’ve had the opportunity to meet this past year, including the guys in Buffalo, Thom in Va., Karl & Randy and Tom & Lee in Mass. I’m even thankful for the internet, for we wouldn’t have met the aforementioned guys, as well as those we hope to meet in 2007.

I think the wine is controlling what I type on the keyboard right now, as this is starting to sound like a loopy awards acceptance speech. I suppose it’s better than the sobs of joy in the mashed potatoes that I’ve encountered in the past.

There’s a bright future ahead and I’m thankful for that too.

Earl began our Thanksgiving feast preparations tonight by starting out with the cole slaw. He likes to make cole slaw from scratch, mixing various spices, mayos and vinegars with the cabbage and carrots. I usually watch from the sidelines, providing support as taster and kitchen help by cleaning up behind him. Occasionally I recite the line “cook’s not a t’all ‘appy!”. Despite his protests I believe he secretly enjoys the comedy.

After stirring the vat of cabbage and accessories he had me test. I looked at him and told him “it needs more arm.” This is a little inside joke we have. Picture it, September 1999. The little mini-mall in the former “Woolworth’s #1” in the downtown area. We have a fast food restaurant. I’m manager of the store and we have three employees. First up is whom we call “Gina Lolabrigitta”, pronounced as Brett Somers did on Match Game, and the hardest worker of the lot. A single mother at age 22, Gina worked hard and was easily depended on. Next up we have Jimmy, a cast off from the radio station I had worked at who said “thank you” regardless of the situation and spoke like Barbara Eden’s ‘Jeannie’ as he refused to use contractions. And lastly we have Josie, a 72 year old Italian woman who had worked in the aforementioned Woolworth’s as a waitress since she was 16 years old. They couldn’t get her out of the store when it closed, so we just hired her on, sort of like a light fixture. She was just there.

We were also shocked to discover that she liked to stir homemade cole slaw with her arm.

This is apparently a tradition in fast food restaurants and diners across our fine land. Earl spun tales of his days as a teen working at a local diner with a big Greek cook stirring the potato salad with his arm. I’ve seen waitresses stir iced tea and kool-aid with their hands, so I don’t know why I was surprised at Josie’s choice of kitchen wizardry.

Earl and I decided to pass on that secret ingredient for tomorrow’s side dish. But it’s always fun to reminisce about the good ol’ days.

Here’s an odd threesome for you to envision. Kelly Ripa, Rosie O’Donnell and Clay Aiken. How’s that for a mental picture? I find the latest cat fight in Hollywood to be a little interesting on several levels. Please keep in mind that I’m a fan of Rosie’s (especially her charity work, though I do enjoy her humor as well).

Last Friday, Clay Aiken was a guest host on Regis & Kathie Lee Kelly. (The last time I watched that show Kathie Lee was still Kathie Lee Johnson. Maybe not, maybe that was “Name That Tune”.) Anyways, this new chick Kelly, who isn’t Kathie Lee, was pretty much hogging the whole show, which could be her right as her name is in lights and Clay Aiken was just a guest host, but there’s room for debate there.

Anyways, Clay and Kelly were interviewing some actor in some movie about something and Kelly basically kept interrupting Clay when he was trying to ask a question. Long story short, Clay put his hand over Kelly’s mouth to shut her up and that is bad, apparently. I wonder how she would have reacted to a sock, but I digress. I don’t know who the genius was that thought Clay Aiken would be a terrific fill in for Regis Philbin, but perhaps I was missing something there as well. Health care worker to reality show contestant to hyperfamous singer to has-been to talk show host? The last couple of times I’ve seen Clay on television he’s been exceedingly smug, apparently medicated in some way and had shockingly awful hair.

La Kelly made the remark that we don’t put our hand over her mouth, especially since she didn’t know where that hand has been.

Now I’m not the brightest bulb in the world nor am the most sensitive clod on the face of the planet, but for some reason Rosie O’Donnell remarked on The View that she found her comment about his hand to be a homophobic remark. My eyebrows went up because as far as I know, Clay isn’t gay (wink, wink, wink). (wink, wink). No really, he’s not gay. (Wink, wink). Now stop it, he’s not gay (wink wink). So while Rosie is complaining about Kelly’s alleged homophobic remark to Clay, I’m wondering about Rosie’s outing of Clay, though he’s not gay (wink, wink).

So Ripa pulls a ripper and calls into The View, live on the air, and basically scolds Rosie for accusing her of a homophobic comment that wasn’t to a man that allegedly isn’t. And now it’s all over the blogs and the forums and whatnot.

I wish I could say that I couldn’t care less, but that obviously isn’t true because I’ve spent 10 minutes typing about it.

Earl and I are back home after the weekend in Boston. You’d think a big geek like myself would remember to bring along the AC adapter for his PowerBook, but no, I forgot it and the battery went dead last night right after I uploaded the pictures to yesterday’s entry. So we were completely without computing capabilities for almost a full 24 hours.

I did not experience the full withdrawal symptoms I thought I was going to. I did get a little sweaty though.

Last night we ended up going to Bertucci’s for dinner and then walking around the South End a bit. After a brief “disco nap”, we took the T to Haymarket and walked around Quincy Market and picked up some dessert and did some people watching. I love to people watch. People are so fascinating, even when they’re not trying to be fascinating. We then walked through Downtown Crossing and went to The Alley, where we ran into a couple that I knew one half from years and years ago. (How’s that for sentence structure?) He remembered me from my club DJ days and I remembered him from the same so we chatted a bit and hung out with his husband and he (they’re legally married – yay Massachusetts!). His partner is a fireman on the South Shore. The conversation was interesting. The eye candy was eyepopping and the drinks were good. I limited myself to one beer and then water or diet soda so that I could make the walk back to the hotel without being one of those street drunks.

This morning we did some obligatory roadgeeking by driving several different ways through the Big Dig before heading home. There is still one section closed and I believe it’s where the couple was killed several months ago when the ceiling literally came down on their car. I took a few back roads getting home, driving along Route 2 to Leominster and then driving south through Worcester and picking up the MassPike there. By the time we were reaching home it was snowing, but nothing major.

Tomorrow kicks off a week of on-call and the start of the crazy holiday schedule. I’m actually looking forward to it all.

The story is the same across the country. People are camping out so they can get a Playstation 3. If I were more of a geek, I’d do the same thing.

I commend these folks on their perserverance.

Some days it’s good to stay quiet and just listen. Today is one of those days.

I finally gave in and went to the doctor’s today for a small rash I’ve had on my forehead for the past couple of months. I know, I should have gone to the doctor sooner but the rash wasn’t spreading, wasn’t getting worse and it wasn’t impeding my looks so I was just dealing with it.

I hate going to the doctor’s, despite the fact that our family doctor is very nice and not bad to look at in all his yummy scruffiness. I mean, who likes going to the doctor? At age 38 though, I suppose it’s the responsible thing to do so I even made an appointment for my yearly physical that’s a year too late. At least I’m making an effort.

One thing that surprised me was when he told me blood pressure was “excellent” at 130/78. During the last couple of visits, over a year ago, he sort of scolded me for high blood pressure (158/98) and was urging for a physical then, but I ignored him and just avoided going. Today he pointed out that I was almost 35 pounds heavier a year ago (I didn’t realize I had lost that much weight) and that was a good thing. I gave myself a mental pat on the back.

All this healthy good news makes me yearn to jump on the bike and go for a ride. I always feel the need to go cycling between the middle of November and the middle of February, then I sort of lose interest when the weather is actually conducive to riding my bike.

So now I have a little cream to put on the little rash over my eye. I have a physical in December and he’s going to set up an appointment with a dermotologist just to make sure I don’t have anything else going on. He seemed particularly interested in the freckles on my head, I reminded him that he wouldn’t even know they were there if I wasn’t bald and then I assured him that I’m often well basted in sunscreen or at least I keep my head covered with a hat as appropriate.

It looks like I’m going to be around for a while longer.

I rarely do these meme things but today I figured what the heck. Courtesy of Karl and The Persian Guy

A is for Age: 38
B is for Beer of choice: Michelob Ultra. I have a figure to maintain.
C is for Career: Once in working with the disabled, then I was a radio DJ and program director, currently in IT, I hope to become a traffic engineer.
D is for favorite Drink: Unsweetened iced tea.
E is for Essential item I use everyday: Mach III over my head
F is for Favorite song at the moment: “Jump (Extended Mix)”, Madonna.
G is for favorite Game: “Let me In, Let Me Out!” with our cat.
H is for Hometown: Little tiny hamlet of Richland, New York.
I is for Instruments I play: Tuba. Some piano. Some other brass instruments a little bit.
J is for favorite Juice: OJ
K is for Kids: None. Once upon a time Earl and I were going to adopt but never did.
L is for Last kiss: 6:30 this morning.
M is for Marriage: Absolutely, bring it on Governor Elect Elliot Spitzer.
N is for Name of my best friend: My partner Earl.
O is for Overnight Hospital stays: Too many to count. I like to think of them as bionics upgrades.
P is for Phobias: I used to wig out about elevators but not anymore.
Q is for Quote: “Life is such a sweet insanity”, Roberta Flack, theme from The Hogan Family.
R is for biggest Regret: Learn, don’t regret.
S is for Self confidence: I’m working on it. By 38 you’d think it’d fully be here by now.
T is for Time I wake up: Variable depending on my work schedule.
U is for Underwear: Tighty-whiteys or boxers or none. Depends on my mood.
V is for Vegetable I love: I love all vegetables!
W is for Worst habit: Losing my temper and saying stupid things.
X is for X-rays I’ve had: Oh lots. I’m a vogue cover model of the “inside out” set.
Y is for Yummy food I make: Chocolate chip coookies courtesy of my grandmother’s recipe
Z is for Zodiac: Cancer.

Our cat Tom is a rebel. He watched me last night as I cleaned the house from top to bottom. Always wary of the vacuum cleaner, he sits perched on the back of the couch or on the bed and keeps watch on the proceedings of cleaning the house. Apparently he didn’t like last night’s proceedings because this morning I watched him fling cat litter out of his box all over the floor, and I just know it was on purpose, and I now he’s busying himself by eating half a nugget of kibble and spitting the rest on the floor.

I think he thinks he’s funny.

Tonight after class I’ll have to chase him around with the vacuum cleaner. Calm down, I’m kidding. I’ll chase Earl instead.

This morning while eating breakfast, I saw Tom go scurrying across the kitchen floor and tear into the dining room at high speed. He appeared to be in pursuit of something. Turns out he was chasing something across the floor.

It was a dust bunny.

Since I had shoveled a space for myself at the kitchen table just moments before, I figured that the universe was giving me not-so-subtle hints that we needed to clean the house.

I don’t know what we were thinking three years ago. “Let’s buy a house twice the size of the old one, and to keep it interesting, let’s leave the housekeeper behind!” What the hell was I thinking. It’s almost as ludicrous as having a performance “Sleeping Beauty” next to the service porch of the Brady house.

Granted, I often referred to our old housekeeper as Agnes Destructo and I often wondered if she was going to go up in flames from smoking while spraying bleach as an air freshener, but at least the house looked good.

So tonight I dusted and swiffered and sucked up everything in sight. By the way, can someone please tell me the purpose of the hole with a moveable cover in the vacuum cleaner hose? What is the purpose of that? To reduce the amount of suction? “My God, I’ve sucked up the cat, better release the pressure.” I don’t think so. I find it annoying and worthy of a swath of duct tape.

Our county has a crazy code that every home built after 1995 must have a telephone jack in each room. I guess the geniuses had never heard of a cordless phone getup before and decided they were doing the public service a favor. You know what they should have done? Required central vacuum systems in every home.

I was a spoiled little cub growing up. My grandparents had a beautiful house next door to our mobile home. Grandma would bake cookies or some other good-farm-wife inspired dessert weekday afternoons and I would trot over after getting off the bus to catch “Bewitched” and “I Dream of Jeannie”, eat some cookies, drink some milk and hang out with Grams as she did her household chores. Their house was so big it had two central vacuum systems (one at each end). Gram never lugged around a vacuum cleaner canister get up, getting all twisted in the cord and emptying the bag after every room because of all the dust she sucked up. No, she had a hose and a wand that she plugged into ports strategically located throughout the house. No muss, no fuss. When my dad built our house a few years later, it had a central vacuum system. Again, no muss, no fuss.

Why the hell doesn’t this house that’s less than ten years old have such a thing? I have a good mind to buy one and put one in myself. Some pipe, some drilling, a little luck and voila, instant domestic bliss. Why get a sock stuck in the wand with a hole when you can lodge it nice and tight in some dark recess of a wall?

Let’s face it, if I have the energy to install a central vacuum system then I must certainly have the energy to clean the house the old fashioned way. By witchcraft.

I keep telling Earl that I’m going to hire a housekeeper for this house. His only requirement is that they’re male, naked and work after hours.

Sounds good to me.