Sending photos back and forth with your husband?
Priceless.
Warm.
It is another warm day here in lovely Central New York. We got some rain yesterday, just enough to put a damper on my bike riding plans, but it wasn’t a whole heck of a lot of rain. The lawns are still looking quite brown. This is sometimes how it goes.
The coveted spot in the shade was taken by some younger guys in a modified Honda Civic. They looked kind of smug. I decided to park in my routine spot. There is enough breeze to keep the Jeep somewhat cool. If the sweat starts to drip on my keyboard I’ll have to go for a ride sooner than expected.
I was hit with a round of exhaustion around 10:30 this morning so I went for a walk around the parking lot. The exercise and fresh air were both helpful. I normally go for a walk with co-workers in the morning and afternoon, but when you have back-to-back-to-back conference calls, it’s hard to plan these things accordingly.
The week is off to a good start and this makes me happy. I’m ready for the next adventure.
Saratoga Springs, N.Y.
So the secret destination for my birthday weekend was lovely Saratoga Springs, N.Y. The little city is about two hours to the east of us and actually not that far from where I work (when I go to the office). The weather was lovely, the downtown area was bustling with people and we had a very relaxing time.
We had a balcony and everything because Earl is a “Diamond Club” member. He spends a lot of time in hotel rooms.
We walked around Congress Park in the afternoon. I was the only one that dared to drink some water from one of the mineral springs. The water was naturally cold and had a tinge of sulfur in the taste. It reminded me of growing up but without the addition of Kool-Aid to the sulfur water.
Some ducks did a synchronized swim routine for us. I don’t think they’re paid to do that for the tourists or anything, they just kind of did it on their own.
After the duck show we posed for a family photo. My new bathing suit is in the Eddie Bauer bag to my left.
After trying some of the other spring water offerings (that didn’t have that sulfur taste), we relaxed in the air conditioned comfort of our suite at the new Hampton Inn for a bit until evening time. I took the opportunity to put on my new bathing suit and go for a swim. Earl watched to make sure I didn’t drown.
When we ventured out again we were approached by a 30-ish attractive looking bear of a guy who asked if we knew any good dining spots. Downtown Saratoga Springs has a lot of them so we recommended a couple and then we had a nice conversation with him for about 15 minutes. His name is Dan and he was in from Middletown for a School Bus Convention. I think he approached us because of our bearish ways and before you know it we were talking life stories and ended up inviting him to join us for dinner since he was in town alone. He decided not to join us but he wished me a happy birthday. I think we have a new friend in Dan. At first I thought he was Kevin from Danbury (they could be brothers) but he was Dan.
We ended up eating at Wheatfield’s at one of the sidewalk tables. It was a delicious meal, though the seating was a little crowded. It became extra crowded when a passerby decided to chat with the folks at the table next to us. To accomplish this he hung over the little fence between the dining area and the rest of the sidewalk. I thought Earl was going to offer him a bite of his pasta but he didn’t feel that cordial.
After the nice dinner we walked around downtown again and then headed back to the hotel for some cupcakes from Bettie’s Cakes before calling it a night.
This morning we headed home by back roads for a bit before jumping on the Thruway and reaching the Manor around 1:30. We have been relaxing ever since.
I did snap a photo of these very old looking power line towers that seem to have a unique flair.
My batteries are recharged. This next ride around the sun is off to a good start.
The Wanna Write Conundrum.
I don’t know if this is actually a conundrum, because technically a conundrum needs an answer in the form of a pun. This is definitely a “first world problem”, as I’m about to somewhat complain about one of my technological arrangements that I am currently pondering. I know, many should be so lucky to have these problems.
I am typing this blog entry on Jamie’s laptop whilst sitting in a hotel room in Saratoga Springs. I didn’t bring a laptop, because I have pretty much relegated my 2008 MacBook Pro to being my DJ computer. Adding the additional stuff necessary to make a vibrant blog would bog the older MBP down too much. Plus, I like the ability to travel with just my iPad. I don’t have to worry about backpacks and all that; my iPad is available to me just about anywhere and pretty much fits all my needs.
Except when I want to write something, especially if I didn’t bring along an external keyboard.
Apple purists have a fit when someone mentions using an external keyboard with an iPad. They say that Steve didn’t design it that way and if we really need a keyboard, we should buy a MacBook Air or something similarly sized if we dare stray outside of the Apple Reality Distortion field. The truth of the matter is, when you’re capable of typing at nearly 100 words per minute, you’re going to find the iPad virtual keyboard on the screen to be quite frustrating. I know that there’s videos of people typing at nearly their native speed on the virtual keyboard, but they are people with less than 5% body fat and therefore have fingers that are bony (and usually kind of ugly without the accompanying hand makeup). My fingers move quickly but I find the experience of typing a blog entry directly on an iPad to be vexing. Frustrating. Not worth the effort.
This is a shame because there are times that I really just want to write, whether it be on my blog, in my journal or just to get my thoughts down in a text document. It’s what I do.
Here’s where the first world problem comes in.
On my lunch hour I have the bluetooth keyboard that is stored in the Jeep. The iPad (and cover) are draped over the steering wheel, the seat goes back to its farthest position and the keyboard sits on my lap. The problem with this, for travel outside of the Jeep, is that I need to remember to bring that keyboard along in my suitcase. I barely remember to turn off the lights in the house let alone grab a keyboard from the Jeep. But I definitely don’t want to incur the expense of another computer (besides, that would NOT fly with my budget views nor my husband’s views).
So, for folks that have an iPad, do you think that I should get one of those cases that comes with a keyboard and makes it look pretty much like a Macbook Air? Do you have any experience with one of these keyboards? I tried one like that a while back, but it was made of plastic and the keyboard was tiny. From what I understand, the new versions of these have full-sized keyboards and are quite sturdy.
Any recommendations would be most welcome.
Now, back to our regularly scheduled weekend in Saratoga Springs. If have included a link to all my Instagram photos in the menu bar across the top of the blog. Erik helped out with getting that working.
Questioning.
I routinely hit Earl up with random questions, derived from the thoughts that are floating around my head at a given moment. For example, one of my friends on Facebook just posted a picture of a Red Velvet Cake that had been made from scratch.
This concerned me.
The reason that Red Velvet Cake concerns me is I can’t figure out how the cake becomes red. This is one of the reasons that I don’t naturally select Red Velvet Cake as a dessert delectable. I pondered this for a moment, randomly deducing that beet juice might be involved, when I decided to bark out.
“I don’t understand what makes a Red Velvet Cake red!” My voice might have been distressed sounding, because I had pondered this for a few moments and couldn’t come up with an answer. I didn’t want to resort to Google because I didn’t want to be bombarded with suggestions for connecting with Red Velvet Cake and it’s people on Google Plus.
Earl calmly looked up at me and gave me the mellow “What?” gaze.
“How do they make the Red Velvet Cake red?” My voice had ramped back a notch in distress.
“Do you really want to know?”
“Yes.”
Quite frankly, I was now terrified because I thought that maybe blood would be involved and that just didn’t seem, well, I don’t know, healthy. Or American. Maybe it would be more American than healthy if there was blood involved but I didn’t want to get wrapped up in a political debate.
“They burn the chocolate.”
“Red Velvet Cake is chocolate?”
“Yes.”
He went back to watching a political campaign ad, leaving me to ponder why anyone would want to burn a perfectly good piece of chocolate just to make it red.
44.
So the other day Earl mentioned that one of his favorite photos of me is from my birthday back in 1997. It’s hard to believe that it has been 15 years since I was 29. Time sure flies by fast.
Today I turn 44. Life is good, I’m quite content and I’m very happy. Last night, under a slight(?) influence of alcohol, I told the world via Facebook how much I love my life, my husband, my work and the whatnot. I was accused of being sappy. You should see how I handle my beer in person. It’s a hoot.
Yesterday I received an official itinerary in my email.
Events have been planned for the weekend, including going away somewhere. I don’t know where we are going. I just know that I need to pack a bag, the travel time can be measured in multiple hours and that there is an entry on the official itinerary labeled “Exploration”. Sounds like fun!
Without sounding sappy, as I’m not influenced by alcohol since I haven’t drank my breakfast yet, folks are absolutely right when they say “it gets better.” Life does get better, and turning 44 years old is something that I’m proud of.
Awesome.
I am having an awesome day. I’m at the office today, things are going well and I am getting things done. I have a clear calendar for the afternoon (but please don’t tell anyone).
The weather is gorgeous. Nothing but sun. Very warm. It’s so beautiful that right after I finish this blog entry, I am going to go for a drive for the rest of my lunch hour and enjoy the foothills of the Adirondacks. Even though I have the coveted shady spot in the parking lot.
I feel so awesome I’m going to let someone else use the coveted spot today.
It’s Just Not Enough.
If you were to look in our kitchen windows right now (which would actually be kind of creepy), you’d see two middle-aged bears dancing to Taylor Dayne’s “Can’t Get Enough Of Your Love” from 1993.
The Jump.
About 20 years ago I worked for an organization that is now called “The Arc.” Back then it was still called The Association for Retarded Citizens, a name that I didn’t really care for because the word “retarded” has such negative connotations to it. In fact, I have to hold back on hostile retaliatory impulses when I hear someone use the word “retarded”. It’s such an awful word.
Back to my point.
While working at The Arc, my last position with the organization was “Community Residence Coordinator.” Basically, I was responsible for the staff, facilities and physical plant for a cluster of group homes. My co-supervisor, a wonderful woman by the name of Tammy, was responsible for the mental and physical well-being of the residents (whom I still refer to as “the folks”). She was much like a case-worker. Tammy helped the folks formulate reasonable goals for achievement and made sure that they were comfortable in the home that I supervised.
Tammy was very outgoing. We could sit in our shared office space and chat for hours. Both of us had risen through the ranks, having both been Residence Managers (we managed one residence for one 35 hour shift per week) before the supervisory we held together. I enjoyed talking with Tammy because she was so well-spoken. She could conduct case review meetings with ease; I always stammered and stuttered when speaking in front of the staff during weekly staff meetings. It wasn’t a lack of confidence, it was a lack of comfort on my behalf. I just don’t like interacting with other people.
I wanted to be more outgoing and be more like other people: at ease in social situations, part of the crowd, banging empty shot glasses down on the bar when everyone was half-cocked during a night on the town. But the truth of the matter is, I’m not really wired that way. I like being part of a big group gathering when I can watch from the outside. I’m not afraid. I’m not shy. I just don’t like being in that type of space. I can do it, but it’s not what I like the most. It’s kind of like the bar scenario; I liked being in a bar best when I was alone or with Earl in the DJ booth, contributing to the party with my DJing skills from my own little corner.
I don’t know if Tammy was a partier or not. I suspect she may have been. We did talk about skydiving once and she went ahead and did it. She jumped from a hot-air balloon and had a hell of a time. There was a part of me that wanted to do that. Not for the thrill of doing it or the rush of wind blowing by my face or the sense of flying through the air. I wanted to skydive so that I could prove to the world that I could do it. Even though I really wanted to be just reading a book or in my “alone space”, I would show everyone that I was just as capable as they were at doing wild, adventurous, outgoing things. People always loved the outgoing people. I wanted to be loved in that way. That’s one of the reasons I was a radio DJ for a while. It would make me seem outgoing. It would make me seem to be part of the world. I didn’t care about being known. Truth of the matter is that I would have been just as content doing the behind the scenes work for the station.
I did end up bungee jumping at the county fair. That was my way of proving that I could come out of my corner and seek out adrenaline rushes and be outgoing and be spontaneous and do crazy things. When I finally got my self settled on the ground after that bungee jump, I felt the sense of accomplishment that I thought I would because I had proven to the world (and in fact, on the radio) that I had done just that. I didn’t feel fulfilled from the rush of adrenaline, I felt that I had completed what was expected of me. I had done something outgoing.
Most gay men surround themselves with lots of people. They have friends, they have lovers, they have friends with benefits. All of that is well and good, for them. I’m wired differently. I like my smaller circles. I would rather have a couple of very trusted friends over a whole gaggle of people that are doing their thing in their world together. Try as I might, that just doesn’t fit. I have a husband that gets me most of the time, though I probably frustrate the hell out of him some of the time. My first reaction to a group gathering seems to be negative. I need to stop that knee jerk reaction, that’s a fault of mine. I just need a few minutes to process a situation before jumping into it. I’m going to work on that for my next revolutionary ride around the sun.
Now I’m going to go sit in the corner and read a good book (well, an iPad version of a book) for the rest of my lunch hour. It’s a great way to recharge.
