Bruiser....my true love

Ok, I admit it....much as I tried not to, I had a favorite dog. I blogged once about how I ultimately ended up with three Jack Russel Terriers when I simply wanted 'a dog'. My three boys were Bruiser, Spike and Skippy.



Skippy, Bruiser and Spike.....Bruiser was usually in the middle of everything.

When we first got the dogs, we got three because there were three of us and in Jim's mind, we each needed our own dog. Ultimately to the animal, ownership means nothing, and I knew that at the time, but because Jim had conceded and let me have a dog, I was not about to argue that point with him. So when he decided we needed to pair up each dog with one of us, I went along with it (in theory.)

I think I showed a bit of favoritism when I first saw the puppies because Bruiser had the most color on him and I thought he was very handsome. So Jim assumed I wanted Bruiser but when he said we each had to choose one, I, trying NOT to play favorites right away, said it didnt' matter to me, so he took Bruiser. Try as he might, Jim never quite convinced Bruiser that I was not 'daddy', and from the get-go, Bruiser followed me around like a.....well like a puppy. I ended up with Spike as my dog and Skippy as George's dog. (And like I said, to all of them, they belonged to me....they adore(d) George but it was me that they respected and looked to for everything.)

Bruiser was scared of me because I was the disciplinarian and he was incredibly sensitive.....but Bruiser was my constant companion. He was the biggest of the three and pushier to both the food and attention. It's hard not to play favorites when one is always there at your side.....and Bruiser was always there. I sat down and he was immediately in my lap. In the mornings at the kitchen table Bruiser hopped up in my arms and flopped over upside down on his back while I held him....ears flapping towards the ground. That dog would sometimes fall asleep in that position as I read the paper and absent-mindedly petted him.

Directly at my side as usual.....


His usual spot....and stop looking at my fat thigh!!!!


Bruiser was quirky. At one point when he was about 2 years old, he suddenly decided that he was no longer going to sleep in bed at night with us. He would stay in bed till just before the lights went out, then would jump off and sleep on a nearbye chair. No amount of coaxing would keep him in that bed and he'd shake like he was terrified if we tried. If I was home during the day, he'd sleep on the bed with me anytime....but at night, forget it. (I think I finally realized a few years later I must've inadvertantly rolled over and hit him in the middle of the night and scared him silly.)

When George and I moved out on our own, Bruiser still wouldn't sleep in bed at night. But he developed in the last few years one of the most endearing things I've ever heard an animal do. He went to bed with us at night when the lights went off and would stay for awhile. He would snuggle up next to me with his rear in my armpit and my arm resting on him. I would fall asleep with him there and as SOON as I was asleep, he'd be off the bed. I fall asleep extremely quickly and George told me he was usually still awake when Bruiser left, but I would never see it. I think he waited until my breathing changed to sleep breathing, then would leave.


All I knew was that every night he snuggled up with me as I went to sleep and brought me a sense of peace, calm and love each night.


Bruiser was not a brainy boy....Spike got all the brains in the family. Instead, Bruiser got the heart.....he had a huge heart and I loved him deeply....I still do. I'm writing about him today partially because on my walk with Skippy this morning, my thoughts, as they often do, drifted to Bruiser and I started to cry because I missed him so much. When I think about him now, the thoughts are all about how wonderful he was, but they also go directly to how much I still miss him.

When he died (3 1/2 years ago now) he left an empty spot in my heart and at my side, literally. I very quickly realized that as we watched TV at night sitting on the bed, Bruiser had always been at my side, with Skippy closer to my knees and Spike towards my feet. When Bruiser died, the other two refused to take his spot....and stayed exactly where they were when he was alive. I'd pull Spike up next to me, and he would be totally uncomfortable there (despite being very sweet himself) and would move back to my feet and leave my side empty. Skippy did the same. Three years later and Skippy still refuses to sit at my side. It's as if they both simply knew that Bruiser belonged there and always would. As much as I loved Spike and still love Skippy....they were right.

Bruiser was my favorite and I don't think I'll ever stop missing him. He captured my heart by giving me his. (and I'm bawling like a baby yet again right now.)

The Government Shuffle.....

So I just got up from my desk to run downstairs to buy a diet coke at the little convenience store within the building.

My calf muscle had really stiffened up and my opposite thigh is also sore from over-compensating for the calf muscle, so I was limping very slowly. As I came back around a corner, I saw two black women about 10 steps ahead, doing the 'government shuffle'.

(that is the walk that I noticed a LOT of governement workers often do back before I got a quasi-govt job....an incredibly slow shuffle like it's an effort to put one foot ahead of the other. It plays into very bad stereotypes about government workers being lazy and having nothing to do.....not generally true btw.)

Despite being twice hobbled and stiff....I STILL caught up to these ladies and had to slow down! OMG....and it's not like it was two fat old ladies....they were both rail-thin, but moving at that snail-paced walk.

It was too funny.

My 'tragic' commute

I started a job with USPS Headquarters last October.....which is at L'enfant plaza downtown, two buildings over from where I worked for 15 years (the old DOT building.) I'd been a contractor with Postal for 2 1/2 year prior to being hired there. At that time, I worked in Chantilly, but came downtown to Headquarters 1-2 times a week. I actually preferred being downtown because that is literally a 5-10 minute drive (10 when there is traffic) from Clarendon where I live.

Working in Chantilly and a 35-45 minute drive out there was my excuse for buying the Solstice (convertible 2-seater.)

When I got the job here permanently, my commute went from 35-45 minutes to 5 minutes....but then there is parking. Garages around here cost about $300 a month, and taking the subway meant adding 30 minutes to the commute. However, I found out that you can park at East Potomac Park (Haines Point) for free if you get there early enough each day. After you park, you then have to walk over the Case bridge which goes over a waterway, then the fishmarket before coming out near Postal. It's normally a very pleasant, 20 minute walk and is one way that I get some exercise. Free parking and forced pleasant exercise is hard to beat.

Two nights ago, I left work at 4pm when my contact in Chantilly told me it was storming there....which normally means I have 20 minutes or more before it starts downtown. I was out the door in < 5 minutes, and it had just barely started to sprinkle. I had an umbrella and still thought I could miss the brunt of the storm, so I started jogging, slowly and carefully since I'm not in great shape, and jogged to the bridge. (about 1/5th of the entire distance to my car.) By this time the rain was coming down and I was hearing thunder in the distance, but I still thought I was fine. I stopped and walked up the ramp to get on the bridge. In that 1 minute getting up there, the rain turned torrential and the wind started to blow like crazy. I started to jog again, took two steps and pulled my calf muscle badly...DAMN! I limped another 40-50 feet and the wind picked up so much that I was soaked and could barely hang onto the umbrella....so I struggled for a couple of minutes trying to get it down and just live with being soaked the rest of the way. By this time the wind is so strong that I could barely move in a straight line. I manage to get the umbrella down (after almost abandoning it entirely) and am limping forward when suddenly the wind whips me around, then grabs my brand new $600 eyeglasses, rips them off my face and tosses them over the bridge! And this is a highway bridge so it is quite high. It happened so fast I didn't even have time to react, and could only watch helplessly.

Now at this point, I was not yet over the water, but was very close to it....and just below was a combination of about 7 different fish market roofs, water all around, a road, and part of the dock. And it was raining SO hard that I lost sight of the glasses after about 2 seconds...they blended into the rain (not to mention that I'm near sighted anyhow.) All I saw was their general direction. With the wind also whipping all over the place, they could've gone anywhere, or landed, THEN been blown anywhere.

At this point, I'm injured, absolutely drenched, have lost the only expensive pair of glasses I've ever owned and my first new pair in 10 years (and the only pair I've ever gotten lots of compliments on), am being whipped all over, can see lots of lightening and thunder, although not yet close, and was about 1/3 of the way to the car. I had to make a quick call....continue to the car so I can get home and dry, or go back to postal where I can sit like a drowned rat until the storm passes. Despite my fear of the storm, I continued limping towards my car....and discovered fairly quickly that I'd also ripped a fingernail halfway off when struggling with my umbrella.....so I'm injured twice.

That was the longest normally-20 minute walk ever. By the time I got to my car, I was almost hyperventilating from fear of being struck by lightning or flying trees. I couldn't move past a slow limp. I think I've been dryer coming directly out of the shower than I was from this rain. I toss the soaking back pack in the car and drive home with my sunglasses on (prescription) during a storm. Final injustice was that I got home and discovered that my backpack had run and there was blue ink all over my tan seats....so now my convertible has stained seats.

It was the commute-from-hell day. As I'm emptying my soaking backpack, I also see that my blackberry isn't working (it came back fine after drying out), my Ipod isn't working....still isn't, and my phone is drenched, but at least still working. Everything else was ruined.

So this stupid storm possibly cost me well over $1000 for new glasses and a new Ipod and whatever we need to do with the stained seats....not to mention 2 injuries. I was not a happy camper.

I had Sax rehearsal that night about 2 hours later after the storm had settled into a steady rain, and I left early so I could stop by the fish market below the bridge and see if there was any hope at all of recovering the glasses. No way.....the only way I could ever hope to find them would be to spot them from the bridge. I gave myself a .02% chance and essentially declared them lost and went to rehearsal.

My dear friend Chad also arrived early with me and listened to my whole saga of the day. He was SO sweet, sympathetic, and when I finished he correctly declared 'you need a hug!'. And Chad knows how to give a good hug (and is quite beautiful himself....good for a cheap thrill anytime!) So he made me feel so much more calm after I got it off my chest and got his hug.

And he listened to all that and gave me his time before even telling me his own very exciting news (his new Sax he'd just bought.) What a selfless, sweet thing to do! He'll probably never read this but regardless, thanks Chad.....I really needed you that night!

No the story doesn't quite end there (sorry.) The next day I parked in a garage near work that I use in bad weather, because of my injured leg. About 10am it occurred to me that I hadn't yet gone onto the bridge and looked over the edge just to see if by some miracle I could spot the glasses. This was my .02% chance, but I have this thing.....I never lose anything. Well, let's put it this way...I never misplace anything because I can always find it quickly.....ask George as I'm always finding his things he loses too. And when I do misplace things, I become very single-minded about finding it. So even though I knew there was almost no hope, I had to try anyhow.

So I limped back to the bridge....found the approximate spot where it happened (not sure at all I was actually IN the right spot) and started searching the roofs and ground below the bridge. Now this bridge is at least 5 stories to the ground. But I'm very methodical...so I spent 15 minutes looking everywhere....studying things on the ground where they might've been caught, looking over the roofs....everywhere. Nothing. I tried different angles, nothing. Finally I gave up, took 10 steps and looked again (I'm like a dog with a bone....). To my absolute shock, I spotted them on the roof of one of the buildings. I was about 90% certain it was glasses and 85% certain it was mine (who else throws glasses off a bridge?) So I went down to the fish market, found a manager who took me up on the roof.

There they were! Bent out of shape and missing a lens (which I only noticed later), but to my shock and amazement, back in my hands again after being thrown off a bridge.

It was a good thing I found them...I had been planning to simply buy another pair of the exact same glasses, but instead took them to Lens crafters to see if they could be salvaged. I found out that even though I got them in February, that model was no longer available at all, so the frames couldn't be fixed. Even though it was more than their 90 day policy, they replaced them for 50% of the cost. If I hadn't found the glasses, I would've been buying a whole new pair for full price. And since it was different, cheaper frames, it actually only cost me $135.

I'm still disappointed because I don't think I like these glasses as well, but I'm thankful that the whole saga didn't turn out worse than it could've.

My thought for the final 2/3 of that nightmare walk.....limping along as fast as I could move praying that I would not be struck by lightening....kept drifting to, 'how ironic that I find out George doe NOT have a brain tumor and won't leaving me alone in 6 months, only for me to be struck by lightening to leave George alone two days later.'

Although I'm really not very religious....I found myself praying for the 2nd time in the last week, and thanking him (or her) afterward.

My big scare

I was avoiding writing about this topic for the last month....partially out of superstition and partially out of self-preservation.

About 6 weeks ago I told George that he needed to go to the doctor to have his eye checked out. It had been bloodshot in the same place for quite awhile by then...I wasn't sure, but think it was for more than a month before that. I had noticed him removing his glasses alot (which he's always done) then rubbing his eye, so I thought perhaps he was causing it to be bloodshot. For a few weeks I tried to catch him and stop it unsuccessfully (always saw it too late.) Finally I decided his eye was infected or something and insisted he go to the doctor.

As expected, his doctor sent him to an Opthamologist. The night of that appt I was expecting him to come home and tell me it was infected and he had a prescription or something to handle it. Instead, that guy did a thorough exam, told him he wasn't sure what it was but that his right eye appeared to be protruding. He referred him to a second Opthamologist at GW (they have a dept there.) This started us getting nervous as I found it very odd that one Opthamologist refers you to another without any reason why.

Another week later and he had the appt with the 2nd guy. He got another thorough exam and another 'nothing definite', but the guy told him that there was something causing his eye to be pushed out from behind. He told him there were two possibilities...first it could be a thyroid problem although it would usually be both eyes, not just one. 2nd was that there was a mass behind his eye pushing it forward. So he scheduled an MRI.....3 WEEKS from that date was the first we could get.

Both of us were stunned, and totally freaked out for about 24 hours. Then we talked to his sister and told her about it, and she told us that his mother has thyroid problems and has been on medication for several years for it.

For the next three weeks (and your party was during this time Matt...which may well explain some things) we were on hold. We talked about it a little bit, but both of us knew that there was no point in sitting around dwelling on possibilities, so we mostly avoided the subject in any detail.

I went into denial....every time I started to think about it my thoughts went immediately to him dying and leaving me alone....and I was terrified by that thought. Having the knowledge that his mother had a history of thyroid problems allowed both of us to 'mostly' ignore it and get on with things. But thyroid??! That just sounded so implausible that I couldn't quite convince myself that's all it was.

Then the day of the MRI FINALLY arrived, and he comes home that night telling me they screwed up and he didn't have it. I'd been managing ok for 3 weeks until that moment, where I totally lost it because I became convinced we'd have to wait ANOTHER 3 weeks for their screwup. Although he had it the next day, that night made me realize how much this really was affecting me in every way. I'd been SOOO emotional recently over little things, freaking out easily...just not being me. I wasn't associating it with this directly until that moment.

Yesterday was results day finally.....at least 6 weeks after we initially went to the doctor. The first thing the tech tells us is 'oh, your thyroid is fine, tests were negative.' And nothing about the MRI, so we both had a freakout moment again. But she didn't say more and proceeded to do a bunch of tests again. Eventually we found out that the MRI was also clear.....so my honey is not going to die immediately from a brain tumor.

We still dont' know for sure what it is, but the doctor wasn't worried and still thinks it's probably thyroid-related.

Neither of us have ever been so relieved in our lives. I don't know if he was more scared, or I was. All I know is, I've never been through anything that bad before....and it's over finally.

I'm not a religious person at all. But I prayed my thanks to God anyhow and apologized for my doubt....thanking him for rewarding us anyhow.

Sex

Sex.....such a fun thing to do....such a tough thing to talk about.

Ok for those of you THOUSANDS of Swoper's Ramblings followers who don't know...I'm gay. On the Kinsey scale, I'm a very strong 5. That means it's only men for me, and although the thought of touching a woman doesn't repulse me....it sure don't do anything for me either.

Now I think I realized I was gay for sure in high school when 'that phase' I'd read about being normal for teenage boys....the whole 'being atracted to other boys' thing.....didn't go away as I expected. It's sort of amazing that I turned out fairly 'normal' since my expert reading on being gay came from Everything youu ever Wanted to know about Sex but were afraid to ask. With a title like that, they obviously must know, so I acc! So the descriptions of being gay were completely disgusting and false, but were all I knew. I was very attracted to one of my best friends in high school, but never pursued it at all....his name was Tim Rice (no not THE Tim Rice.) He may well have been gay, but I was never sure. But sex didn't happen in high school in my circles. I was one of the 'smart kids'....we did no drugs or alcohol, didn't have sex with each other, and didn't even have boy or girlfriends, prayed together, etc...a group of about 10-15 of us. We had parties and hung out together. I wasn't out, nor was anyone else...it was not discussed.

In college, still a virgin, I started to realize I was already behind everyone else....suddenly sex was happening, just not to me. I was still not out, and at the end of my first year fell in love with my roommate for the coming year.....not good. I wasted about 2 years in love with him, hoping and praying it was mutual. I told him I was gay and he accepted it, then never discussed it again. Eventually I told him I was 'attracted' to him and he said 'fine' then ignored that too. Eventually I realized that he simply couldn't deal with it and elected to ignore that it existed....(and I'm still convinced that he was gay too. ) I was scarred by the incident....and scared to put myself out there again. I was starting to come out to some friends, but throughout 4 years of college, still was a virgin.

I tried to become gay after college....I wanted to meet someone, fall in love and live my life with them.....yet I was a fat, scared virgin.

So I was almost 30 years old before I had sex with anyone other than my right hand (we ALWAYS had a good relationship...and still do :). I'd given up on it happening and thought I had accepted being alone for the rest of my life. So naturally, I met Jim and George, had sex and have ever since. Problem is, they are IT for my partners....and really, George is it as Jim and I stopped having sex in the first year together.

When I split from Jim and George I went through an awkward time of not knowing what I wanted out of life.....George was ready to jump with me, and it was unexpected, so I wasn't ready for it. I'd already decided that I was ready to be alone, and possibly to finally go a bit crazy and have sex with a bunch of different people....'sew my wild oats' that I'd never had a chance (or nerve) to sew. So when I told George I was leaving, he almost immediately told me he was going too....and I said, hold on a sec, I'm not sure I want you to come. It was a confusing time, but the reason was really that I had never been at a point in my life where I was comfortable being gay (which I was by then) AND single at the same time. It was appealing to be single and go a bit crazy....then I find out that the one I wanted to be with all along, also wanted to be alone with me.

What to do...what to do....basically I told George I needed to think, then sat on it for about 3 weeks. We was patient as a saint. When we talked again, I explained to him about the whole 'wild oats' thing and he understood totally. So we went into this relationship with the understanding that it was an open relationship. If one of us wanted to have sex with someone else, they were allowed without having to be afraid that the other would find out and leave them.

So we've both been whoring around ever since!

Ok, not really. What I really needed from George, but didn't know at the time, was understanding and simply the knowledge that I COULD have sex with someone else without worrying about destroying what we have. So far neither of us have gone there....but we've sort of redefined the whole thing over the years.

George and I both understand that sex and love are two different things...often they go hand in hand, but not always. Love can make the sex better....love can also exist completely without sex and sex most definitely can exist with no love. I believe there are loads of happy couples who stopped having sex years before (plenty more frustrated ones too.) George and I talk about guys like any normal guy....that is to say, 95% of the time we are thinking about sex. We love to guy watch together and if one of us is looking and doesn't mention it....rather than the other one getting jealous about looking at someone else, that person gets annoyed because you were looking at someone else and not sharing!

We're also exploring adding others into our bedroom occasionally for fun. So far that's only happened once (and he's now in jail....another story for another time), but we want to keep it happening every once in awhile to add spice. It's VERY difficult to find people...lol. We have a manhunt profile which I re-wrote from George's.....the pics are all ones I took of him. We've been close to hooking up a few times but it always seems to fall apart. The problem is really me because I'm not comfortable with myself at all and am convinced that someone will take one good look and run screaming out the door. And if I'm not attracted to someone...I'm not going to be able to perform at all. So I'm picky about who we choose....George seems to be ready to hook up with almost anything that moves, but I keep saying no. (George would have sex 4 times a day given his preferences...lol.) I would be much more comfortable with someone I already know and feel comfortable with....but it's a tough subject to bring up.

Our sex life together is great too....so it's nice that we don't actually NEED this...we are doing it for fun, and to keep our sex life great. There are very few people who would actually understand this. I don't feel jealous when George has physical contact with someone else....I'm turned on by the thought. It doesn't mean I love him less or him me....it means there is an attraction, plain and simple. Having sex is physical fun. It's emotionally complicated, but it's still just sex.

Alone Time

It's funny how I really need my alone time and feel sort of resentful when I get none.....yet when I get more than a few hours, like this weekend, I get quickly bored and lonely.

I was essentially alone for my first 30 years. Although I did live with my sister during most of those adult years, we both valued our alone time, and went out separately all the time. When I moved in with Jim and George....there was suddenly no alone time to speak of, which was a problem for me.

My years with George....well, George doesn't do much on his own. I mean he has no night-time activities like I do (music) and no friends that he goes out with, so on the nights I'm away (1-4 nights a week), he gets his alone time. I, however, don't get much, unless George is going home to visit his parents and I'm not going for some reason. I so value my time alone that even though I like his parents alot and we all get along and they want me to come, I sometimes will decline, just to have some time to myself.

This weekend was one such weekend. George was going to NY to visit them and I begged off as it had been months since I'd had any alone time and we just visited them in March. I was looking forward to it, thinking of all the things I can do....ahem, both fun, and things like World of Warcraft, which I enjoy but never get anywhere because I don't have the time to put into it. I was gonna play all weekend long. So George leaves Sat morning and by about 3 o'clock, I was bored and ready for him to be home.

I'm just so much less without him....I don't like me much. I eat too much, and absolutely ALL the wrong things. I do essentially nothing useful, waste time, play and don't even have much fun. Watching TV is no fun, lonely without him.

I watched the first Riddick movie last night...guilty pleasure I had hoped. But I didn't think much of it....Vin Diesel is incredibly hot, but the movie isn't. It was sort of a bad Alien-type movie. So I was basically bored during that too....I bought the trilogy awhile back (as a set) thinking I'd like them, and if I did could also talk George into watching them. But no.

Today I've played a bit, cleaned up a bit, did a few useful things like bills. I'm trying to alternate playing for awhile with something useful so I don't feel so entirely USELESS over the while weekend...lol.

So I need my alone time....but I only need a few hours of it here and there. I've had to face the possibility of losing George for the first time recently....and I absolutely can't imagine it. it's made me realize how completely I really do love him. He is my life, my better half. The most amazing thing is, he actually feels the same....I'm his life and his better half. The truth is, we are only complete when we are together.

George with his parents in NY....this is the old house they FINALLY sold this past year to get an apartment near his sister Debbie.

Women

I've always found the way that Men and Women think fascinating. While I think that gay men's brains sometimes function more similarly to a woman's than a straight man's....some things still remain true.




This must be why I never married...


Love this one....



Yes, I'm afraid that this is true of me too. I'm a VERY efficient shopper.

What to play....what to play.....

I'm having a really hard time deciding what I want to play in DCDD Symphonic band in the fall.
Ok, my musical history in the band:

I joined in 1983 or 1984...I'm not 100% certain, but it was in the first year after I graduated college with a music degree. I was a Euphonium player in high school and college and went to Miami of Ohio....that WELL-known music school (NOT). I went there for a couple of reasons. First, I was limited to in-state Ohio State colleges because that was what we could begin to afford. My parents gave me everything they could, and I grew up never truly wanting for anything, but we never had much money either. So my choices were basically Bowling Green where 2 sisters went, or Miami where I knew someone in the music school - Pam Lump who's mother worked with my parents....I didn't truly know her until I got there and we became great friends (to this day). I chose Miami and was at least a year into it before realizing that their music school was a big nothing.

In any case, I was the star Euphonium player there. My instructor, Dr. Thomas Clay, told me I was one of the two best he'd ever had. Turns out that didn't mean that much really, but it felt good. I ended up on scholarships, did my four years and had a useless music education degree.

(boy can I tangent)

So just after college I joined the band...to immediate boredom. I've indicated before that the band sucked bigtime back then, and I was at my highest playing level having just graduated from constantly playing music. So it was like going back to 5th grade music as a somewhat accomplished musician.

Obviously I was playing euphonium at that time in the band and stayed on it for many years. Eventually I switched to trumpet for the challenge. Mary Bahr was the star trumpet and was very nice to me, helping me along playing third parts. After a year or so, a casual friend passed away, and Nora Greenleaf formed a brass quintet to play at the funeral, and asked me to be the 2nd trumpet. The group stayed together for almost 6 years and I became a decent trumpet player because we were religious about rehearsing weekly. At the same time, most trumpets dropped out of band and I was forced to become the first trumpet player, plus a swing band formed (Steppin' Out) and I played 2nd in that group, which meant that I got all of the solos. Those things made me into a reasonable trumpet player.

Within the brass quintet, we used to switch instruments at the end of rehearsals for fun, calling it Nurd quintet. I started grabbing the French Horn most of the time. I must've been richer than normal at that point in life because I ran out and bought one. I switched to French Horn in band for fun and in quintet for the last year, and eventually became our band Section Leader (I just gave it up to Steve Price after the last concert.) Over the years in band, I also played Bass Clarinet, Trombone, Percussion but mostly went back and forth between Horn, Euphonium and Trumpet as needed.

In the last few years I switched to Baritone Sax in the current Swing Band (DC Swing) and this past year also joined Sax in the City, our Sax Quartet +1. (we play Quartet music, but have an extra bari player at the moment.) At the moment, I'm probably playing Bari better than any other instrument.

So...why am I struggling with what to play? Well, over the years, I always asked the conductor what they need me to play, which was trumpet for years, then Horn for the past 7-8 years. Something happened with me on French Horn this past year. I haven't a clue what it was, but suddenly I have felt like I absolutely suck on that instrument. This past Spring, my Horn playing just never came back to me and I struggled big-time. Usually after our yearly breaks, my playing suffers for a few weeks since I don't practice much when the group isn't playing, then comes back a few weeks into it. This year, it never came back. So I'm VERY discouraged on Horn and have no desire to play it at the moment.

Trumpet....this is what I really want to play, but the band doesn't need them as far as I know, so I'll get sucky parts and won't be helping the band where I should.

Euphonium - I've not been happy with the instrument I own for years. It's a non-compensating Yamaha....decent, but not great. Three things keep me from wanting to play that...first the bad horn, second the band doesn't really need them either, and third, our new conductor is a Euphonium player in a military band and solos all over the world. No matter how well I play, I'll seem like I suck to him since it's his instrument too. So I'm intimidated by that.

Bari - forget it...love the instrument but band Bari parts are about the worst parts in band. The instrument is used to supplement tubas or low woodwinds, but composers and arrangers simply use it as a not important bass instrument in the band....translation - the parts will bore me to tears.

So that leaves me not knowing what to do. I guess I have a month or two to decide, but this is the first time in 25 years I've felt unsure of what to play....NOTHING seems right at the moment.

Phone Tree at Mental Hospital.....

MENTAL HOSPITAL PHONE MENU

Hello and thank you for calling Fulton State Hospital. Please select from the following options menu:

If you are obsessive-compulsive, press 1 repeatedly.

If you are co-dependent, please ask someone to press 2 for you.

If you have multiple personalities, press 3, 4, 5 and 6.

If you are paranoid, we know who you are and what you want, stay on the line so we can trace your call.

If you are delusional, press 7 and your call will be forwarded to the Mother Ship.

If you are schizophrenic, listen carefully and a little voice will tell you which number to press.

If you are manic-depressive, it doesn't matter which number you press, nothing will make you happy anyway.

If you are dyslexic, press 9696969696969696.

If you are bipolar, please leave a message after the beep or before the beep or after the beep. Please wait for the beep.

If you have short-term memory loss, press 9. If you have short-term memory loss, press 9. If you have short-term memory loss, press 9.

If you have low self-esteem, please hang up...our operators are too busy to talk with you.

If you are menopausal, put the gun down, hang up, turn on the fan, lie down and cry. You won't be crazy forever.

If you are blonde, don't press any buttons , you'll just mess it up.