Swoper's Ramblings

A Letter that cannot be sent

2011-09-21T13:06:00.009-04:00

Dearest Jim;

There are many things that remain unresolved between us, and many things I've wanted to say to you over the years. I want you to know how I feel about you, both the bad and the good and I really want to know how you feel about me after all we have been through together. But the world, and my personality, conspired against it ever happening. Even though you can never see this note now, I still need to write it, to tell you how I feel after all these years.

You and I had an extremely complicated relationship....right from the get-go. Back in 1990 when we first met, I had still never had a relationship, was barely even comfortable around gay people at all, never feeling part of that group. Essentially I was a 29-year-old-virgin-for-life, or so I thought. The only experiences I'd had as a gay man were really to join the band but barely ever speak to anyone, and my brass quintet. The only dates I ever had were complete failures, and I'd given up going out to bars and so forth to meet people because I just was never comfortable there and usually felt worse after than before I went. Although it appalls me to think that I felt this way, I had convinced myself that it was ok to be alone permanently, never to be loved, never to have sex. I guess I probably believed I wasn't worthy, had too many hangups...and it just wasn't meant to be. No person had ever pursued me or told me that I was attractive that way, and I didn't know how to pursue anyone either....so I was alone.

Then you came along and joined the band. I have to admit, my very first impression of you was that 'this older guy is too friendly and I don't trust it.' Even though I was totally inexperienced, I was quickly convinced you were after me for more than friendship. But not long after, I discovered you had been with someone for 10 years (George of course), and we became good friends.

I truly treasure the beginning of our relationship, the 8-9 months before we actually brought it to another level. You and George were so good to me in so many ways. You introduced me to many many things I'd never been exposed to before, both things in the gay community like the Flirtations and Romanovsky & Phillips, and cultural things like concerts, museums, gardens, etc. For the first time you made me feel like I was truly exposed to gay people who were really comfortable in being gay, and especially to a gay relationship. I had no experience with them, even short-term, and I didn't even imagine that life could be so 'normal' with a gay couple.

You also made me truly feel good about myself again, or perhaps for the first time since college and High School. You convinced me that there are people who believe I am good-looking, talented and interesting. Never had my confidence been boosted like that before, and probably never since either.

I have to admit that I was certainly confused during that time. Both of you made me feel so good, yet I saw this long-term relationship and I started having feelings that I thought were just wrong. I found myself falling in love with a couple...with each of you individually, but also with the relationship you had. I must admit I didnt' really see both sides of the true relationship at first....I saw the hand holding, the going home together, the always being together....and I WANTED it for myself too. It was confusing because you also seemed to be more interested in me than just as a friend...which it turns out you were. And when it really did become more...you then convinced me that it was what George wanted too (which wasn't true) and that it could work in the long run (which I still believe is true.)

Almost as soon as it became a relationship, cracks did start to form between us. We started to argue a lot. Those cracks got larger and larger and by the time we decided to buy a house together...were probably already irreparable. It was a mistake for me to do that, and I very nearly did not...but I let it happen. We spent the next 3 years with those cracks getting larger and larger, and me feeling less and less close to you.

That is not to say those years were all bad. Even after cracks formed, there were wonderful things about our relationship and you. I always appreciated the fact that you were such a 'doer' and you dragged George and I along with you always (with no protesting.) You were the one who made us do something virtually every weekend, from going to Falling Water, to Lancaster to the fish Store, to Shepherdstown, to concerts, to exhibits, etc, etc, etc. There was always something and we were always doing it. As long as we could avoid arguing, we were having a great time. I STILL miss that today....I know it was all you because George and I just rarely ever do those types of things. The three of us did weekend trips, day trips, small trips, big trips...we were just constantly doing. George and I just don't, and I wish I could get back into that habit. You taught me how great that could be....and it truly helps make life interesting.

Jim, you made me feel the best AND the worst about myself, but you made me FEEL. I both loved and hated our time together. We argued almost constantly, and I never felt that I won a single argument with you, so it was like beating my head against a rock for 7 years. I know you've never believed this, but I am not by nature an argumentative person. I've never been like that with anyone else in the world....but I never met anyone quite so pig-headed as you about certain things either. There was no convincing you even that I had a valid point most of the time, and you belittled me and told me I had no idea what I was talking about all the time. I'll never forget the argument about how little i know about relationships and how two people that are together should be together 100% of the time, and not have their own interestes, etc. You actually convinced me that I simply had no idea how a relationship should work. In fact you convinced me of a lot of things...mostly of my own failings in life. you shook my confidence in my ability to understand people and relate to them to the core. Eventually I just couldn't live with it anymore. We went through periods that were good, and lots that were unbearable, and it just eventually skewed to the point where I could not live with it on a daily basis. I needed to get my confidence back and needed to get out on my own.

When I decided to leave you, I truly believed I was deciding to leave Jim AND George. When I look back in my journal at the very early years, I told myself that if nothing else, I wanted to ensure that I never damaged what you two had....never came between you. When I told George that I was leaving, i did not ever ask him to come...I told him that I just couldn't live with you anymore and i was leaving. I was shocked when he said he was coming with me. George is the most loyal person i know and the least likely to embrace change. But somehow in those 7 years, George fell in love with me and his love for me trumped his fear of change. I think he was more fearful of losing me than of this huge change. I still don't know what he sees or saw in me, but I know how lucky I am to have him. And I also know how it affected you at first, although as the years went on, it became less and less clear to me.

I think at first you came as close to hating me as it's possible for you to hate someone. Somehow I took the blame for everything that happened. I could see it in your eyes, hear it in your voice. It was many months later before you even spoke to me outside of work. I'm positive that you believed that I convinced George to leave you too...and it's simply not true. For a few years I could tell that you still depended on George...over the years he had become someone who you depended on in many ways to do things for you, and because of the situation we continued to be in for a year after it became official that we were splitting, you could continue to depend on him. You tried not to, but quickly slipped back into the habit. We had that house together and because of your demands to get out of it every penny you put into it, we couldn't afford to take a loss on it, so it sat for a year with all of us still living there, but no longer together. The only one who really lost on it was me...and I lost every penny I put into it. But I did understand and was willing to do that to make it easier on you. It was the price I paid for leaving.

I don't mean to take credit where it's not due, but you need to realize that the reason you were able to continue a relationship with George to the point where you became friends was directly because of me. I knew you wanted nothing to do with me, and I also knew that you needed someone you could depend on. I still loved you in my way and I wanted to help, but I knew you wouldn't accept it from me, so I PUSHED George into it....I made sure he checked in on you, helped you where you needed it etc. Of course it's completely in his nature to be that way anyhow, but he was ready to walk away in those early years after our split...and I wouldn't let him.

It was kind of like the Bruiser/Spike/Skippy situation. The first words out of your mouth after we told you were that you were taking Bruiser. Despite the fact that I never had ANY intention of letting that happen, I knew it wasn't the time to argue, so I continued to take care of him, sure that you'd eventually come around. I never said a word about it and just waited, and you eventually were the one to come to the conclusion that he needed to stay with me, and his brothers.

I guess my point is that once we split, I had to go through a period of active silence....I never wanted to leave your life, and I knew from the situation with Marcia that's exactly what you wanted...me gone so that you could close that chapter of life and move on. but I wasn't willing to do that.

I believe that you eventually came to appreciate the fact that we remained in your life....as the years went by I felt like we became better and better friends. We were always there for you when you truly needed something and you were there for us as well. It became what I felt was a fairly comfortable, mutual friendship. By the time we all lost our jobs, we were already friends again from my perspective. I feel until the day you died, that remained true. What remains unresolved for me about all of it was how YOU felt throughout. I've never been one to force someone to talk....just not good at it unless they really want to. And you and I never truly had another conversation about anything that happened in the past, or even about how our friendship developed after that and if you really felt the same way about me that I did you. You were always an enigma.....and unfortunately, will always remain one.

Dwight indicated to me that you had written some fairly hateful things about me and how I caused all of your problems....and at first that truly disturbed me. But I choose now to believe that those things were early after the split and not recent. Dwight wasn't too good with the facts and timing of other things he told me he discovered about you, like Shasta's recent health and vets visits. And my instincts tell me that you stopped hating me and started appreciating my friendship somewhere along the line. I need to believe that my instincts were right for my own sanity and to move on.

I really struggled with your death....everything about it from discovering you ourselves to planning a memorial to dealing with Dwight and Debbie and George having to tell Dwight in the first place, to Shasta. Which brings me to her. I have to admit that when you got her I thought it was a big mistake...not that you were getting a pet, but that it was a huge dog. I knew physically you'd have a tough time with her and you really did....she was out of control for a few years until she matured. And a cat would've been what you truly needed...or at least a lap dog. I resented Shasta every time she came over because she disrupted cats and dogs in my house and she seemed so wrong for you. How ironic that I ended up with her....it took us awhile to accept each other. I know that she was very good for you in your last few years being your constant companion. When I finally got her out of the shelter after 3 weeks, she and I struggled because she was terrified of me. I'm not sure if it was the trauma she went through, or simply that she couldn't accept my voice of authority without being terrified by it, but she would freak out if I would even tell a cat to get off the counter. Things are slowly but surely getting better with us and I guess I've accepted the fact that she is ours now. I do promise to do the best by her that I possibly can cause I know you loved her.

Jim, I always loved you in my way and I always will. I'll never know how you felt about me and that will always sadden me. But I will hold up my head and believe that i did the best I could to keep us in each other's lives for the short amount of time we had. I will miss you and I will think about you a lot. You had an enormous effect on my life and the person that I am. I hope you are at peace now.

A truly special boy

2010-12-09T14:55:00.001-05:00

Growing up I was a dog person. This was because our family always had a family dog, and never had cats after I was about two and the family cat got locked in a room for more than a day with no box…and decided never to use a cat box again since that was so nice and easy. But we always had dogs and the only cats I knew were skittish neighborhood cats that didn’t want to be touched, a Siamese that a friend had which liked nothing better than to attack people, and a wild kitten that ‘followed me home’ (he might’ve been coerced) and lived with us for about a month until we realized he was truly wild and my dad dropped him off at a local farm.

When I became an adult and wanted a pet, I lived in an apartment so I got a cat and had my first extended exposure to my own cat, Shay. Her actual name was Scheherazade (one of my favorite pieces of music), but I called her Shay. Shay laid claim to me on the first morning as I was waking up after I’d gotten her….by peeing on me (right in bed…and I thought OMG, what have I done.) She never did it again and lived to be about 13, the last 6 with my sister. She’d grown up with Genilee’s cat Winston while I lived with my sister and we didn’t want to split them up when we parted, so she got them both.

A Few years later I got my first House with Jim and George, and immediately got my boys….Bruiser Spike and Skippy, the Jack Russell Terriers. They were wonderful, wonderful dogs. When they were 5 years old and George and I were on our own, I decided I wanted to add a cat to the mix. Now JR people will tell you that you don’t mix JRs with cats because their nature is to eat the cat, and they often don’t get along. But I’m stubborn and knew my boys, and really wanted a cat. I started looking into Purebred cat breeds when my sister acquired a stray calico, which turned out to be pregnant. I couldn’t go pay for a kitten and leave those without homes, so I told her I’d take one, and naturally she said, ‘no, you’ll take two….can’t leave a poor kitten alone with those dogs.’. After much arm-twisting (not), I decided to get two.

When the kittens were born, there were two typical Tabbies, two tabbies with some white on them, and two Orange Tabbies. I saw them when they were a few weeks old and eyes were already open, and they were just starting to move about. Genilee brought them all out to me and I was already in love. One of the orange Tabbies immediately came over to look at me and pay attention to me, although the others all ignored me, so I decided on the spot that was one of my kittens. I visited about 4-5 more times to get to know them a bit better and every other time I visited that same Orange tabby ignored me, but the OTHER orange tabby was really friendly and paid attention to me. I resisted getting both of the orange ones for awhile, but I truly fell in love with the second one…but couldn’t go back on my resolve to get the first one who looked at me, so I ended up with both Orange Tabbies.

The day I brought them home to the house was very interesting. Bruiser, Spike and Skippy had no clue what these things I brought home were, and I was sort of afraid of what I’d read, so I refused to let them get closer than 2-3 feet. But they could SMELL them and thought I’d brought home snacks…chaseable furry snacks!! I let each dog get close enough to the kittens to put their nose in it (watching like a hawk), but that just made them even more nervous. So the dogs were quivering and panting for the next several hours, and I put the kittens in another room….dogs wouldn’t leave the door…lol. We decided we’d better sleep in different rooms, so George and I slept apart for a week or so. Several days went by and the dogs remained nervous wrecks…I’d let them get close, but never when I wasn’t’ around, and they never stopped panting and acting nervous. Rachi and Copeland….they were not even slightly intimidated by the dogs, and just were oblivious. They knew perfectly well that everything in the world should adore them. About the 5th day, Spike….who was the MOST nervous and excited, but also by far the smartest….relaxed and decided that he was supposed to accept them as part of the family, and his brothers just went along because they largely followed his lead on most things. Never had any issues after that and the 5 of them always got along. Rachi and Copeland already knew they were part of the family, and they were oblivious to the nervousness, and always liked the dogs, even when the dogs thought they were furry little snacks.

Copeland was the cat who originally came out and sniffed me the first time, but not really again in the following visits. It was really a precursor to his personality because I never saw a more outgoing cat in my life. He LOVED it when anyone he didn’t’ know came into the house and he would be right there to greet them and spend time with them…any stranger would do. He was a wonderful cat who died very abruptly from cancer when he was 10….gave me no warning as I thought he was fine one night, but had to be put down the next as he was too far gone to help. I had no clue. He was very friendly throughout his life and was a special cat.

However, the most special cat I’ve ever known was his brother Rachi (pronounced Rocky, but named for Rachmaninoff.) Like his brother, he showed me aspects of his personality right from the first time I met him….slightly more reserved initially than his brother, but still very outgoing for a cat, and he was MY boy (or perhaps I was his) and never stopped coming to me. We adored each other completely. He didn’t’ come out to greet me the first visit, but every other visit he was the one kitten who always came to me first, wanted to play with me, even sit with me. I was foolish enough to almost not take him simply because he looked like his brother, but that would’ve been an enormous mistake.

People visiting us always commented on how friendly Copeland was, which was true. But Rachi was also very outgoing…he’d be there to greet strangers within a minute or two after Copeland…but he was our cat…it was George and I that he was interested in, not strangers. So he’d greet them and be out and about, but not going to the strangers to be petted (whereas Copeland was rather insistent to any stranger that they will pet him NOW.)

When it came to us, Copeland was very sweet and friendly (and he liked my left shoulder and chest) and would come around on his own terms to be petted…but generally wanted to be on his feet and didn’t’ like being picked up. He only wanted to be on you if he instigated it…like most cats.

Rachi was always there for me, every moment of the day. He was big, 15-16 pounds (Copeland was even bigger at 18), but very much a lap cat and shoulder cat. Almost immediately he established my right shoulder and chest as his place by simply crawling up there the first day and settling in to purr. He spent the next 12 years there and I’d hoped it would be the next 25. And that cat would start to purr every time I came near him throughout his life…..and if I could’ve, I would’ve purred right back. It’s an incredibly special feeling when connecting physically and emotionally with your animal. Rachi always knew when I needed him, and never ever refused me. I could pick him up anytime I wanted and he’d settle in. And if I waited too long, he’d just come around and insist….and trust me he was persistant. Even when I’d play on the computer and not be paying attention or even be looking at him, he’d simply come sit in front of the monitor facing me, often with butt on the keyboard….he was so big that I’d have to look around him to keep playing. If I still didn’t stop and start loving on him, he’d sit there, put his paws on my stomach and make love paws on my stomach…purring the whole time, then eventually just crawl up onto my shoulder anyhow. Wasn’t much I could do and I did NOT need to be playing that damn game when he wanted attention!

When it was ME that wanted attention, I could always find Rachi, usually lounging on the bed, and go hug him…and I mean literally hug him and encircle him with my arms and even squeeze a bit. I could bury my face in him anywhere. Most cats would freak out or at least leave when you do that and they weren’t asking for it…Rachi would purr and nuzzle me back. And oh what a nuzzler he was. I think he liked my chest/shoulder so much partially because it put our heads closer together and one or the other of us would start rubbing our face on the other. When Rachi and I loved on each other, we used our entire beings.

Rachi kept his claws and I cut them periodically. He was great about it except for one particular Claw…I could do the other 19 and he’d be fine, but he’d start to fight me as soon as I tried that one….it was a challenge….and he’d get MAD….right until I let him go, and I could immediately go bury my face in him again. He never held a grudge, no matter what I did to him. He loved me unconditionally, and I loved him just the same.

I don’t want to take away from George’s relationship with Rachi either. George had never had a cat before Rachi and Copeland (and never had a pet before the dogs), so he didn’t know what to expect. He loved Rachi (and Copeland) just like I did and they had a special relationship. What a great way to learn to love cats. In fact, one of the most telling aspects of Rachi’s personality is the effect he had on Jim Brooks. Jim was a true cat HATER before Rachi and Copeland. He used to joke about killing a cat whenever he saw one all the time, and pretended to swerve to hit them in the car. He thought they were just awful, pure hair and filthy and nasty. When you never have a cat, I can see how it’s easy to get the impression that they are unfriendly, because most ARE unfriendly to strangers at best. But Jim often babysat for the dogs for us, which meant spending time in our house with our cats. Rachi and Copeland turned him around completely to not only stop hating all cats, but to start to see how special they can be. Someday I will get Jim to have a cat now…I’m convinced of that. And it’s totally because of Rachi and his brother. He insisted on being Jim’s lap cat too when I wasn’t around.

When Copeland died, Rachi was sort of lost for awhile….he’d always had his brother and the two of them were very interactive with each other just like with us. Rachi I swear just didn’t’ seem himself in the weeks after Copeland passed. So me being me, I decided I needed a companion for Rachi (which turned out to be two kittens…again brothers.) So about two months after Copeland died, I brought home Bert and Sully (Gilbert and Sullivan), two Tonkinese kittens. I’d taken what I’d read about various cat breeds back before I got Rachi, and picked out a breed who’s personality seemed like it would mesh with Rachi…outgoing, playful and friendly and affectionate. For the first week, Rachi had the normal cat reaction…hiss whenever they come around and generally act pissed off because they’d invaded his house. But like Spike, Rachi was smart, and overnight accepted them as his baby brothers. From that moment, he perked back up and was himself again..a happy, contented Boo. And I mean Rachi treated them like he was truly their big brother….loved them, loved on them, beat them up regularly. Sully especially treated Rachi like a brother….Sully would come love on me and every time he’d leave my lap, he’d run over to Rachi and rub up on him for awhile. Rachi, being 11 at the time, was a little old for actual play, but he’d tolerate that too and be ready for love when it was over. If they bugged him too much, he’d fight back or move away…and two seconds later be their best friend again. He was the most sociable animal I know.

I had a million names for him and rarely called him Rachi…he was Rachiboo, kittyboo, bookitty, boo, bigboy. He became Bigboo when I got the kittens (Sully was Littleboo and Bert is Tinyboo.) But the best name for him was Perfectboo. Rachi was everything I ever wanted in a cat…he was my Bruiser in the cat world.

Last Thursday when I got home from work, Rachi was totally himself, sweet, loving, outgoing, normal. However, I’d been noticing for awhile that he seemed a bit thin….I could feel his spine. I guess I was avoiding it, but it hit me that night and I decided to weigh him. If my scale was right, he was down to under 13 pounds…and had been over 15 at his last checkup. I was immediately concerned and knew I needed to get him into the vet right away. I decided to make an appt the next day, but I got really freaked overnight and just put him in the car and showed up there Friday morning when they opened. Before I took him, I cut his nails, and when he was on his back in my arms, he started to breathe strange….the FIRST indication besides weight loss that there was anything wrong. I told the vet all about him and left him Friday morning for a battery of tests. By Friday night, Rachi was gone from me forever. He had a massive tumor in his lungs and they were filling up with fluid (thus the hard breathing) and had already lost over 3 pounds. I had to make an instant decision…I could try to have fluid removed and bring him home for a day or two, but there was no hope and his lungs would just fill again. There was no decision to make….Rachi was not going to suffer, but it was still agonizing to make it.

It killed me, but I had to say goodbye to the perfect cat, who only the day before had shown me no signs that there was anything wrong.

I feel lost without Rachi. I’m in shock. I feel cheated out of my years with him that I should’ve had. Skippy was diagnosed with cancer 6 months ago and we were told he’d only last a week or two. So every day for the last 6 months has been a death watch, where I go to him and check to see if he’s breathing. Skippy is still with me and I still can’t believe that Rachi is gone and went before him. I know you can never count on these things, but since I’d lost all three dogs to cancer, and Copeland to cancer, I thought surely this would be something else, Diabetes (simple shots for life) or something like that…how could it be cancer AGAIN?! How could it possibly happen so quickly when he’d seemed so perfectly fine the night before? How could it happen almost exactly like it happened with his brother? Where is the fairness in life? How can my Rachi be gone??!! When I lost Copeland at only 10, despite him being a great cat, I breathed a huge sigh of relief and counted my lucky stars because it wasn’t Rachi. I convinced myself that he would live into his 20s (have good friends who just put their cat down at 21, and two years ago put their other cat down after 21 years too.)

I was foolish, and I am shocked…and I feel cheated. But mostly I am just sad to my bone that he’s gone and I’ll never see him again, never bury my face in his fur and never hear that purr. It wasn’t loud, but it was the essence of Rachi.

Only 6 years ago, I had 5 fabulous animals, Bruiser, Spike, Skippy, Copeland and Rachi. They were all boys and the dogs were always ‘the boys’…until Rachi and Copeland wormed their way into our hearts too. Collectively they were all ‘the boys’….and now all my boys are gone….and all to cancer….all different types too. With the exception of Skippy (still technically with me)…none of them lived as long as they should’ve.

I have two new boys in my life….Bert and Sully….and I love them too, but they will never be ‘the boys’.

I miss you baby.

Dining Room Improvement.....

2010-10-31T15:35:00.005-04:00

Boy Jackie, when you're right, you're right.....what a difference a simple tablecloth can make

here's the corner for the wine bar

Consoles

2010-10-11T14:56:00.003-04:00

New Living Room, Dining Room & Kitchen

2010-10-11T14:43:00.009-04:00

New Powder room...last year

New Master Bathroom

2010-10-11T14:36:00.003-04:00

Black Day

2010-09-20T12:40:00.003-04:00

Another one of these days I've been having a lot of in the last year...in fact this is actually the 2nd day of it. I just feel so totally like I don't want to deal with the world today, or yesterday. I don't want to speak to anyone, see anyone or have any human contact at all. Actually, if it's like yesterday, basically ANY contact. Even the animals were being pushed away yesterday at times...don't feel like dealing with them either.

Yesterday I woke up after more sleep than I'd had in at least a week, but feeling like I needed to immediately take a nap....I was dragging like crazy and felt extremely tired. It was 2 hours before I started to feel awake, and less than another hour after that when I started feeling really depressed and unhappy. I tried to do a few useful things, grocery shopping, doing bills....intended on doing some cleaning. But when I"m in this mood, I also don't feel like doing anything and nothing seems to satisfy. I played my normal games, but wasn't into any of it. I saw and watched two lousy football games and both of my teams looked like crap (I'm over football for the year and it's only the 2nd week.) Thought about reading, thought about working on the basement clutter, thought about going for a bike ride or going to the gym. But I felt no desire for any of it and felt very much stuck. The longer the day went, the worse I felt mentally. George tried to make a comment here or there, but I was non-communicative to say the least, and probably verging on rude. I forced myself to perk up enough to watch some TV, went to bed fairly late, and woke up feeling the same today.

I don't know what is wrong with me, but I hate me when I'm like this. I have nothing positive to say about anything and my face feels like it's glued in a frown. I don't want to go to band when I'm like this, but I don't have much choice either. I'm just glad the rehearsal will be short since I'm not doing Wind Ensemble or Marching Band.

I'm concerned that too much of my life is spent like this recently. We went through a really bad patch of time since George's Dad died, but I felt like since he started getting some help, that my problems also were getting better. But here I am feeling like this again. I was like this the last two Monday's too...no doubt started off those times because of weekend weight gain, but why that should set me off this extremely I don't know.

I should probably go see someone....except I wouldn't even know what to say or what to talk about. There's nothing particularly wrong today...just the way I feel right now.

Kitchen Remodelling

2009-02-16T11:37:00.006-05:00

As promised, before and after shots of our kitchen:

Looking into dining room

View looking at far wall

Looking from far wall through to dining room

Corner where sink eventually ends up and pennisula

Deconstruction

Poor confused pooper in the mess in the living room

Oh how I'll miss the holes in our ceiling that were there for more than a year!

Fridge is in same place but area is reconfigured to be useful...looking towards dining room on the right there

Construction

Far wall cupboards, but originally they had the wrong facings....these are more traditional and what we got rid of

Pennisula/bar being built

The mess we lived with for months with no kitchen

Far wall again, this time with the right cupboard faces...looks out at deck

same

Looking towards dining room, can see pennisula, granite and part of the bar

looking over bar towards dining room

The backsplash

Corner sink, pennisula and deck beyond

Corner sink looking towards floor

Bar/deck

Just to clear up a few details

2009-01-29T15:10:00.002-05:00

I guess after I poured out my guts last time, I lost interest in blogging for awhile....trying to get back to it now. My good friend Chad must've gotten around to reading my blog again recently because he mentioned the last one to me and I had to scramble to remember what I wrote. After re-reading it just now, I realized that I was overly harsh with a few things in my last posting.

For one thing, George is back bowling with me already and showing every sign of wanting to continue. And he never read the blog to find out how hurt I felt at the time, so it's totally genuine and not a reaction to what I wrote. I was being unfair. Thanks hon (when you get around to reading it.)

I'm over the whole tuba thing and am very happy playing Trombone in band right now. I was a bit nervous about it because it's a whole different way of playing than Swing music, and in some ways a lot more difficult, plus the band does some really heavy, hard music these days. But I'm handling it fine and really enjoying it. I'm even inspired to practice (like I should be) which is a good thing. I"m perfectly happy never playing tuba again...although I also know now that I could go back to it and be fine there too.

One thing I said was pretty true...I'm kind of screwed up right now. I'm suffering from bouts of depression and can't even explain why I feel bad. On my birthday I woke up (George was already up) and was so depressed I could barely make myself get out of bed. Poor George didnt' know what to do for me and I didn't know either. I'm horrible to be with when I'm depressed becasue I don't want sympathy or to for anyone to attempt to cheer me up...giving the other person not many options. I could barely talk....this was not because it was my birthday or I was getting older or anything. I really don't know what it was. But the encouraging thing was that I took charge and FORCED myself to get over it by pampering myself and forcing us to go out to lunch (which I really didn't want to do), planning for a movie at the theatre (which I eventually bagged) then inviting us over to Steve an Mike's later that night for pinball and movies. We had a really good time and by the time I went to bed, it had been a very good day. Thank you George, for putting up with it, and thank you all three for helping me turn the day around and stop wallowing in depression.

I have had a good week this week though...been feeling pretty up. So I'm hopeful this was temporary. I was really charged at band this week playing trombone on all these difficult pieces, and it continued with Sax Quartet and Swing band. tonight, I plan to get my first 200+ bowling (been planning it for 3 months, each week...but we wont' mention that.)

I PROMISE to get kitchen pictures in here very soon, so that there is something vaguely interesting to read/see finally :).

My Personal Year in Review....with some major tangents

2008-12-26T12:14:00.008-05:00

It's been a fairly amazing year....one of the most stressful of my life, yet not necessarily BAD stress....just large amounts of stress in various ways.

Some quick highlights:

Politics and News - I'm usually not very political, but this has to be the most interesting year politically I've ever experienced. From Hillary being the first female major presidential candidate, who I supported whole-heartedly, to Obama winning a hard-fought primary and becoming the first black party-nominee for president and who I also supported whole-heartedly after Hillary dropped out....to Obama becoming the historic first black president and more importantly to me, him getting Republicans out of office. Then of course there is the economic news....all of it bad. And sports news....the Olympics were SOOOO much fun for me....I bought a Terabyte drive for my Tivo so I could tape as much as I wanted, and I'm STILL watching the Olympics now. Last night I finished up watching the Pairs Synchronized Swimming and I still have probably 30-40 more hours to watch.

Marriage - Politics lead to personal life - There was Prop 8 in California to overturn the legalization of gay marriage there....which of course affected me directly since George and I got married in California this year. Getting married was a true experience as I've blogged about already.

Music - As I've also blogged about already, I picked up two new instruments this fall and struggled mightily with one and feeling mostly successful with the other one, right up until the moment I played my big solo. Music was stressful this year because of the new instruments, new conductor for the band, new friends I've become close to and because we played too many concerts in the band, leading to constant rehearsals to the point where I felt like I couldn't breathe anymore.

Health - I had two health scares with George this year. He has something weird going on with his eye that no one can tell us for certain what it is. It's bloodshot, tearing and bulging out making his eyes uneven, giving him double vision at times....this has been going on for months and all they are doing it 'monitoring it'. They think it's thyroid related, but nothing shows on tests and they won't treat until something does. So we wait.... Then in November he started complaining about knee pain....turned out to be a torn meniscus and he had to have surgery....which luckily went well and he's almost recovered. Also had a scare with Skippy where I thought we were losing him....and it happened of course at 10:30 at night AFTER I bowled and got home and George was laid up with his knee so I got to do it alone. He apparently must've swallowed something and was acting drugged up, but all I knew was he was confused and not himself and it seemed very bad. About $1100 and much stress later, we dont' have a clue what it was, but he's ok now. He's approaching 15, but doing well.

Bowling and Socializing - George never gets out unless I drag him out. So this year I got us to join the gay bowling league, despite the fact that he didn't really want to do it. Although I like bowling, I'm already busy many nights, and I did NOT need something else to do. However, he has no such activities and I wanted to find something to do together, so I forced the issue. I mostly enjoyed it and I think he did too, to a point. But first opportunity he had, he ditched it and now I'm stuck doing it by myself....another activity to take up another of my nights. Something came up at his work every other Thursday evening, and rather than telling them that he had a committment or see if there was anything he could do about it, he literally LEPT at my off-handed suggestion that he tell Steve to find someone else. Sure the job is more important, but it would've been nice if he had tried or at least investigated. Most places will understand if you already had a committment and will attempt to accomodate you. Guess we'll never know now and I'm feeling very stuck....yes, I'm very annoyed. I've been trying to just forget it because it just causes me stress to talk about it and the 2nd half of the year is just starting. And George asked me if I was just going to drop out too.....I can't do that to Steve or Jeff and feel a responsibility once I start something to see it through....thanks Mom :(.

Home - We finally got off our rears and did something to the house this year, and typical of me, dove in head first and did the kitchen as our first major project. Ultimately it was very successful and we are happy....and I truly think that overall we had it pretty easy as home projects go, but living with no kitchen for months was stressful.

Personal Life - I've struggled alot with depression this year and feel like I may be going through a mid-life crisis of sorts, questioning everything, but especially myself. I discovered that I really don't like myself very much and am struggling to overcome it.

Relationships - I became much closer to several friends this year, and at the same time, feel like no one really knows me and I don't have anyone I can really talk to about my personal feelings....except maybe my friend Jackie in Ohio. Here's an example....playing the Traces solo at the DCDD concert was huge for me this year. I was struggling musically because of the tuba and feeling like a failure at the time. Trombone was keeping me more musically sane because it was so much more natural for me. And I practiced the solo really hard (for me) and thought I was going to kick butt....and when the solo came and went, I did 'ok', basically. Although it was not horrible, it also was not memorable or even particularly good. In my heart it felt like a major failure again. I was really, really upset about it for several days, but felt like I really didn't have anyone to talk to. I didn't get many comments and the comments I did get were mostly 'good for someone who just picked up the instrument'. That is a back-assed comment and hurt a lot more than it helped. I am a musician, and I wanted to be GREAT, period, not good for someone who doesn't know what the hell they are doing. I didn't feel like I had anyone to talk to about how I really felt about it, and every time I tried I would just hear comments along the lines of the one above and that I'm too hard on myself. when I finally wrote to Jackie and admitted that I felt I might've been better off never trying the solo, she did what she and I always do....reached through the computer and slapped me.....told me like it really is and put it in perspective. She made me understand that the comments were not insults at all, that I am a perfectionist (never thought that about myself) about some things like this and that (and this is a quote) "I am completely crazy for telling myself that I shouldn't have tried it....I should be praising myself for having the courage to push beyond my comfort zone." I also realized from all of that how passive agressive I can be....I desparately needed comments from friends to tell me that I played well....validation I guess because tuba had shaken my confidence. Some people I was sure I would hear from barely said a word, which shook my confidence even more.

In any case Jackie....thanks. As usual you know me better than anyone else since you and I are so much alike in many ways. We understand each other so completely. I used to feel that with Genilee but that went away a few years back. I don't have that with anyone else right now. None of my in town friends really know me very well....my own fault probably.

Obviously I also have a very fragile ego. I dont' have a lot of confidence in anything I do, and music is the one place where I normally have quite a bit. This year has harmed that confidence. And I'm disappointed that no one tried to help me find a tuba to play so that I could continue playing it this Spring. Ultimately it's my own responsibility, but I guess I felt like even with my struggles, playing tuba really helped the band out.....yet the band is doing nothing to help me find an instrument to play. My problem is, I keep thinking of it as an entity, 'the band', rather than a collection of volunteer individuals with their own things to deal with. If I've learned anything from my years with the band, it should be that there IS no entity, no history (shown when I was denied playing in the 1993 inauguration of Clinton because I had taken the fall season off for the first time in 10 years), no helping individuals. You have to TAKE what you get from the band, the social aspect, the musical enjoyment because there is no memory beyond yesterday and no magical organization that will help you out. Yet even knowing that....I'm still disappointed...I still waited and hoped that Joe or someone would help.

Sex - some of you might not want to proceed any further reading this post.....this next part is especially personal and not something everyone should or wants to know. I am writing it because this serves as my diary in some ways and I need to say things out loud to help me think them through. Proceed at your own risk. George and I actually did open up our relationship a bit this year to occasionally add in an extra person for a 'fun evening'. We've met 4 people and actually did the deed with two of them (different times, and each twice so far.) The whole process was very stressful because I discovered a few other things about myself that I don't like much. I'm too controlling and at the same time very shy....I'm picky and only am interested in people I think are really attractive, yet have nothing looks-wise to offer to anyone since I'm fat and a plain-Jane looker. I'm not comfortable being touched....which is partially whath makes me a top and sexually controlling in some ways. I feel so completely unattractive that no one has ever convinced me that they WANT to touch me, even George. And although I look fat at the moment, I usually hide my true weight fairly well with clothes on. So when someone touches my body, I feel like they are seeing the true me finally and couldn't possibly feel desire and might even be repulsed. So twice now, we tried to have someone join us and I got uncomfortable when they started touching me, and freaked out and ran out and ruined it. Then there's the Manhunt aspect of it. George joined and started looking for people and he has no discerning taste and apparently no clue what I like and don't like, even after I tell him. So I started getting constant, 'this guy wants to get together with us' and when I'd try to find out a few details, get nothing much back. George seemed to think that 4-5 replies was getting to know someone, even if it was a couple of words each. And I constantly had to be the one to say no....stressful. And then George sort of got addicted to looking and started spending ALL his time on manhunt (that's calmed down a lot now.) Being as I'm the picky one with a lot of hangups, it probably should've been me looking to begin with, but I was really doing it for him because he has more of a constant sex drive than I do. And in some ways I know I don't satisfy that....another point of my failure in my mind. He'd do it every night if he could. But because I'm the 'controlling top', it falls on me to do 100% of the work involved in sex. I know it shouldn't be work, but if you want to keep things fresh you have to constantly look for new interesting things to do. I have to plan ahead and have to get myself in the mood and I try to make it special every time. I can't just 'jump in' like I sometimes have the urge to do because he doesn't really like quickies...wants it to take hours every time (probably cause he doesn't get it often enough for his liking.) So the whole 'manhunt' and adding someone in thing is partially a way to take the pressure off of me....give George another outlet. I would even be ok with it if he found someone on his own to play with (I already know he is safe and would remain so.) Sex is one small aspect of a relationship and if he was having sex with someone else, I'd be fine with it as long as it's honest and open.....and it doesnt' mean he'd stop having it with me or we'd even slow down.....to me it just means he'd be able to stay more satisfied. But he doesn't want to go there....only together. I have my own manhunt profile too for us and go on very occasionally, but every time someone emails me, I freak out and jump off...lol. It's such a dilemma, being a top who is shy. Band camp showed a good example of that because Matt and Chad were very open with me and while they are friends who I wouldn't never want to take advantage of or anything, I'm so shy that I had to be TOLD to touch them even when I had clear opportunities to be touchy-feely...lol, I have so many stupid hangups.

In any case, it all was part of this momentous year.

Oh and I even got a promotion at work that I didn't even want. I didn't feel like I was ready to get bumped up since I've only been here a year, but a position opened up and I was basically told to apply for it, and got it. I'm not complaining about the money, mind you, but I feel like it's too soon, and I can't help but feel guilty about the fact that during the worst economic times in my lifetime, when people all over the place are LOSING their jobs and taking cuts, even here at Postal, I get handed a promotion. So I've barely mentioned it to anyone and haven't celebrated or anything. Why do I feel guilty? It's just stupid.

The more I write, the more screwed up I feel....guess somewhere along this posting, I completely lost track of what I was posting about......thus another Swoper's Rambling.

Time for Appreciation

2008-11-26T13:51:00.002-05:00

Thanksgiving is tomorrow and it's about time I pause and think about some of the things I have to be Thankful for. Too often I moan and groan about everything wrong, when so very much in life is exactly right. Here's a few things:

I'm Thankful that I have George - he IS my life....he keeps me sane and grounded, accepts me with my multitude of faults and doesn't try to change me despite them. He's kind, generous, loving and hot and I'm so very happy we found each other and proud to call him my husband.
I'm Thankful for my family. I could not have possibly been luckier than to have the parents and sisters that I have. Each of them is unique and wonderful.
I'm Thankful for my dear friends. Friends have always been important to me and this year seems to have made them even MORE important and prominent in my life. Jackie is probably my oldest closest friend, from college. Chris and Paula, who George and I travelled to San Diego with to get married, are dear dear friends. Steve Collins is a long-time, very close friend, along with his partner Mike. Jim Brooks is a dear friend that I've had a very unusual relationship with over the years, and right now I feel we're very close. I've become even closer to several other people this year, Matt & Chad (my boys), Scott SM, Rob, Beth, Scott B, Paul, Stan, Aditi, Anja, Lisa-Marie and many more who I'm failing to mention by name, especially my DCDD friends (apologies.)
I'm thankful that I continue to have music in my life. It's been an interesting year musically, what with Tuba and Trombone, being in 4 groups on 4 instruments and other stuff. I still love it, despite being overwhelmed at times.
I'm thankful for my animals, Skippy, Rachi and Copeland...they are great
I'm thankful that George and I both have our health
I'm thankful for our new kitchen and the fact that we have the resources available to do a major project like that. (which I suppose means I'm thankful for our jobs?)
I'm thankful for life....it is a most precious thing which we all should remember from time to time.

Feeling like a heifer

2008-11-21T15:16:00.002-05:00

Today I feel fat.....and I mean hugely largely overly terribly obesely fat.

Guess I ate too much (for the last 47 years....)

Here's a picture just taken of me...

No Matter What California decides

2008-11-03T13:46:00.003-05:00

I'm very happy that I decided to get married. This whole experience turned out to be so much more important and memorable to me than I ever expected.

First the followup to our wedding weekend. My sister Allyn came into town the following Thursday to help celebrate with the family and also to see my DCDD concert. The concert went really well and my whole family loved it. I'm only slightly disappointed that she saw me on tuba instead of horn since she's a horn player and has never heard me play it.

That Sunday, George and I (only slightly hung over from the post-band celebration we'd stayed too late for) went over to Genilee's house to celebrate the wedding with the family. I expected it to be like our birthday celebrations basically....a meal, good conversation, maybe a dessert, a present from each of them. But I could see as soon as I walked in that I'd underestimated greatly what they had planned. There was decorations, a table loaded with presents and even a wedding cake with tiers....which I was sure they must've purchased, but which I found out later my Mom had made. And as the afternoon went, I realized that they'd actually planned a full shower/reception sort of party, complete with games like the newlywood game for the couples (which we won of course) and the game where I'm blindfolded an feel everyone's feet and guess which is George's. And each of the game resulted in us getting yet another present. If we won, we'd open one, and if someeone else won, they'd pick one for us to open....lol. It was all centered around George and me, and it was FUN! I had a great time and even George, who hates games, seemed to enjoy it all. We got a load of really great presents, from a Kitchenaid, to kitchen decorations, toaster, kitchen clock, some pans and other stuff for the new kitchen, and even a beautiful piece of stained glass that Allyn made which will also go in the kitchen. Having never considered wedding presents or a wedding shower or reception....this was really something special for us.

The really special thing about the thing though.....was the legitimacy that it gave us. That sounds a bit strange, but what I mean by that is simply that my family felt it was very important for us to realize that they believed our wedding was like every other wedding in the family....just as important and just as true. It was really imporant to my mother that she get to throw us this shower/reception because she didn't get to be there for the actual wedding.

It touched my heart to know how my family feels. I knew that they always loved and accepted George, and certainly me. Yet somehow I underestimated their feelings about the wedding and the formalization of our relationship. I am blessed to have this family.

A Weekend I'll Always Cherish

2008-10-20T14:07:00.005-04:00

Thursday we woke as usual and went to work. But this was not a usual day or a usual time in our lives.....so we left work about noon, went home, picked up our things and traveled to Laurel to Chris and Paula's house. We all greeted each other with joy and excitement, and within a short time were on our way to the airport.

Once we got through the Delta ticket line (I don't ever recommend flying Delta again....took nearly 2 hours to process 10 people in that line and we almost missed the flight), we hopped onto our plane and headed for beautiful sunny San Diego.

The plan had been brewing for more than a month by that time, but not a significant amount of time considering what we were headed to California to do. It was hatched by Chris and her partner Paula, and George and I jumped fairly quickly on board both in support of them and for ourselves as well.

We arrived in San Diego after non-eventful flights and checked into the Del Cornado hotel that night and went to bed.

By 9am the next morning, the four of us were at the San Diego City Hall. The guard at the door greeted us warmly and asked what we were there for. 'We have an appointment to get our marriage licenses today.' She was very excited and asked us where we were from. When we told her Maryland and Virginia she got even more excited and said they should really put up a map on the wall and pushpins for all the places people are coming from to get married.....Alaska, Montana, etc, etc. This was because California had the decency to offer marriage licenses to gay people, and tons of people had made the trip we were making. Many more are probably headed there now to get in before the November 4th election when the voters of the state 'could' take that right back away from us again.

In any case, this was a happy occasion for us and we took lots of pictures, even in the hallways of city hall, snapping a pic of the 'marriage licenses --->' this way sign. The people in the office were equally as nice as the guard, and very helpful. Less than an hour later, we all had our licenses to be married later that day. They offered us a justice of the peace, but we had other plans.

The next few hours the four of us walked around various parts of Balboa Park....at one point we saw the world's largest outdoor organ being played by an older lady with several groups of schoolchildren watching as she gave a bit of music history while playing.

By noon, we all were at the Big Kitchen....a fabulous breakfast/lunch place run by a woman (Judy) who is an icon and a true personality. She's been a pillar of the gay community there in San Diego (and I'm not even sure she herself is gay...just very supportive) and George and I had gone there 10 years ago and met her. Whoopie Goldberg once washed dishes in her place when she was getting her start.....and Judy is still a stitch and a half. We met Karen and Robin there as well and all had lunch while discussing the wedding. Karen was to perform the ceremony and Robin is her wife/partner who was going to take pictures for us too. They are friends of Chris and Paula and Karen was ordained on-line through some universalist church that will ordain anyone....so she was technically clergy, although there was nothing religious about the ceremony. We discussed the plan....we would find a spot on the beach near the Del and do it there around 5pm.

After lunch we went back to the hotel to pick out our spot on the beach. When I stopped in the room, I found a beautiful basket filled with Wines and Chocolates and Snacks that my family had sent all of us to celebrate with. I about lost it on the spot when I read the card....although I should've known and expected it, they totally surprised me with the support they showed and I felt that my family was there with me in San Diego at that moment....I knew in their hearts that they were there and wanted to be with us. We proceeded to head to the beach. We spent an hour there and found a nice spot near an outcropping of rocks, then went and dipped our feet in the water and just enjoyed the view for awhile. It's a gorgeous spot with the ocean on one side and the beautiful Del Cornado on the other side....with a beach between.

With the spot picked out and the plan fully hatched, we went back to rest a bit, get dressed for the wedding and arranged to meet in our room at 4:30 for a pre-wedding toast, using the Wine we'd gotten (I even had room service bring up a corkscrew and real wine glasses.) We toasted their 21-year relationship and our 18-year relationship plus the significant friendship that the four of us have, and headed downstairs to meet up with Karen and Robin at 5.

Also at around 4:30 I got a frantic phone call from my good friend Jim Tompkins-Maclaine who lives with his partner Gerardo in San Diego (we stayed with them and went with them to the big kitchen 10 years ago and I've known Jim since college....he's an Ohio boy too.) Jim and I had connected again on facebook and he knew this was happening, but through a series of mishaps, he messed up the date of the wedding and only realized it 30 minutes beforehand. He was beside himself, but at that moment, I figured it was just fate and we weren't about to delay, so we hung up promising to talk later.

Once we met up with Karen and Robin, we all headed to our spot. Karen presided over a very nice ceremony for the four of us and Robin took lots of pictures. They also did a couple of really nice little touches to enhance things. They brought all 4 of us little bunches of flowers to hold, and a very nicely done certificate (with the Del as the background.) It was small and not very fancy....we were wearing flipflops because we were on the beach, but dressy, comfortable clothes otherwise.

Although prior to all of this I'd ever given much thought about actually getting married or what I would want in a ceremony, and it was short and sweet...and although I committed to George years ago....I've never meant anything in my life more than the words I said to George at that moment. It was the most significant moment in my life.

After the ceremony and lots of picture taking and laughter, we all headed to a fancy restaurant at the Del and had a wonderful dinner and conversation. That night we also arranged to meet up with Jim and Gerardo the next day. George and I of course went back to our room and had our first sex as a married couple! (we were virgins before that naturally.)

Next morning, we were up early and off to Disneyland where we met up with Jim and Gerardo just outside the park. We ran ourselves ragged all day long and had a great time.....did our usual ride on Dumbo with us in front of Chris and Paula so we could get pictures of them (it's a tradition between us) and rode every ride we could get into. The park was packed, but we really didn't care. An extra special touch was the Swing Band that was performing there that evening. It was a fabulous day. What made it extra special was the opportunity to get to know Gerardo while re-establishing what has always been a great friendship with Jim. Although they were together during our 10-years earlier trip, Gerardo barely spoke a word of English (he's from Mexico) and was very shy. And I felt like an idiot cause I could speak a word of Spanish either, so there were some awkward times and we went away feeling like we didn't know him at all. He speaks perfect English 10 years later and we actually got to know him for the first time...and he's just a delightful person as well.

The next day we were all pretty wiped from a more than 12-hour day of running around Disneyland. Chris and Paula headed off on their own to tour their old places they used to live (via car) and hook up with some other friends, and they dropped us off at a hotel downtown where we'd arranged to meet Jim and Gerardo for brunch. it was incredibly fancy and we drank a bit too much champagne (or George did.) Afterward, Jim had a rehearsal so we went back to their place....and ended up just hanging out there with them all day long, watching some TV, sitting on the couch and talking. Although it doesn't sound too exciting, it was exactly what we wanted...a time to simply relax and unwind and get to know a good friend and a new one again. We thoroughly enjoyed ourselves.

The next day, the four of us flew home together....all of it feeling pretty surreal.

It was a time I'll never forget. Although I hope gay marriage eventually becomes legal for all, and certainly hope that California does not overturn it.....we didn't do it for any political reason or to make a statement. We also didn't do it for legal reasons as it is not recognized here and Virginia is about as anti-gay as any state in the union. We didn't do it to tell each other that we were committed....that happened years ago. It was just a piece of paper. While we were doing it, we didn't really know WHY we were doing it.

But what I've come to realize is that it really means something to me and to George now...the act of having gone through the experience. I do feel a little bit different, a little bit more legitimate. And the reactions that we've gotten from friends and family add significantly to that feeling because people see us just slightly differently too. It feels wonderful to call him my husband.

Debate Instructions

2008-10-07T12:00:00.002-04:00

nuff said....

A Whiney Day

2008-10-02T08:21:00.002-04:00

Don't know why, but I woke up depressed today and can't seem to shake it. Rather than whine to my boys like I want to do....I decided to whine here to save them the trouble.

Ultimately this is nothing....Lots of little unimportant things are probably just adding up. I'm a bit unhappy that I'm getting married next week and I can't find a time to get my hair cut. I've been going to the same person for almost 20 years, but the only day I have any time in the next week....she's off work. I don't like any options I have....either go somewhere else (wouldn't know where and would probably end up with a bowl cut anyhow), go at some horribly inconventient time (not even sure if there IS one that could even work), or ask her to drag her rear in on her day off. I feel ugly and old enough as it is right now without having my hair look like crap too.

I'm pretty disombobulated at home at the moment because of the kitchen renovations....can't find anything, can't seem to ever remember where anything is or how to get to it. I'm washing dishes in a bathroom sink and draining them in the tub. They laid ceramic tile yesterday and were laying the last tiles when Steve arrived to pick me up for Swing Band. The tile is in the kitchen and powder room and comes all the way to the front door and steps to the upstairs. And of course we aren't allowed to step on it. But I had to get past that, into the living room for the Trombone, then down into the basement (access through the kitchen) without using the floor at all. I somehow managed but was pretty frazzled by the time I left. It's just weird coming home to your front door wide open and people working there that you can't even really communicate with.....another time I really wish I spoke Spanish.

I guess I'm still depressed from post-band camp too a bit. And Skippy isn't feeling good either and I'm a bit worried about him as well as pissed at one of my cats. We have a cat with cat-box problems....long history and it's not all his fault, but I still want to just wring his neck when he pisses on something on the bed right in front of me like he did last night. You can't really punish a cat with any good consequences, but me being me, I get angry at him and don't want to look at him for several days afterward. That irrational anger at my animals when they really don't understand why is what makes me question if I would've been a good parent. I often think I would've stunk. (luckily my anger manifests itself mentally and vocally rather than physically.)

Stupid little nothings getting me down today.....Ok, just need to shut up and bury myself in work.

A Magical Time

2008-09-28T21:26:00.005-04:00

What to say about this weekend....it was kind of magical for me in many ways.

It was band camp weekend....a weekend that I've looked forward to every year since the first early years where I was wary of the whole 'weekend' experience away with a bunch of musicians. I would go up for the Saturday all day rehearsal and leave that night, totally missing everything else. I thought I was getting the music magic without having to subject myself to a bunch of parties where I would feel ugly and unformtable as I usually do at parties.

But after a couple of years I tried the whole weekend and realized how much I was missing. It's an intense weekend of music where the band truly has the time together to be able to put the music we're playing where it needs to be. This year the music portion of the weekend had a secondary, but very important purpose. This was our time to really get to know our new conductor. We loved him when he auditioned but the first few weeks when he threw some very tough music at us and expected a lot out of us, it stirred up some unrest in the band. And I think the band threw him a few loops as well. But thats the nature of this relationship between band and a new leader. There will always be a feeling out period where we all get to know each other before we can bond musically. I tried to tell everyone that band camp is where we would find out who he is and what our relationship will be. He made us realize that it's a partnership...hopefully we brought him down to earth a bit. And many of us got to know him as a person for the first time. all round, it was a great success musically. We worked hard and it shows.

I guess I have to admit that it was also an important weekend for me musically. I've been really struggling with the tuba thing, feeling like I'm just not getting it and not contributing anything musically to the band for the first time. I've always felt that I gave something...but this time it's been a struggle just to play notes. And when you can't play basic notes, you can't put much musically into it. And I guess I was afraid that my reputation was taking a beating....that's stupid and egotistical, but real nevertheless. it's important to me to feel like I'm good at this one thing....music. On tuba, it felt like I was losing the music. Thank God for trombone in Swing band and the success I felt instantly with that....that kept me plugging away at tuba and not feeling like a complete failure this season. Anyways, this weekend I did start to feel like although it's not up to my standard, I have to admit it's finally getting better. I have to thank all my friends for helping me through it and encouraging me, telling me I'm sounding pretty good, even when I didn't believe it. I needed that. And I have to admit that hearing the new conductor tell me he was impressed with how far I'd come once he heard me in sectional.....that was also something I needed badly. I know he's had way more on his mind than worrying about what he thinks of me, but it was bothering me that he'd never heard me play anything well and his first impression was of me was on this thing that I could barely play. He also sounded genuinely impressed when I picked up the euphonium for the first time in a long time. That was nerve wracking because he is very accomplished on Euphonium in a way I never was and was playing with me. But I've always loved that tune, Amparita Roca and and especially the great euphonium counter-melody. And it was killing me to play tuba instead of Euphonium. And although I'm not great, I was once a very good euphonium player, so I didn't hesitate and in fact asked for the chance to play it. His reaction (and that of a few others in band) stroked my ego exactly how I needed....

In any case I'm feeling better about the tuba and about myself and I'll try to shut up about how bad I sound (yeah I probably spouted off about it too much and too frequently searching for validation.) I should've listened to my own advice about waiting until band camp to decide if I was a failure at it or not.

Although music is the reason for band camp, the true reason most of us love it is the comradarie while we are there. During rehearsal you are busy and breaks are short, so many of us don't know each other. Band camp forces us to eat and sleep together (minds out of the gutter boys....), party and have fun together. You talk to a lot of people you've never spoken to before and see how interesting or cute they are...or occasionally obnoxious but harmless. Everyone is in it together and we truly bond. The Friday night after rehearsal impromptue party is always a blast....everyone is in the mood to party and have fun. The Sat night party and talent show is always fun, and the bonfire is always a hoot. Not much Kumbaya here.

This year I had a magical time because of the friendships I have. One person I've gotten to know again after having known and adored him 10 years ago. We had a short but intensive friendship at a time when he was sort of in between college and finding himself. He drifted away and we happily ran into each other a couple of times, but now he's back in band and back in my life and I'm so very happy about that. Talk about finding yourself...what a guy he found! We had a great ride up and back in the convertible with the top down the entire time, daring it to rain on us. And I roomed with him, got to see most all of the gorgeous body which now matches his adorable personality, and cuddled a bit here and there. I thank him for a great time together and look forward to lots more. Welcome back again my friend (he's been back a year already...lol).

I also had a long conversation with a guy that I have enormous respect for and who I'm very happy to call my friend. He's found his own relationship in the last year and is really happy....and we had the best conversation we've probably ever had together....or at least the deepest one. We talked music, we talked band, we talked him, we talked his new lover, we talked me, my lover, our impending marriage...a whole lot. I thoroughly enjoyed it. And he also provided me a validation I really needed, that I was immediately helping the trombone section in Swing band. I thank him for his friendship and look forward to lots more.

Then there's my two special boys. Don't know why they like me but I don't care. The fact that they do makes me feel wonderful. I was really thrilled when they insisted I room with them this weekend and felt great when they automatically signed me up. It was tragic that it seemed like one of them couldn't be there this weekend because he was off being a hero, but my consolation was that i was going to try to help the other one enjoy himself without his best friend. When he showed up Friday night to shock us, I was elated that they were back together, but afraid that I might be the odd one out. But that didn't happen at all...instead they shared themselves with me and made me feel a true part of the friendship that they have. They are fun, intelligent, popular, incredibly good-looking guys and I've had the great opportunity to really get to know each of them well in the last year or so. And hot....both of them. I love each of them and the gift of their friendship. Thanks guys. I really look forward to lots more.

Thanks to all of the other wonderful people I got to know, or got to know better this weekend too. I look forward to the next one and the shorter times we have together while waiting till next year.

Instrumental Updates

2008-09-22T10:02:00.003-04:00

Here is an update from my perspective on how all my instrument-switching is going at the moment.

Tuba - I switched in concert band this season to Tuba, partially because that's what the band needed, and partially cause I thought it would be a good challenge. Tuba so far is not going well at all. I still feel like I pretty much suck on it and am adding nothing to the band. It's a disappointment but not a total surprise. For one, I've never played a tuba well in the past in my few attempts....that was true of French Horn for a long time too. 2nd, the music the band is playing is way too hard for me to be attempting to switch to a new instrument where I also have to transpose it all, and expect myself to be good. But I'm still disappointed in myself so far. I'm just not used to feeling like I sound like an 8th grader on ANY instrument and it usually doesn't take me long to get some sense of proficiency on it. So far on tuba, I feel like i'm kinda sucking...and not in the good way. It also leaves me feeling like I have a lot to prove before I'll ever get in Joe Bello's good graces. He doesn't know me from Adam, hasn't heard me play anything proficiently, and must simply think I suck and have no business on the tuba.

French Horn - I picked it back up for Stonewall brass rehearsal on Saturday and it went better than expected. Although it wasn't pretty, it wasn't awful either and I kept up with everyone else. The jury is still out on it at this point.

Bari Sax - I love the instrument and really love being in Sax in the City or whatever we end up calling our quarquintet (4 parts, 5 members.) Right now I feel like it's the only thing I play well. The sax quartet was going to perform at band camp, which would've given Joe a look to see that I'm not 100% incompetant. But with Chad deployed to Houston for disaster relief, that's out too. So Joe will have to continue to have a low opinion of me for awhile.

Trumpet - I have no where to play it other than for myself. I'm still working on Toot Suite for the small ensemble concert, but I doubt if I'll get it together and actually get a group to perform it.

Trombone - At the same time I switched to tuba in band, I switched to trombone in Swing band. Now I didn't practice it even once until the night before the first rehearsal (I blame the frantic tuba practicing and the Olympics), which means my entire experience was one marching band season at least 10 years prior. But almost instantly, it felt natural and right to me....polar opposite of the tuba. It's much closer in embouchure to euphonium, my original instrument, so it's not totally surprising. But what is surprising is just how good it feels to play it, how much I'm already enjoying it. I was forced almost instantly to play some first parts and solos, and I'm eating it up. Now I have a huge solo to work on, attempting to play Traces, which Joe Czarnicki played beautifully, but which hasn't been played by anyone else. I tried to offer it to everyone else, but no one took it, and me being the ham that I did.....did. Chris wants to play it on the December first concert. I find it a bit ironic that it will be the first time Joe here's me play something and not think I sound like an 8th grader (hopefully)....and on an instrument I've actually played less than tuba.

So at the moment, I'm loving playing Trombone and Bari Sax. I still love the trumpet. I feel somewhat better than I have in a long time about the Horn. And tuba....well, I can only hope it gets better in time for the concerts. At this point, I'm not expecting much. And since Scott now needs it for Stonewall and may also need it for an orchestra, I have a good excuse to give it up after December 1st concert. I can't see myself spending money to get one either when I'm not even enjoying playing it.

America's Got No Talent

2008-09-17T09:32:00.004-04:00

Let me start by saying that the television show 'America's Got Talent' is a great premise for a show. It combines literally ANY kind of talent into one show pitting singers against dancers against baton twirlers against female impersonators against sword swallowers against anything you can think of. It has some of the most bizarre talent I've ever seen, such as 'Spark Woman'....some weirdo woman who shot sparks off her body in various ways, or the guy who lies on nails while his wife and others stand on him.

Acts perform and the judges....I'll get to them in a moment....narrowed it down eventually to 40 acts. Then America takes over and votes them down (mostly, judges get involved too.)

Here's my #1 problem with the show. The director should be fired on the spot immediately....it's the worst case of directing I've ever seen in my life and he absolutely ruins it. I challenge anyone reading this post to do the following. When an act starts, follow the camera work and count just how long any one camera remains on an act before the director switches it to a different camera. The LONGEST amount of time I've seen is 2 seconds.

So an act gets up to perform and a camera is on...say showing the whole stage. Less than 2 seconds into the act, different camera angle focusing on the face of one person in the act, 2 seconds later, shows the act from the side, 2 seconds later you see the face of a judge, 2 seconds later back to original view, 2 seconds later you see them from up high and to the left, 2 seconds later you are looking at the audience. So, in a 2 minute performance, the director has said 'cue camera such and such' approximately 60 times.

Now if I'm trying to judge an act, how am I supposed to do that? There is no continuity at all to what the TV audience sees. Now for a singer, that matters not in the slightest because the sound is not interrupted. But for a dance troop, or in fact any act that actually uses the whole stage and needs to be seen, it's completely unfair. This is why there are, count them, NINE singers in the top 10, and not a single other non-musical act. How can I watch a dance troop and figure out if they are any good at all when I can't see them for more than 2 seconds at a time. It's just ridiculous and the idiot director should be FIRED. The dancers and other acts of that nature were cheated of any chance to advance. Of the nine singers, maybe one of them would've made it to the finals of American Idol (I know, hard to compare....but based on pure talent, it's true.)

#2 problem with the show - the cast is idiotic. First, Jerry Springer is not only just a waste of space, but an ANNOYING waste of space. He does nothing but state the obvious, badly, and every time he talks I get the urge to smack him. David Hasselhoff is a waste of good air. As a judge, he's a complete moron and he loves every act. Sharon Osborne is my favorite person on the show and usually says mostly constructive things, but she occasionally forgets what the show is about and votes for completely stupid acts. Piers is actually the only honest fair judge and I find I usually agree with him, but even he panders to many acts.....like the 4-year old. And he has about zero personality. When I saw the judges put those talent-free zooperstars through to the top 20, it just solidified with me that they have no clue what talent is.

#3 problem with the show - America doesn't know actual talent when it bites them in the....you know what. In general right now I have about as much respect for Americans as the French do....when I see the whole country going gaga over Palin......but that's for another blog post. In judging for THIS show, America again is showing that they are pretty much brain-dead. Proof positive, there is a 4-year old voted through to the final 10.

Before I go any further i have to say that I hope she wins the entire show and they put her in a Los Vegas show as promised. Can you believe that she's even there? First, I sang better than her at 4....yeah she can carry a tune and looks very poised for a child. But talent? I've heard MUCH better kids....and this girl is through completely for one reason....she's cute and American audiences are so stupid that they are snowballed by a 4-year old and the irresponsible people that are allowing her to do this....her parents included or perhaps ultimately blamed.

#4 problem with the show - this ties into some of the other reasons, but I believe the outcome is determined far too much by the people running the show. For instance, during the auditions and in fact all the way through to the top 20, the writers/director/whoever of the show determined that they should show about 1 out of every 5000 acts, and get up close and personal with each of them. Good example of this is that the Kinsey Sicks were in the show this year. The show showed shots of them throughout the audition process, so I could see that they were still around performing, right up until the top 40 were picked. Yet, I never saw them give a single performance. The show simply used them for their obvious interesting looks...men in obvious drag...by sticking them in the background many times so that they would be seen, but never actually showed them perform. I would like to see WAY more actual acts and way less of the tugging on the heartstrings that they seem to think is necessary. For instance, Queen Emily....if they'd put that woman in a large vat, she would've drowned in the amount of tears they showed from her. We saw 30 seconds of her singing and 30 minutes of her blubbering.

Of the top 10, there is no act that comes within a mile of last year's winner, the best ventriloquist I've ever seen...Terry Fator. And of the top 10, there is really only one choice in my mind for an act that could actually carry a Vegas show, Nuttin But Strings. They are exciting to watch and very talented and could carry a show. The rest of the 10, forget it. Eli Mattson is very good, but he's better in intimate settings, quiet times. I can't imagine him in Vegas. Neil Boyd is good I think, although I'm not a good judge of opera, but Vegas? Queen Emily has some talent but she just gags me totally and if I see her cry one more time, I'm gonna lose it. And she's not nearly as talented as the show makes her out to be. Kaitlyn Maher, the 4 year old, is simply a joke. The Elvis and Sinatra impersonators are over-hyped and under-talented, and I can't imagine going to Vegas and seeing 90 minutes of either of them. The rest of the singers are average to annoying.

With that diatribe, you'd think I hate the show. But the truth is, it's my guilty pleasure and I still watch it.....but I'm bitching about it the entire time cause it gets me so angry when I see what the producers are doing to the show. It's the worst execution of a good premise that I've ever seen.

Kitchen is finally getting underway

2008-09-02T14:42:00.002-04:00

We've found a contractor we like a lot....someone recommended by a very picky, cost-conscious relative of George's. His name is Dave Cohen and he seems like exactly what we need, which is someone that will walk us through the process, holding our hands the whole way. I know that sounds stupid, but we are ignorant and need to have someone we feel we can trust because we could easily be lead astray.

But this guy is really a project manager, and his presentation of his estimate was extremely complete and professional, to the point where he had design suggestions that made a heck of a lot of sense. His quote was about $7k less than home depot's estimate, but we are also getting a lot more, (like 42" cabinets and removing the ugly soffits....something Home Depot never mentioned and we were getting their 30" cabinets with them.)

This week we signed a contract and gave a downpayment, and this weekend (labor day), Dave went out with us to a huge Tile/flooring store, a granite place where we got to see the actual slabs instead of 2 inch slabs at home depot, and to Lowe's. We've picked out the new cabinets, which I like better than what we were getting, and narrowed down the granite to 3 choices, 2 serious.

It feels like we are actually started now. He comes today for final measurements, then we order cabinets and start narrowing down everything else (appliances are set, GE Profile across the board, also several upgraded from the HD estimate.)

I hope by Christmas to have a whole new kitchen....and I believe our house will feel like a new house when we get it, and we'll want to quickly start doing other rooms too. Sorry Al.....I expect the kitchen to be completely ripped up when you arrive in October :).

What a Pain.....

2008-08-29T09:06:00.004-04:00

**** Warning: this post contains a whole lotta whining and complaining, and is intensely personal....it's gonna bore anyone who reads it, but it's something I need to write for myself ****

One day about 2 months ago I woke up out of bed feeling wonderful. Something seemed strange but it took me several hours to realized what it was. It had been years since I woke up feeling physically great....literally years. I wake up every day with back pain. This is something that has come on over a long period of time, and was only partially noticed by me. So I have some back pain. It was never intense, never sharp, and never something I felt was bad enough to do something about. Pop some aspirin or excedrin, do some stretching and take a hot shower and it would usually go away.

I also wake up with a lot of headaches, and those are always much more intense than the backache....thing is, the headache is almost always accompanied by a backache, but the head was what I focused on. Eventually I bought a Temporpedic bed (about 5 years ago) and that helped with the headaches quite a bit. At the same time, I learned to stretch in the mornings that I woke up with headaches....which I also started to do with backaches. And I also learned that taking blazingly hot showers helps. So those three things helped for awhile.

I've told my doctor that I suffer from backaches on a regular basis, but I never stressed it and in fact, probably played it down somewhat.....'yeah I suffer from back pain many mornings, but usually can make it go away with excedrin, stretching and hot showers'. So it's never been looked into.

I tried a massage once....did nothing much for my back and I didn't like him much so I never got another. There are a whole list of things I'd sort of like to try, acupuncture, massages of various kinds, chiropractor, back-ectomy, but I dont' want to try them for real until I rule out any major issue like serious structural problems.

I'm doing this all wrong....this posting. What I wanted to do was describe the pain, rather than whine about it, so I have something to tell the doctor when I go.

Ok, I almost always wake up with pain in my back. Usually it's fairly low-grade pain, but it is there always. It's in my extreme lower back mostly, but there is no definite spot that hurts. I think the lower back pain sometimes also causes the upper back and neck to feel stressed too, but the actual pain is down there, just above my tailbone I think. I also believe that most of my headaches are actually caused by the back.

I also almost always develop back pain or make it worse by doing the following:

1) Walking slowly like in a museum or shopping mall. Walking at a normal pace (mine is pretty fast) causes no problems at all, but put me in a museum and my back will be hurting inside 20 minutes. Even marching band doesn't hurt it.
2) Standing in place - if I have to stand in a line for long, my back will be killing me, even being careful not to lock my knees and to move around as much as I can.
2) Rollerblading causes my back to ache a lot.
3) Watching TV.....this is my own fault probably because we watch it all sitting up in bed with styrofoam back support wedge things.
4) The biggie, SLEEPING. I sleep like an absolute rock, which I suspect is part of my problem. Once I'm out, I dont' move a bit all night, so my theory is, I'm stiff the next morning from being in the same position every night. The mornings that my back feels the best are usually mornings after I sleep badly (very rare.) If I toss and turn a lot, my back doesn't hurt nearly as much.

Thing that don't seem to make it any worse:
1) Lifting things....tuba and bari has no immediate affect and seem to have no effect the next few days either. Even helping someone move doesnt' cause it to be any worse. It also doesn't hurt at all while doing actual lifting.
2) Exercise - no effect that I can see, cardio or even jogging or using the Wii
3) Sitting in front of the computer....enough hours and I'll get stiff like anyone else, but it doesn't seem to have any direct affect on my back

Things that definitely make it feel better:
1) Stretching + a hot shower + pills (excedrin migraine or ibuprofin mostly) right after I wake up. I put the shower on so hot I almost can't stand it, and leave it beating on my back for several minutes. (didnt' help this morning at all.)
2) Heating pad often helps (we have a wet-one...whatever you call them.)
3) Icy hot helps it feel better on some really bad days.

Things that have made me realize I have a problem over the last year:
1) Zero patience - I get irritated so fast over absolutely nothing that should set me off or used to. It happens with George, with good friends, with complete strangers.
2) Utterly raw emotions - I was reading the paper this morning about Bill Clinton's speech the other day and found myself bawling. I cry often....but only in the last few years. Little things also get me depressed way more than they should. And my complete outlook can turn on a dime....go from doing just fine to being in a horrible mood, and not even know why.
3) Lack of a smile on my face - I very often can't mange to even fake one. I may suffer from a small amount of depression, but generally am a very happy, well-adjusted person.
4) Conversations.....lacking badly. I find myself sitting there saying nothing and adding nothing to conversations all the time recently. It's like I feel like I have nothing important or worthwhile to say. I dont' want to blame all my problems on my back pain, but I didn't used to be like that.
5) The way I treat George - sometimes I just can't manage to be supportive like I want to and know I should. And when I get irritated with him, it's over nothing and shouldn't be happening. And he saw me smile yesterday and acted like he hadn't seen it in awhile...he may be right. He deserves better than I'm giving him right now.

Things I suspect might help but haven't tried and won't until I make sure there is no direct physical problem:
1) Regular massages
2) Heated Rock massages (forget the actual name but I've heard they do wonderful things
3) Chiropractor
4) Accupuncture - I only half believe in it, but it's worth a shot
5) Losing weight - I am obese according to Wii and the charts....not morbidly so, but obese nevertheless....that can't help. (when I did lose 45 lbs a few years back, I noticed no difference.)
6) Abs exercises - I wonder if having ab muscles would relieve the back of a lot of stress
7) More regular exercise - helps everything else

I'm tired of being in constant pain and it's really wearing on me....I've GOT to do something about it soon.

Eating some of my own Crow

2008-08-28T11:43:00.000-04:00

hehe, I also here-by eat my own words about my friend and his general Clinton-bashing. He loved Bill's speech last night and had nothing negative to say about it.

Chomp, Chomp, Chomp myself.

Sorry, my friend.

Hillary-bashing

2008-08-27T14:25:00.007-04:00

Decided to write this on my own blog rather than commenting on a friend's blog. He's much more political than I am in general and much better-informed....and when I venture into politics, I show my own ignorance (better done on my own blog where no-one will see it.) But sometimes I feel like my friend is more of a Hillary-hater than a Barack-lover. She gave what I thought was a pretty inspirational speech last night throwing her support whole-heartedly behind him and attempting to invigorate the party and unify her own supporters behind him. I went to see what my friend had to say about it. Although there were a couple of very short positive statements, in general the posting was another Hillary-slam because she didn't say the exact words he wanted to hear. (I truly believe if she had said the statement he wanted, it would've been something else she didn't say which was wrong.)

It's his blog and his opinion of course, but I find it amusing that as long as I've been reading his blog (admittedly not more than 6 months or so), I've never seen anything positive said about a Clinton without 16 negatives attached to it....and usually there's no positive there anyhow. He's already decided that Bill's speech tonight will be no better. He seems to feel very strongly against the Clintons and everything they do and stand for.... I expect that from Republicans but it always surprises me from a Democrat-leaner, and I keep going back to see if he really is as consistently negative about her as it seems. I kind of thought that might change after the primary. I just feel like at this point we should stop pointing fingers and start attempting to unify....and it seemed like that's what she was trying to do to me.

But similar to his seeming dislike for Hillary, I have a like for her and Bill, and I give them the benefit of the doubt, even when perhaps I shouldn't. I guess I'm their glass half full and he's their glass half empty :). And I've never been opinionated enough in general...I don't get very passionate about politics and usually stay away from such discussions...probably better for everyone involved.

Adventures in Tuba-sitting

2008-08-27T13:41:00.003-04:00

I've had two weeks playing tuba so far in band rehearsals. Practicing on my own is not a good barometer of how I'll be when I'm in a group, so I was very curious to see how I did.

So far, the results are mixed. I'm both better than I feared I'd be, and much worse than I'd like to be. I guess what I naively didn't count on is that the music we're playing is extremely difficult. It seems like every piece is a grade 6, and there are parts of it that I'm certain I couldn't play if I practiced 3 hours a day until the concert. Those things are usually fast passages....and at least one piece has 16th and 32nd notes in the tuba part....and quite fast tempo too. Ain't happenin....at least no where near cleanly. The best part about my own musical ability is that even when I can't play something and am strugging through it, I don't get lost....it's a VERY rare occasion for me to be lost to the point where I can't find my way back on track within 4 bars or so. This Monday we were playing a piece called Niagara Falls (initial impression was utter hatred of it) and at one point, I was just royally lost. And shocked because of it. George was shocked when I told him too because he'd never heard of me feeling lost while playing before.

The new conductor so far is treating the entire group like we are professional musicians, which in my opinion is a big mistake. If I'm getting lost, then I can only imagine what others must be feeling, and the conductor isn't offering much help. Our group consists of such a wide range of musicians that when you do that, it starts to drive people away because they don't feel like they are keeping up. I've already heard from a few friends who are very unhappy at the moment, and I'm a bit worried about that. If I hadn't been in the group for so long, I might also be unhappy. There are going to be unhappy people no matter what happens, but I do hope that the intent is not to drive people out. But Joe deserves a chance to do what he intends to do with the group before I pass judgement on him (like I have any right anyhow), and that's not going to happen in a couple of rehearsals. I'm trying to go with the flow and see what happens.

But back to tuba....I'm also struggling more with the transposition than I thought I would. Again, that could be because the music is so hard to begin with....take that difficult music and try to sight-transpose it and you're doubling the difficulty. Add to that an unfamiliarity with the instrument itself, and sometimes a struggle to get a pitch to speak out of the horn at all, and I guess you can't expect too much.

On the upside, each day I pick it up, and I really am practicing a lot more than I normally do, it gets a bit better. I still hope that by band camp, I'll be playing and feeling ok about it.

On the other hand, I have also switched to trombone in Swing Band. I probably have less actual experience playing a trombone than I did a tuba, so you'd think I'd stink on that even worse. But I was a euphonium player originally....which uses the same mouthpiece and therefore embouchure as the trombone....same basic breath support too. (when the heck did I develop this habit of using ..... constantly in everything I write.....?)

Now my entire experience of playing a trombone was marching with it one year about 15 years ago, which means I played 3 very simple tunes and nothing else before or since. And I practiced tuba every day prior to the first rehearsal...and ignored trombone completely until the night before the first rehearsal. Yet I already play it a lot better than tuba, and had no problems in swing band. The big difference between trombone and euphonium of course is using the slide and getting in the right place, but I knew the basics. I'm not too exact on it yet, but I have a good ear and adjust quickly when I'm off. I felt really good about it that night. I get one more rehearsal, then a gig. But it doesn't worry me at all and in fact is fun so far. I'm a bit disappointed that I haven't gotten any feedback on either instrument....guess I need some validation that I'm helping more than harming, and people probably don't expect me to need that.

Last night I finally got to play a familiar instrument again. We had Sax in the City rehearsal and it was great as always. This group is even getting Jive for Five performance-ready. Last night we got all the way through it and surprised ourselves how decent it sounded. I'm finally starting to win everyone else over to that piece I think. It was really nice playing the bari again...felt like it had been months since I played an instrument I sort of knew how to play. (again I'm not a real bari player...but I've been doing it longer and feel more successful on it.)

I just wish I had somewhere to also play trumpet right now....love that instrument and prefer playing it to most others, but no one ever seems to need or want me on it. (band has 15 trumpets now.) I still want to play it on the small ensemble concert but need to get my act together soon if I'm going to do that.

Lol, saxes want to play at band camp like we did last year. That's fine and I want to as well, but I am wondering exactly how I'm going to get myself, my sleeping bag and clothes, music stand, tuba AND Bari sax all to band camp in my Pontiac Solstice (two-seater convertible with virtually no trunk.) That should be most interesting!

Little Sis

2008-08-22T14:21:00.006-04:00

My youngest sister Allyn was born on January 23rd, 1957. She was named Allyn Michelle....our family always pronounced it like Alan. I can't remember exactly where my Mom got that name, but she decide much later it should've been pronounced 'Al-lynn'. Nah....my other sisters already had weird names....so should Allyn! Allyn was a good baby, but grew up to be a pistol, and a thorn in my mother's side as they often didnt' see eye to eye during the high school years....hehe.

Four years later almost to the day, I arrived to spoil her 4th birthday....lol. Being born 4 years and 1 day apart, we usually got to share birthdays, something neither of us really liked much (not like we got similar clothes....just had to share our day.) I always felt guilty for spoiling her birthdays, especially that fourth one when my Mom was probably in a TERRIBLE mood..

Being the youngest when I was born, you'd think she might've resented the 'new kid' my parents brought home, but from the get-go I think I was really a novelty to all my sisters. They were old enough no longer to be babies themselves, but got both the pleasure and pain of being there to help raise the only boy in the family and the new baby.

I was probably always closest to Allyn growing up, partially due to age, and partially due to our personalities. We had a very interesting relationship....from the earliest time I can remember, Allyn treated me half like her bratty little brother, but equally the other half like her friend. One of the most interesting phenomenon between us was that she and I fought like cats and dogs constantly.....if there were any adults around. If adults weren't around, she and I almost never argued and we got along great.

My very first specific memory of Allyn was when we were outside and she was sitting on my tricycle and I wanted it. So I grabbed the handlebars and SHOOK it as hard as I could. I did something to her which hurt her 'down there' and caused my mother to have a 'talk' with me about what I had 'done to my sister' and how 'girls are different than boys'. To this day, I haven't a clue what I actually did (she couldn't been more than 7-8), but it was the first time I realized that girls have 'mysterious parts' that boys don't have. It was all very mysterious and I have wondered since I was 4 if I did some permanent 'damage'....once I grew up I wondered if it somehow damaged her virginity or something. I STILL don't know and still think women are very mysterious....lol. (45 years later you'd think I might stop wondering.)

One of my early vivid memories of Allyn was when our dog, Kimmy died. I think I was around 7-8, which made her 11-12. It was our first experience with death and we lived it together....we were very upset and slept together for a few nights to comfort each other....which stretched into a much longer period of time because we had so much fun talking and laughing at night once we got over Kimmy's death. Mom finally had to tell us to stop sleeping together...lol.

I always looked up to Allyn....she was smart, pretty, talented....and a great friend to me. She told me everything about everything going on in her life. She met Brad Stotz when she was a freshman in high school, and was immediately smitten, with both him and his best friend Dennis at the same time. But throughout high school and a couple years after she dated Brad off and on....they argued all the time and he didn't treat her very well a lot of the time (nothing remotely abusive or anything, just a high school jock boy's treatment of his girl. They took a break after high school, while he grew up a bit, and eventually got back together and are still married today. ) During all that time, Allyn told me everything that went on....virtually every detail. It was pretty amazing to be part of my sister's growing up. I got to experience (2nd hand) first kisses, proms, cheerleading and other tryouts, confusion over 2 boys at once (or more at times), experimenting with sex and drugs, arguing with Mom, etc, etc. Throughout while we were in private, Allyn treated me with respect and as a friend and sounding board. In public, she'd barely speak to me....and vice versa (I suppose we were competing for adult attention or something weird like that.)

I blame my sisters, and especially Allyn for the fact that I'm gay. I mean come on....I had easy access to Barbies and batons and cheerleading outfits, I kept hearing how 'that boy was so CUTE' and what it was like to experience a kiss, etc.... and I think the general lusting after boys caused me to want them too!

rofl...of course that's completely ridiculous. But now that I know she might read this posting, just HAD to say it! I already blamed her earlier in another post for causing me to eternally feel fat, so may as well blame her for this too. Now, how can I blame her for my back problems and lack of money? I'll have to work on that.

Somewhere along the way, some teacher or two convinced Allyn that she wasn't smart. She struggled with academics more than the other three. But trust me, Allyn was and is extremely smart....I've always believed there are book-smarts and street-smarts. Book-smarts is learning stuff fast and taking tests well....and unfortunately what a lot of things are based on. Street-smarts (to me) is knowing people, understanding them, and having common sense. Allyn has more street-smarts than most people I know. She always 'got' me. She's plenty book-smart too, although she doesn't believe it....sort of like me never believing I look could possibly good, she will always believe she's not smart....but she's the only one who believes it.

Allyn is also the only good communicator in our family...we suck at calling, writing, communicating in any way other than being there, but she's a cut above (despite resenting the rest of us a bit for the way we are....and she's right about it.) She also has fabulous taste....wish I had a 10th her taste in decorating and clothing. And she is the one person I know who always buys the right gift....seeming to know what each of us wants even before we do.

Allyn and I are still good friends and I believe always will be. She's one person I can always talk to. I am a Swope, and suck at communicating like we all do, but when I see Allyn or hear from her, it's like we've never been apart for a moment. I'm sorry we've never lived in the same town together because I suspect we'd hang out a lot together too.

I have enormous respect and a lot of love for my sister Allyn.

Re-doing the Kitsch-en

2008-08-22T13:22:00.004-04:00

Ok, so I used that title just for attention...lol, it sounded better. And rather like an acronym which comes into existence because it sounds good, and then making up words to match the letters in the acronym, now I need to come up with the reason that it's a good title. When we had some plumbing work done in our kitchen and they cut holes in our ceiling more than a year ago...I covered up the holes with art.....line drawings of animals I'd gotten from a street vendor in Quebec years ago....kitschy art! I put them up as a joke when family was coming to visit, and they are still there. There, neatly tied in a bow for ya.

Right now we have the world's most boring kitchen....builder grade appliances and cabinets, formica and linoleum, 12 inch soffits near the ceiling (so they could put in cheaper cabinets)...everything as basic as you can get, and now it's all 18 years old since the house was built in 1990. The dishwasher hasn't worked in 10 years (unless you call me the dishwasher...) and kitchen badly laid out and a big waste of space.

So we are re-doing it...our first major house renovation. We went first to home Depot, picked out everything, got the whole design done, then they came back with a labor estimate nearly double the parts estimate. So now we are getting more estimates, deciding how we can cut down costs, etc. We are not going with Home Depot and have since gotten another estimate for $7k less which actually includes a lot more stuff. Even though we could save money by doing things ourselves, George and I are just not do-ers and really, really want to just have some one do it all. We are rather inept and also hate doing it.

The saga is probably just beginning. I'm the type that would like to leave the house in the morning, and come back at night with the kitchen re-done. Anyone have any recommendations for someone who could do that for us? And of course they must have impeccable taste and able to do it for half of what Home Depot wanted.

come on, make these comments useful to me!

Olympic-sized break

2008-08-20T14:11:00.004-04:00

Haven't been writing too much lately....in fact, haven't been breathing or eating or working much lately. This is because the Olympics are on....I've Tivo'd more of it than I can possibly ever watch and am spending every waking moment that I can get watching it.

The whole Phelps saga was just amazing....he's an incredible athlete and seems like a down-to-earth nice guy on top of it. And anyone who is so dedicated to anything like he is, is someone to admire in my book. I actually remember when Mark Spitz won the 7 golds and loved that too, but it was the first Olympics I watched, so I didn't truly appreciate what he accomplished until years later. I didn't expect to see it repeated in my lifetime by anyone, much less a local boy and American. And he has years of swimming left.

Usually I love gymnastics and although I enjoyed it, I've skipped a lot of it this year because I have so much other stuff taped. I prefer the non-primetime stuff because it's not so heavily geared towards only the sports that Americans do well in and also not so heavily prejudiced for Americans. I mean, listening to commentary on primetime, you'd think every American is heavily favored in their sport and any loss is a major upset and surprise. That's just stupid.

I've loved watching Ping Pong, regular volleyball, women's basketball and soccer, badminton, the women's marathon, the cycling time-trials and other events, rowing of various kinds, even air rifle. Dressage did bore the bejeezes out of me but I tried to watch it anyhow...lol. I've watched a bit of Greco-roman wrestling and am looking forward to a lot more freestyle this week...always been into wrestling for many reasons. I'm even taping the synchronized swimming and rhythmic gymnastics and looking forward to it.

I LOVE the Olympics....just wish I had some friends who enjoyed it like I do. I'm lucky to find any other gay men who even realize they are ON these two weeks. George isn't even into it this year...he's pretended to be in the past, but I can tell he's completely bored right now...poor dear.

Michael Phelps inspired me though....next Olympics I'm going to break his record and win 9 gold medals in one Olympics....but I'm going to do it in 9 different sports: Swimming the 400IM, Basketball, Ping Pong, Men's gymnastics all-around, triathlon, 100-yard dash, Pentathlon, Beach Volleyball, and 86Kg women's weightlifting. I'd better get cracking.....

Tieing the Knot

2008-08-13T09:14:00.004-04:00

George and I are traveling to San Diego over the Columbus Day weekend to get married. Since I'd never really considered it before, I'm a bit surprised….here’s how and why it’s happening.

I wish I could say it was incredibly romantic, that I proposed in a fit of love and devotion out of the blue, or some-such…but that’s not the reality. Basically, our very good friends Chris and Paula, who we have traveled with a few times in the past and who I play Swing music with, are from San Diego before they came to DC 15 years ago. They met and fell in love there. The four of us have talked very seriously about retiring together….trying to find a gay retirement area that we all like, because we all get along so well and would like to retire near friends in a place where we all feel comfortable being ourselves and can still play music together.

Well, they approached us a month or so ago to tell us that they were going there to get married and wanted to know if we’d want to join them in any aspect of it. They encouraged us to also get married but wanted us to at least come stand with them, regardless of whether we decided to also get married. They have all the contacts out there, a person to do the ceremony, connections to how to legally apply and all that. Essentially, doing it with them helps make it really easy….and I also have a good friend in San Diego (Jim Tompkins from college.)

This is something that George and I had never even discussed. The main reason I want to be married is the legal protections it can bring. And even though it’s only legal in California and places that recognize it (which currently would be only New York State), it’s a step in the right direction. And if other states ever begin to recognize its legality, it would ease my mind a lot about our future. My big fear has always been one of us getting injured and the other not even being able to BE there with them because we are not married or next of kin. It may only be legal in California for a month too, as there is a referendum in California in November to ban gay marriage, reversing the ability to get married. The vote is going to be very close too. My understanding though is that it is not retroactive, and those marriages performed until that time will still be legal there, which means they would also be recognized in NY and any other state that begins to recognize them in the future.

So no, it’s not that romantic, but I didn’t need the romantic aspect of marriage. I’ve been married for 18 years already….just didn’t have a document to prove it. It’s also not a political statement of any kind. I respect the fact that many people do not think it should ever be legalized, although I do not respect their reasons behind it. I’ve never heard one I even believed was vaguely valid. I’m not asking for anyone’s blessing or acceptance, but I hope and believe that most everyone we choose to tell will be happy for us.

We’re not planning to make a big deal of it….and will be married on the Beach by a friend of Chris and Paula’s, probably with only them there, and perhaps my local friend. We’ll probably have a party when we get home (and our kitchen is done.)

Many people seem to have their weddings planned from the time they are 10. Neither of us have ever considered marriage before, so neither of us had any desires for a particular kind of ceremony or have even thought about rings or what we'll wear or anything like that. It's not important to us, the ceremonial aspect of it....simple is best.

The only people who we've told is our sisters at this point....George's sister Debbie, and my three sisters. I wanted to tell my sisters first to ask their opinion on whether i should tell my parents, although I believed I should. They were wonderful when I told them I was gay, so I didn't have too much doubt that they'll accept this too. I think they probably don't believe in it since they ARE Republican, but at the same time, I know how they feel about me and George and they are active parts of our lives. They already treat George like another son. So I will definitely tell them.

I'll tell any friends who care to know, but again probably won't push it.

I already love George and long ago decided that my life would be spent with him, and he made that same choice. This doesn't change that in any way other than to put it on a piece of paper.

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

2008-08-01T14:05:00.003-04:00

Well, the decision of what to play this fall in DCDD was finally made, thanks to help from a friend. I was realy agonizing about what to play this year.

1) Had a 'falling out' with French Horn this year and needed to step away from it for awhile.
2) Wanted to play Trumpet, but found out we already had plenty and they not only don't need me, but don't really want me to play it.
3) Could've played Euphonium, which was my main instrument, but wasn't really into it as I don't have a good horn and the band also doesn't need them.
4) Percussion was on my mind until I found out we have 9 coming this fall...definitely didn't need another.
5) Wanted to play what the band needed most, tuba, but had no instrument and found out that most places don't rent them or have extremely limited selections of them to rent.

About 2 weeks ago I was beginning to get really worried cause it looked like I had nothing to play that I wanted to play. But awhile back I had asked my friend Scott (a real tuba-player....shut-up Scott, it's true) to help me pick out a rental tuba and he had agreed. So when I told him that was off because there were none to be found, he very kindly and graciously out of the blue, offered to loan me HIS tuba. I was floored, but immediately excited and now it looks like I'm going to be playing tuba afterall. Thanks SOOOOOO much Scott!

Just to prove that I really AM crazy, I also decided to switch from Bari Sax to Trombone in Swing band (had been considering it for awhile and we really need them badly).....AND managed to get Stonewall brass moving forward, which means that I'll still be playing some French Horn...and I still have Bari in the sax quartet. AND I'm attempting to get good enough on Claude Bolling's Toot Suite to play trumpet at the small ensemble concert next fall.

So....I'm learning two new instruments, Trombone and Tuba - and the Tuba is a C Tuba meaning I also have to transpose everything - and still playing two others in groups and another as a solo. But the craziest part is, there are four different brass instruments all with radically different mouthpiece sizes (ok, Horn and trumpet are pretty close.)

And none of these instruments are my real one. I really hope I can handle this.

And I'm also doing all of this while under a new conductor who is going to simply think I'm a lousy tuba player and completely nuts.

Oh well, never claimed to be sane :).

Mom

2008-07-25T12:34:00.005-04:00

I find myself sitting at my desk crying at the moment...moved to tears by the pain of a dear friend, who lost his mother a few days ago. She was about the same age as my own parents. I've been incredibly lucky to still have both of my parents at 83 and 81, who celebrated their 60th anniversary 2 days ago, and who are both doing well.

My friend David, one of the sweetest guys I know in the world, wasn't so lucky. Although I didn't know his mother personally, I know the results of part of her work in this world, in the form of her son. He always has a smile on his face and a kind word for people, and he gives an incredible amount of time and energy to anything he gets involved in. He handles responsibilities well, without letting it affect the way he treats people he has to deal with to do it. He has a great sense of humor and a great outlook on life. And he's been very good to me in many many ways.

From that, I know that his mother did a heck of a lot of things right in this world. I know he is hurting and is really going to miss her and my heart goes out to you David. If there's any way I can help....

What a waste of talent!

2008-07-18T11:38:00.008-04:00

Question of the day....have I wasted my God-given talent?

Here's the situation. From the time I was a very little kid, it was obvious that I had some musical talent. I had a lovely soprano boys voice and I was singing solos in church by the time I was 5. I had three older sisters who were in high school, and when they needed a little kid to play a part in the high school musical, it was usually me. I played the young son in the main family in Bye Bye Birdie, and although I don't remember details, I am told that I sang at least one solo, had a bunch of lines, and sang my individual part in a quartet (and that 2 of the other members of the quartet could barely handle their parts and would instead follow me)....and this was in 2nd grade. In third grade I donned blackface and played a young black kid in Finian's Rainbow. (we had no African Americans in our small town....and trust me, I didn't know there was anything wrong with it at the time.) They also had variety shows at the high school, but somehow I was always in them....once singing three songs from Oliver.

When I was old enough to play an instrument....I chose trumpet so that I could be like that gorgeous red-faced 1st chair trumpet player (named Roll Shepherd) that sat in front of my sister Monya in band. I couldn't take my eyes off him.....and this wasn't lust cause I was about 8....I wanted to BE him.

This was when my problem first reared it's head....as a singer everything came naturally to me. Now I suddenly had to learn something completely different, and commit to it. I played on a hand-me-down trumpet that my Dad played in high school, then two of my sisters played it. By the time I played it, there were holes in the lead pipe and it was on it's last legs. At the end of my 5th grade year (first full year of playing the horn) each student had to get up and play a brief solo in front of parents and friends, etc to show what they'd learned. I had really struggled and had procrastinated and not practiced, so I knew I wouldn't be good. I got up in front of what seemed like the whole world, couldn't get a note to come out of the horn, and ran down off the stage crying. I gave up band completely then and there. Luckily a very astute teacher knew my background and refused to let it happen. She convinced me that the problem was physical, that my lips were too big for trumpet, and I should try other instruments. When I asked what ones, she said perhaps French Horn (already had two sisters playing that one so I knew what it was) or Baritone. I had never heard of it, so she showed me one and I blew on it. Almost instantly I was 100 times better, so switched on the spot and kept playing it through college.

I guess I practiced some in middle school, but found I was ahead of most of the rest of the people and didn't need to practice much to play my parts in band well. By 7th grade I had a big solo in band.....guess I'd improved quickly from running off stage crying. In high school, my band director recognized that I had talent and put me in a small ensemble. Although I rarely ever practiced, I played a lot and got pretty good. I didn't have much to compare myself against, so I had no idea how good until I got 2nd chair in an all-state band. Still, I never took it seriously and didn't practice much.

In college, I expected to be way down the list of players, but found that I was the best euphonium player on campus as a freshman. This is not bragging...it's just how it was. There were only 3 other euphonium majors and they were mediocre. (But I went to Miami of Ohio, which was not known as a music school.) Now in college I tried to practice more....but next to other students, I just never put in the time.

Still, I was the best euphonium player and one of the top musicians in the school as a senior.....and this without really practicing much.

Somewhere along the way, I just never learned to commit to practicing, and got by on raw talent. It's still true today. In DCDD I've played several instruments, and some would claim that I pull it off quite well. But I know the truth. I get by because I learned to be a reasonably good musician over the years, but I've never truly been good on any one instrument because I'm constantly switching around, sometimes performing on more than one at a time.

It's come back to bite me this past year because for the last 10 years or so in band, I've been playing French Horn. This is not an instrument that you just pick up, usually. It's got to be one of the hardest instruments to play and certainly the hardest brass instrument, because its partials are so close together. I always say that it barely matters what valve you put down on horn because you can get any note to speak with almost any valves (rotors) down. So for 10 years, I got by again on raw musical ability.....and I almost never practiced it. Yet somehow I managed and was usually playing the first parts (helps that I'm musically fearless too.) For 10 years I've felt largely like I was faking it, successfully. This past year, suddenly I feel like I've lost it. I no longer am playing it well and everything I do sounds crappy to me. The only way to get over it is to practice....so since our last concert, the horn has sat in the bathroom waiting for a bath....and not even getting THAT much attention. I can't seem to face the horn to fight through it. Instead, I'm ready to switch instruments again.

Why is this? I seem to have been born without the practice gene or the committment gene. Practicing for me is torture. I like to PLAY, not practice. It's weird and I'm ashamed of it, but can't seem to change it, because it is who I am.

Many people probably believe that I've wasted the talent I was given. I'll never be well known (deservedly so) for playing. The main place that I play is a gay community band, for usually very small audiences. I've never achieved a high level of success on any one instrument.

I could be GOOD, damnit.

But the truth is....at least I was smart enough to know myself at a fairly early age. I knew my limits in high school, and even while I was considered one of the best in my college, I knew I was not achieving the level I could...and why. And I made a decision at some point that I was going to have music play an important role in my life, without it becoming my career.....and that was a very smart decision.

Music is my hobby and my passion. I love it and I love playing in groups. I wish I was more committed and wish I felt like I did more than get by. I'll always wonder what I might've achieved if I had been a little different than I am. But I don't sit around worrying about it (much), and I'm happy with the amount of it I have in my life.

Wasted my talent? No...I just used it in a different way than other people might've. Regrets? sure...but not many. I'm mostly happy with what I've done with music in my life. I'm proud of the little successes I've had, and proud to be a part of my little band, DCDD. That organization is much more than just a community band...it's the source of most of my friends, and most of my social life as well.

Big Sis

2008-07-15T11:08:00.002-04:00

I have three older sisters, nine, seven and four years older than I was. Each time my mom was pregnant, she and my dad were convinced it was a boy and picked out boy names, etc. Each time, they got a girl. When I came along, they'd sort of given up on boys and decided I was a girl (My name was to be Melanie.)

In any case, I ended up in a family dominated by women....my mother was always more strong-willed than my father, and all my sisters were older than me....so women ran the house, pretty much. This may be one reason my dad and I are still pretty laid back and not very assertive.

My oldest sister was born on March 3rd, 1952 and was named Monya Ellen. It's pronounced like Tanya with an M. (I think my Mom knew someone named Monya in high school and just liked the name.) She was a great baby, rarely crying, beautiful in looks, inquisitive, etc. My mom said the only time she cried much was when she went in the car.....ironically, my middle sister Genilee was constantly crying her first two years....except when she went in the car, where she would stop (and Monya would take over.)

I wasn't there for her first 9 years, but she was also a very smart kid, and grew up to be the beauty in the family. By the time I got there, she was definitely running the non-parental part of the family. Monya was very strong-willed, and quite clever, so she was the one that got the kids to 'do things'....some fun and productive, but also the one who caused the kids to get in trouble when they followed her lead in the wrong direction. I can remember her leading us to do an elaborate Christmas play every year for our parents....can remember her being the one who got us to play 'horses' every night after dinner, where we retired to the living room and two of us (and sometimes my dad) were horses, and the little ones rode them around. I can remember her making all four of us run away at least once or twice together. (we usually went to the garage and hid...lol.)

My biggest memory of Monya from my childhood was the respect she commanded from all of us. She was smart, beautiful and just seemed to always have it completely together. Because she was the oldest, she probably also had it the toughest from my parents. She had to fight to extend curfews, come home from dates to my Mother waiting in the living room, and live with all of the things that over-protective parents often do....then relax some with the younger kids.

Another very important memory was that she told me that I had to do only one thing for her in my lifetime....and that was to grow taller than her because she was the tallest on in my family by several inches (still only 5'7" and 3/4). I made the promise, and eventually followed through at a HUGE 5'8". It was 1/4 of an inch, but enough to satisfy us both :).

I was incredibly proud of my oldest sister....she was in high school plays and musicals, was in a singing group, was 1st or 2nd runner up in at least 3-4 beauty pageants like homecoming queen. She should've won too. She was the head majorette, which meant she lead the marching band around town....played French Horn in band. To me, she was amazing.

She also offered me a lot of first experiences. She was the first person I knew who left home and went off to college, first one I knew to fall in love, get married, have children, etc.

I remember the day she came home from college (Soph year I think) talking about her three current boyfriends (she'd always had a lot of them.) One of them was a guy that she talked about in reverant terms almost, how gorgeous he was, how exciting, how he had a MOTORCYCLE, etc, lol. His name was Jim Sauernheimer, and I think I was seeing a first glimpse at new love. She married him less than a year later and they are still together after 35 years.

The marriage was planned and executed in under 3 weeks because they became pregnant early. It was a HUGE scandal to my mother and it was awhile before they got past it, but they somehow pulled off a lovely wedding in 3 weeks. I was 4 days shy of 12 and it was my first wedding and my first champagne (hated it).

So 7 months later, I also had my first niece, Sondra....and my first experiences holding a baby, changing her, babysitting, all that. Two years later, they had Tara....both girls are lovely (and now Tara is about to hit 30 and has a great son of her own, CJ.)

For about 5 years, Monya and Jim lived about 30-50 miles from us, so we saw them a lot. I babysat a lot and spent lots of time with them in general. Then they moved away to Texas, where the girls grew up and they stayed until about 5 years ago when they moved to Chicago. By the way, I've always loved Jim too...he and she were the perfect match. He was able to rein in her strong will when needed, but they appear to always compromise and truly enjoy being together after all these years too.

Now Monya and I know and love each other as adults. We see each other on average probably only about once a year, but she and I relate well to each other and never have awkwardness from time apart. She's still beautiful at 55 and I still consider her the 'class' of the family. She raised two great kids (with Jim of course), travels quite a bit, and still comes off as completely 'together' and is someone I admire a lot. I found out over the years that she, like many folks, doesn't have much confidence in herself. That was a shocking revelation. She doesnt' see herself as I always have.

I feel like this blog entry isn't doing her justice at all...sorry Monya! (she'll never read it.)

One of Bush's more intelligent moments....

2008-07-14T13:20:00.000-04:00

President Bush was briefed on Iraq this morning and was told that three Brazilian solders were killed.

To everyone's amazement, all of the color ran from Bush's face, then he collapsed onto his desk, head in hands, visibly shaken, almost whimpering.

Finally, he composed himself and asked, "Just exactly how many is a brazillion?"

OMG, I'm an old CAT lady!

2008-07-09T13:34:00.005-04:00

I grew up with dogs....our family always had one, and only one dog at a time. I was 100% a dog person in my mind. My mother tells me that before I was around, the family also usually had a cat which ran the house (as well as the dog.) She tells me stories of her cat that taught itself to use the toilet rather than a litterbox, and of the cat that had kittens in the doghouse, and wouldn't let the dog near its own house again. The last cat we had was supposedly wonderful until the day that one of my sisters shut her up in a room all day, forcing it to break it's litter habits. And from then on, it would never go back to the box and ruined the house. That was it for cats for our family and all before I was even 2.

So I never had a cat other than one VERY wild kitten that 'followed me home' one day. (although I don't remember it, my guess is that I was extremely encouraging to the kitten to 'follow me'.) That cat was nuts and was extremely wild and unfriendly. I eventually became it's enemy and it mine....and my Dad eventually dropped it off at a farm to live as a barn cat.

That was it until I became an adult and wanted 'an animal'. I wasn't settled enough yet for a dog, so instead I got a cat. I named her Scheherazade after one of my favorite pieces of music, and called her Shay. My sister also got a cat, Winston (after George) and they grew up for 7 years together while we lived together. When we split, we weren't splitting the cats up, so she took them both.

This was Shay in her twilight years

After the boys were 5 years old and George and I were on our own, I decided I was getting a cat. I was going to get an Abbysinian until my sister ended up taking in a cat that was pregnant. She had 6 kittens, 3 matched pairs. Two were pure tigers, two were tigers with white paws and the last two were golden tigers (ok, orange tabbys but gold sounds classier!) She convinced me of course that I HAD to take more than one. When they were born and were about 3 weeks old, I went to see them for the first time. They barely had eyes open or were walking, yet one of them split apart from the rest and came directly to me....one of the gold ones. He had apparently picked me and I was happy to take him. I really didn't want twins so spent the next 4 visits trying to decide on a second one. The original gold one ignored me from there out, but the OTHER gold one kept showing an incredible personality.....and I just had to have him too. That's how I ended up with two that look identical to most people (not to me at all.)

Rachi is nearer and although looks bigger is, actually the smaller one.

I decided to keep with the musical cats theme and named them after two of my favorite composers, Copeland and Rachmoninov (who I call Rachi, pronounced Rocky.)

I'm not sure how often I was told, 'what are you NUTS? You have three Jack Russels and you're getting a cat.....those dogs will kill that poor cat!'. I read that JRs don't do well with cats too, so I was nervous. The boys had never been around one other than at my sisters house, where they would spend the whole day nervous wrecks because they smelled CAT.

I'm either crazy or smart....not sure which, but I wasn't really worried. The day I brought the kittens home, the boys were very happy.....Daddy brought us SNACKS! They didn't attack, but they were nervous wrecks, were very interested in these furry things and wanted to be in their faces. We had a very nervous first week and George and I slept in different rooms to make sure that when animals were together they were supervised. Spike was the worst, looking like he really wanted them for dinner and just being very nervous. But Spike was also my smart one....and figured out that they were not to be touched. After 3-4 days, he relaxed and his brothers relaxed with him, and we had harmony in the house from there out. The dogs have never so much as snarled at the cats, and the cats thought they were good friends from the get-go.

Rachi (front) Copeland, Spike and Skippy....obviously we get along now.

I got SOOOOOO Lucky with these cats as they have personality out the ying-yang. Copeland, the tiny kitten who broke out of the pack at 3 weeks old to claim me, still does the same thing to this day. Every time anyone comes to the house, that cat is IN THEIR FACE immediately. He greets everyone and won't leave them alone, acting like he's their best friend. If they don't pay attention to him, he insists....and has scared a few non-cat people because of it...lol. Now have you ever heard of a cat that acts like that? Most cats disappear when a stranger walks into the house.

Copeland....Mr Laid back...and he's usually ON his back asleep
Copeland..... doing his CAT Scan impression.

Now Rachi, if Copeland weren't around, would be considered one of the friendliest cats you've ever seen. He also comes out to greet strangers, just isn't as insistent that they PAY ATTENTION to him...lol. But he never hides, and comes out immediately to say hi. He's just not as likely to be in your lap because he's more of a Daddy's boy. That cat spends about half his life lounging on me....on my lap, on my chest, next to me. He's almost as equal with George too, but isn't as likely to be like that with people he doesnt' know.

Rachi in his usual spot
To demonstrate how outgoing these cats are, I'll take you back to our last party (may have been the millenium). All 5 of my animals were out at the beginning of the party because I had no shrinking violets. But the dogs eventually got bored and left, going upstairs to find a quiet spot. Whereas my cats were out in the living room during the ENTIRE party. In fact, Copeland fell asleep in a drunken slumber and will never live it down.

I adore my cats. Rachi became my special one when Bruiser left me. he was already special, but he's the only one who really filled the hole in my heart because he's equally special. he talks to me....he'll meow and I'll answer (also meowing) and he'll answer back...we can do it for 5 minutes. I dont' understand a word he's saying, but he still says it with a very earnest look on his face and acts like he understands me. He's the lickingest cat I've ever seen.....licks anything and everything including cleaning up Skippy. If I put a finger up to his face, it'll be licked inside 2 seconds every single time, even if he's nearly asleep.

The ONLY time he ever pulls back from me or acts like he doesnt' want me to pick him up is in the morning when I'm about to leave for work. he'll be friendly and in my face all morning, but once my shoes go on and he knows I'm leaving, he'll act like he's disgusted if I touch him at all. He's obviously pissed cause he knows I'm going.

Copeland is a great cat too, and both of them are even better than Shay was.....she was special, just different, and eventually not mine anymore. But Rachi is my constant companion, and is also an incredibly beautiful animal. I do apologize to my friends and relatives with allergies, but I have to have my cats.

Although I still love dogs and consider myself still also a dog person, I guess I'm officially a cat person now too. I doubt that I'll ever be without one again....not so sure about dogs. I will try my best not to have 9 cats at one time though (or 200 either).......then I would have to declare myself a 'crazy old cat lady'. (old cat man just doesnt' sound right!)

I don't feel like writing today

2008-07-07T14:22:00.001-04:00

So I won't!

What is this place??

2008-07-02T13:37:00.006-04:00

Suddenly I found myself at the base of an enormous tree, or perhaps tree city is a better description. As I stared towards the lower branches of the tree some 20 body lengths above me, I spotted several hanging bridges going from that tree to other similarly huge trees nearbye. I could see platforms resting comfortably in the trees and buildings on the platforms.

To my amazement, a platform directly above my head lowered towards me and as it reached the ground, I saw a beautiful woman...no wait, a beautiful ELF?! step off the platform and go past me. 'What the'.....I thought, and stepped onto the platform she had vacated. As the platform rose into the tree I found myself nervous, but excited by what this strange new place might have to offer.

Arriving on a much larger platform, I stepped into what was indeed a large city. Many creatures were all around me, mostly elves, but also a few humans, dwarves, gnomes and a few other types. I tried speaking to some of them, but no one seemed to understand my words....until one kind elf took pity on a poor inexperienced boy and offered me some advice on how to get around and communicate in this world. Eventually I thanked him and left the tree city to explore this world further.

This was my first experience in a massive multiplayer on-line role-playing game....and it was truly stunning to feel like you have walked into an alternative universe for the first time. The game was called Everquest, and I was hooked quickly. Yeah I was staring at a computer monitor, but I found myself completely immersed in this world. I've always been a game player, and I've always loved Fantasy books and anything involving magic and magical creatures.

I had played a game called Diablo for almost a year before this, and although it had a bit of interaction and involved magical worlds, it was really a simple game where you took a premade character and directed them through a world, killing skeletons and other creatures and picking up loot to improve yourself when they died. I had a lot of fun with it, but finished the game about 15-20 times and got pretty bored. I was waiting around for Diablo 2 when I heard about this MMORPG phenom....and thought I'd give one a try.

When Diablo 2 came out....I was already completely hooked and never really played it. It was a children's game in comparison.

Everquest was the first of these kinds of games to really take off, and I know why. The world was beautiful and interesting, and gameplay was fun (although pretty repetative.) It has it's problems, but they did enough things right to truly capture people for the first time in this sort of environment. I played that game for about 5 years total....I eventually was playing 4-6 hours a day every day, and it was never enough. In order to make it to the top guilds (groups of players that raid together) you had to play more than that. There were days where I would play upwards of 18 hours in ONE day....call in sick and spend the entire day at the computer. It sucked away all of my extra time, and I'm not quite sure how I managed to have a life during that time.

I know it annoyed George at times, but he was always wonderful about it, and I took advantage because I loved it. This was finally Dungeons and Dragons come alive! (almost.) I had three Everquest accounts so that I could play on at least 2 computers at once with more than one character. I had about 10 characters that made it into the 60s in levels (tops at the time.) My first main was called Dalomir and was a male wood elf ranger. The city I described was the Wood Elf main city, and of course they live in trees. When Dalomir got to about level 15, a friend started playing with me and I changed to a female wood elf druid named Kolina. She remained my main character until I got into the 50s and into a guild that needed warriors. (poor Dal never made it to level 50 even.) At that point I switched to Berg Gerr.....a HUGE Ogre warrior who was one of the main tanks in our guild. It was fun role-playing an Ogre, but I always felt like I was really that female wood elf druid.

I was one of those crazy people who spent real live money on virtual items for my characters in the game once in awhile. People think you are nuts, but I was feeding a habit that I loved, and it was worth it to me. (and it took even more hours than I was willing to put in to get some of that stuff yourself....there are people who formed companys with several employees who worked full-time to get the items that people like me purchased on ebay with real money.)

I got to the 4th biggest guild on the server, and basically burned out. After 5 years, i finally gave it up. In the 3-4 years since, I tried a few similar games but mostly stayed away until this past year when I started playing World of Warcraft. That took the Everquest idea and made a ton of improvements, and far surpassed EQ in numbers of players. I've been playing it nearly a year (and again have a druid named Kolina and a warlock named Kolrama.) I again love playing, but I've not let myself get swallowed by it this time. I play an hour or two average a day, and although I'm in a guild, don't do many of the raids (which means I'll never get the best gear in the game.)

I hope that I continue playing MMORPG games until my cold dead hand can't click a mouse. They take the best of two of my favorite things to do (play games and live in a fantasy world) and meld them together in a fun, interesting way. They are definitely not for everyone. But for silly boys like me who intend never to grow up....they are perfect.

Bruiser....my true love

2008-06-27T11:04:00.010-04:00

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.....

2008-06-18T14:22:00.004-04:00

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

2008-06-18T13:03:00.002-04:00

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

2008-06-12T11:39:00.003-04:00

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

2008-06-09T14:10:00.003-04:00

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

2008-06-08T15:37:00.005-04:00

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

2008-06-06T15:15:00.003-04:00

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.....

2008-06-06T12:24:00.003-04:00

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.....

2008-06-02T15:21:00.002-04:00

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.

'Weighty' thoughts

2008-05-30T10:22:00.004-04:00

When I was a very small boy....I was a twig. I actually had to wear 'slim' size pants and seeing pictures of me in my first 7-8 years still kind of shocks me.

I suppose I was a twig mostly cause I was a very picky eater. I refused to eat any beef, and in fact really didn't like meat. Our big treat was McDonald's once a month or so and I wouldn't eat anything but french fries and milk shakes. I don't know what I did like, but it wasn't much...just ask my Mother.

Before I hit 10, I suddenly went from 'slim' jeans to 'husky' jeans with NO stop in the 'normal' department. I guess I must've discovered food at that time, and since I've now made it to 47 years without ever learning the 'joys' of exercise.....that discovery caught up with me quickly and has hung around ever since.

Of course as a child, you really don't pay attention to such things. I didn't know I was fat and didn't much care. That is until a few years later when I had an honest conversation with my sister Allyn (4 years older than me and definitely noticing appearance, weight and boys.) I can't remember why we were talking about it, but I remember the exact words that she used...words that scarred me deeply despite their humble start coming from the honesty of a young girl.

She said to me, 'Several of my friends have told me that you'd be cute if you weren't FAT!'.

Suddenly my life changed because I was labelled. I was a fat person and despite all efforts, I remain a fat person. Now 'fat person' doesn't necessarily mean that you are 200 lbs overweight, that you're lazy, that you eat all the wrong things. 'Fat person' is a philosophy and a way of thinking that stays with you. It's the inability to see yourself as anything other than overweight. I understand Anorexia and Bulimia only too well because that is exactly what they stem from. People get down to 90 lbs and still feel fat....if you've never been there, it's difficult to understand. I've not only been there, but lived with it.

Now since I've been an adult, I've been everywhere from 155lbs to 230 lbs....this from a 5'8" guy. When I was 230, I felt fat. When I was 200, I felt fat...180, fat....160, still fat. Yes even when I was the skinniest I ever had been and felt pretty good about myself, I still felt like a fat cow. I felt better because I looked better in smaller clothes, but I still felt fat and felt that anyone who saw me otherwise, just hadn't seen me with my clothes off yet. (I AM lucky in that I have the type of body that doesn't show the fat as obviously as some people....I weigh more than people usually realize.)

I've been dieting nearly non-stop since I was in high school. Unfortunately, like most fat people, it only sticks with me in temporary waves...some long-lasting, but none yet permanent. When I was 230 lbs in high school, my Mom sent me to a doctor who gave me what seemed like miracle pills. I took about 9 pills a day (he explained each one and I promptely forgot all that information) and I had zero side effects. Over the course of a summer, without any serious dieting, I lost 60 lbs.

It was a life-changing miracle! Ok, not....but it did give me a great Senior year where I actually felt pretty good.

By my Junior year in college, the weight was all back on of course....miracle cures don't work for any length of time. So that summer, my mom promised to send me back to the miracle doctor....only to find out he died in the meantime. That was devastating as I thought all you had to do to lose weight was take some pills! And no one else in the world gave out those pills...dangit. (I should've bought my lifetime supply while he was still around!) But my Mom was already on weight watchers (entire family has the weight problem) so she essentially just fed me ww for the summer, and I started to exercise, running 2 miles a day every day....and I lost those same 60 lbs again and had a great Senior year where I felt good about myself again.

That time I'd done it right....and that weight stayed off for many, many years, plus it taught me what I needed to do if I was going to lose weight again. However, neither of those weight losses made me change my thoughts on who I was...a 'fat person'

It gets harder every year to lose weight, and my expectations have changed over the years....I know that I'll never be skinny so I no longer kill myself trying...rather I want to get to a reasonable weight and stay there. I tell myself that I'm not dieting...I'm changing how I eat. (just wish I believed what I say.) Now I'm fighting the weight and the mental issue, plus age. Because of my age, I've finally realized that my biggest struggle is really accepting myself how I am and getting the philosophy of simply a 'fat person' out of my head.

Having that philosophy has hurt me in so many ways. I never learned the universal gay art of 'eye contact' because of it. I love looking at good-looking guys, and whenever I am looking at someone with thoughts of 'cute', lust or similar in my head, and they look back for any reason, I look away rather than making eye contact. This is because deep down I believe that no one finds me truly attractive, and when they see me looking, their thought is something along the lines of disgust....'why is that fat cow staring at me....like he has any chance at all'. And if anyone did show any interest in me at all....I was completely tense and mortified the minute they touched my body or tried to see me without clothes on. OMG, they'll see or feel how fat I really am!

My brain says, how stupid can you be? But my brain doesn't always control me....logical thought sometimes gets no where when fighting against ingrained beliefs. It's a miracle that I ever found George (and that he loves me despite my insecurity.)

I'm still struggling daily with the weight. I'm still struggling daily with my self-image. Despite George's reassurances, I still think that no-one ever lusts after me....and those that might, just haven't seen the real me. George feels lust and our sex life is generally great, but I still believe that any lust he feels stems from what I do to him, rather than what he sees when he looks at my naked body. So he doesn't feel lust for ME, he feels it for how I make HIM feel. (and I'm sorry if I'm not giving him enough credit...because re-reading this, makes me feel like I'm making excuses.) The really sad part is, now I also feel like it's too late to ever feel truly attractive. I'm already too old for a 20-something or even a 30-something to even glance at me twice. I have average looks and a fat body....and I'm STILL not comfortable being touched. Trust me, I'm quite comfortable doing the touching :).......but I'm quite uncomfortable when I'm touched back.

It's funny how, when you have this 'fat person' mentality, you can find reasons to dismiss nearly every compliment you get. If George or my family say anything about looking good, I dismiss it immediately as 'well they HAVE to say that.' If a friend or a stranger walked up to me and told me I was gorgeous (and no, nothing like that has ever happened)...I'd be looking for the cane, and if I didn't find one, deciding that they had no taste, caught me in a favorable light, and hadn't seen my real body.

It's also funny how you can be so self-aware of your thought patterns, and at the same time, completely helpless to change them.

Oh well, I'm a FAT PERSON....get over it Swoper!

Wheelchair Lady....

2008-05-30T10:03:00.003-04:00

Ethel was a bit of a demon in her wheelchair and loved to charge around the nursing home, taking corners on one wheel and getting up to maximum speed on the long corridors, shouting "Vroom, Vroom!" and making believe she was once again driving her car on the freeway.

Because the poor woman was one sandwich short of a picnic, the other residents tolerated her, and some of them actually joined in to help her live her fantasy.

One day, Ethel was speeding up one corridor when a door opened and Kooky Clarence stepped out with his arm outstretched. "STOP! Police!" he shouted in a firm voice. "Have you got a license for that thing?" Ethel fished around in her handbag and pulled out a Kit Kat wrapper and held it up to him. "OK," he said, and away Ethel sped down the hall.

As she took the corner near the TV lounge on one wheel, Weird Harold popped out in front of her and shouted, "STOP! Police! Have you got proof of insurance?" Ethel dug into her handbag, pulled out a drink coaster, and held it up to him. Harold nodded, and said, "Carry on, ma'am."

As Ethel neared the final corridor before the front door, Crazy Craig stepped out in front of her, stark naked, with a very sizable erection.

"Oh, good grief," cried Ethel,"not the Breathalyzer again!"

My other Opinion is.....

2008-05-02T14:00:00.001-04:00

I'm too long winded after reading the last post. You know you're going on too long when you fall asleep reading your own words. :)

My Opinion is......

2008-05-02T12:44:00.002-04:00

about as wishy-washy as they come. I don't believe strongly in most things the way other people seem to. Yet I still believe I'm more right than most others.

I don't know how many people are absolutely convinced that if we elect Barack Obama.....this country is going to fall apart. He is absolutely THE wrong candidate because 'fill in the blank'.

Similarly, many, many people are absolutely convinced that if we elect Hillary Clinton.....this country is going to fall apart. She is absolutely THE wrong candidate because.....

Same with McCain.

Who's right, who's wrong? Better question, who really knows? The people who spew out such opinions know because they are absolutely irrefutably right....period. All of them, with no exceptions. And they each believe that.

I guess my point is, far far too many people in this world see the world as black and white (no racial intent here). There is an absolute right, and an absolute wrong.....they speak the truth and everyone else either lies or is an idiot. There is no possibility of changing their opinion because they are simply RIGHT. They seek out people with the same essential opinions as themselves and declare them prophets.

I see the world in shades of gray....there IS no absolute right and no absolute wrong, just a lot of 'mostly right' or 'mostly wrong'. I believe most of what people say has at least a grain of truth to it....but I also believe most of what people say is uninformed or only partially informed. People are quick to read or listen to something and hear exactly the parts of it that agree with what they already believe....and conveniently ignore or don't hear the parts of it that disagree with what they believe. Those same people then turn around and state it as fact to anyone else that will listen....and the listeners hear the part of it they already believe and think 'right on!' while at the same time ignoring parts of it they disagree with. Selective listening is way too prevalent in this country.

I constantly am hearing people say something as though it is an undisputed fact such as 'Barack's preacher said that the government created HIV to kill blacks'. Maybe he did...maybe he didn't....but chances are that he said something to that affect. Fine...assuming he did, how exactly did he say it and what did he mean by it? I wasn't there to hear it or hear it's context. Obviously at face value it's a completely ridiculous statement. Barack haters are positive that he said it exactly like that, 50 times a year over the 20 years Barack listened to him (which of course to them means that Barack believes it too or he wouldn't have sat there listening to his preacher spout constant hatred.) Barack lovers say things like 'well no one believes every word out of their preacher's mouth and it doesn't mean Barack believes it'.

My point is...and I'm talking in general and not about that specific example....what percentage of the people do the research to REALLY understand the truth and the context behind it? What percentage make sure they hear something first hand before believing it? (the percentage is no doubt tiny...)

I wasn't there, didn't hear it said. I'm not an Obama supporter, nor am I against him. I support Hillary up until she drops out, then I'll probably support him. I don't look for every little thing as proof of my own already made up mind being correct. In fact, I listen to things like the example above and I refuse to let it affect my opinon.....unless I do the research myself to come as close to the truth as possible.

I guess all I'm trying to say is....I rarely have an opinion. When I get into a political discussion, it's usually not to support my opinion, but to give the truths that I hear in the other side of the argument, whether or not it fundamentally agrees with me. When I hear a Hillary lover saying how they will vote for McCain if she loses to Barack because 'he has no experience', I usually try to argue that no one has presidential experience, and that the president doesn't rule in a black box and you are electing someone who will choose the right people around them to lead the country....and THOSE people need to be experienced. When I hear a Barack lover saying how he's the only candidate because 'he isn't part of the establishment and is the only one with any new ideas'....I usually try to argue that he also has no real experience, and that you cannot run the country without people around you who know how to work within the establishment, and that his ideas are not that far from Hillary's anyhow.

In other words, I'm not for or against Barack Obama as much as I'm for or against people spouting their opinions like they are irrefutable facts and the other side are idiots.

So...what is my opinon? Simple....my opinion is, everyone else is WRONG! Which must mean that everyone but me is an idiot!

And since it's now in writing....it must be a fact!

Scott's Last Concert

2008-04-27T09:53:00.003-04:00

DCDD is a group I've been in for about 25 years now. I can't remember the exact date I started with the group, but it was my first attempt to learn how to be a gay man after college.

In college I had a group of friends who were mostly pretty accepting, but I had no gay friends that I knew about. so when I graduated and moved to DC, naturally one of the things I wanted most in my new life was to meet gay people and figure out what it meant to be gay. I had even had sex yet, except for the beginning of a drunken encounter with a professor that turned to a temporary disaster with me running out of his place....another time, another story.

My wonderful sister Genilee lived here in DC and I'd spent a summer between Sophmore and Junior years of college getting to know her (she's 7 years older than me.) She also wanted to help me meet more gay people and become comfortable with it....to the point where she and I went to Dupont Circle, found someone who looked obviously gay and followed them till they went into a bar, so we could find a gay bar. She went right in with me.....to Mr P's. In any case, she also encouraged me to join the band, so I did....I believe still in 1983.

I was fresh out of college as a euphonium major....so my playing was currently at it's highest level, probably ever. I joined a group of what I can only loosely describe at the time as musicians....the band sucked, frankly. And it sucked for years afterward as a musical organization...playing third grade music, badly and out of tune. We had conductors who didn't seem to really care to improve the group musically, treating the whole thing like a social organization. Because I was uncomfortable being around gay people, I would arrive at rehearsal just before it started, and RUN out the door as soon as it ended. I didn't stick around because I felt like I was intruding on a close-knit group. People who were in it in 1983 through probably 1990 wouldn't even remember me. I was like a ghost or a fly on the wall, and honestly felt like I never belonged. Gradually, I came out of my shell....but I didn't mean to go on about me.

So musically, the group stank and I was playing at such a high level that I was musically almost totally bored. And I was completely embarrassed to be heard so I never even thought about inviting anyone to a concert. I got no musical satisfaction out of playing stuff way below me....so after several years I decided to switch to an instrument that would at least challenge me a little. Gradually the level of the band both organizationally and musically crept up somewhat, once Glenn Cadoret became president. that was probably in the early 1990s. We had a series of good presidents, then good boards, and a few conductors that started to challenge us a little bit. We had no audience and a tiny band, but at least we produced some reasonable semblance to music. I was still pretty embarrassed by the group, and switched again at some point to French Horn....essentially just offering to play my instruments based on what the band was short on.

In 1998, we got a new Artistic Director....Scott Barker.

Right from the start could tell this guy was different in several ways from anyone else ever in that position. He saw possibilities that no one ever seemed to see before. He saw that although small, we had a core of good musicians. He saw that we were not stretching ourselves musically. He saw that we had no steady audience, and that our concerts were sort of like attending a wake. Go sit in a pew and don't interact and come out depressed. Honestly, there was absolutely no connection between the band and it's audience. We didnt' speak, didn't DO anything with the songs, didn't attempt to educate, or anything similar. We simply played like we did every week in rehearsal, only it happened to be in front of a disinterested, slightly embarrassed audience.

At times I thought Scott was crazy for trying some of the things he tried over the years, but I was wrong virtually every single time. Scott immediately had a profound impact on DCDD, and thankfully for us, he gave us 10 extremely high quality years of his energy and his vision. He connected like no one ever had before him. He dragged the group forward, sometimes kicking an screaming at him, to places none of us even dreamed of when he started.

I had honestly given up on ever getting much musical satisfaction out of DCDD. It had finally become a social group for me once I relaxed, one that happened to get together and throw instruments up in front of their faces for a couple of hours a week. I was still not asking anyone to concerts, was not proud of the group's performances. I guess I got some satisfaction out of my own musical growth as I became a decent trumpet player and French hornist.....and because we had so few others, I got lots and lots of solos and exposed parts. But the group was still rather embarrassing. I remember one year taking a take of our Christmas Concert with me to my parents in Texas. My sister Allyn also had joined a community band recently and brought a tape of her Christmas conert as well. When we played my tape, my sister started to laugh because it was SOOOOO bad. The tuning was just horrid.

I fully credit Scott Barker for completely changing DCDD. Sure he didn't do it alone, but he was the reason it happened. DCDD is, right now, not only not embarrassing, but a group that I am extremely proud to be in. Because Scott started to challenge us, and started to make our concerts into shows rather than wakes, starte to educate us and our audiences, started us playing music that truly challenged us, new musicians started to join and the level of quality started to rise. 10 years later, this is a group that can hold it's head high. We've played at the Kennedy Center, taken trips, and played before big audiences, gotten good reviews in the paper, etc. We've developed good relationships with other gay and lesbian groups like the men's chorus, that simply were not possible until we raised our game. We are a group that the gay and lesbian community is now proud of.....truly we used to be an embarrassment.

I have enormous respect for Scott. I'm very sad to see him go and I'm a little bit scared for the group. I want this to keep moving forward, but I know that it could fall apart again and more easily than people realize. I have faith that the organization is now pretty well run, and our new conductor has great possibilities. But we no longer have that linchpin that got us started.

I heard some rumblings that people had problems with Scott. He could be stubborn with his vision. People have their own opinions and people who were not here before truly don't understand what Scott brought to the table.

I didn't always agree with Scott or his vision....but not having my own clearcut vision and not really being much of a doer myself, I never grumbled about or to him (much) and tried to simply go along for the ride. I often got pretty disgusted with people, especially those idiots who thought we'd be better off without Scott. You people simply don't know what it was like before, and you don't realize that all it will take is a bad conductor who rubs people the wrong way and this group will lose all those good musicans quickly.

In any case I just want to say from the bottom of my heart, thank you Scott. I wish the best for you and Dave and Eli. I'll miss you, both as conductor of the group and as a person. I respect you enormously and always will. I said in the program that I truly understood what you brought to DCDD, and I do.

Sports

2008-04-22T19:53:00.006-04:00

Ok...I'm a rare bird. I admit it. I'm a gay may who loves sports. While that's not probably that unusual considering all the gay jocks in the world, I'm rare because I never really played sports as a kid.

Oh I tried....played kid's minor league baseball when I was a peewee and I distinctly remember not being very co-ordinated or good. But I also remember that I didn't really care and it didn't matter. I was left field.....put him where no ball will ever go. And I couldn't hit. Another year I somehow became a catcher and had to wear an official cup. I was catcher for two kids who ended up being the star pitchers of the high school team. And me, scared of the ball and all...go figure.

After a couple of years you became too old for minors and went to major league....still kids. Suddenly everything changed...it mattered that I sucked. I was mocked and teased and basically tortured. My mother had this thing...."you start something, you stick with it till it's finished". So she refused to let me quit even though I knew on the 2nd day I wanted to.

In 7th grade, my skinny (and it turns out gay) best friend begged me to join basketball with him. Then he promptly quit after one rehearsal (oops, guess it's a practice...can you tell I'm a musician?)....leaving me stuck with my mother's rule. I lasted about a week, then quit without telling my mother for another month. She thought I went to practice every night after school....hehe.

Joined track in 8th grade. I actually just went to the coach and said "I do not want to be on the team, but i need to lose weight and would like to practice with them....is that ok?" He was totally cool with that, and I ended up going to every single meet and doing the shotput, discus and 400-yard plod. I sucked, but again, no one cared as they didn't expect me to score any points. I was the only person who practically got lapped in a 400-yard dash. Oh, when I finished with track....I was as fat as ever.

Did no other sports other than neighborhood stuff.

Oh wait, joined the golf team in high school...having never held a club. If you joined the team you got to play at the local par3 golf course (9 holes) for free. So I joined....I was 8th out of 10 on the team, not bad considering.

There's my life-long career with sports. Somehow I love them anyway....once I got out on my own I started reading the sports page...love the numbers, love the competition. My first real job at Schwartz Brothers was in Landham, with a whole lotta straight people. I won the football pool 8 times one season and the whole office was pissed...lol.

I bring this up because tonight is the 7th game of the hockey playoffs between the caps and the flyers. I'm a huge Caps fan and Ovechkin, Semin and Backstrom fan (hope I spelled those right.) It's on right now and Tivo is getting it for me....can't wait.

Oh yeah......there's one other reason I love sports....

yep, a gay man who loves to watch sports, and read about them....so sue me.

Man's Best Friend

2008-04-21T17:15:00.001-04:00

A dog is truly a man's best friend. If you don't believe it, just try this experiment. Put your dog and your wife in the trunk of the car for an hour. When you open the trunk, who is REALLY happy to see you?

Spike's Boys....my first blog

2008-04-21T10:04:00.001-04:00

Ok, I've been doing Spike's Boys for more than a year now, and often wondered if I should also write more.....I've injected a comment or two, but largely have not offered any opinions and have attempted not to clutter it up with text. That blog was started for two reasons.

First, my wonderful dog, Spike, had just recently been diagnosed with bladder cancer.....I was sitting around one day feeling wistful about Spike and looking for something to do on the computer.

Here's Spike

Second, I'd heard about this 'blog' phenonmenon, but really hadn't paid it that much attention, so I decided to poke around to see what was out there. Largely, what I found sort of bored me....musings from a lot of people that I didn't know or care about. I found several that were basically diaries, and a few that were people going through a trauma of their own, and writing about it for their own purposes....and to help anyone else who might happen upon it. I also found others that were about specific subjects, such as a particular TV show, sports, Brad Pitt, etc.

So on the spot, I decided a few things. I would start up a blog to learn how to do it and see if it's something that amused me enough to keep it up, would pick a subject that is easy to keep going, and I would dedicate it to Spike.

So....what interests me....what do I do mostly when I'm poking around on the net. Look for cute guys. I had a fairly sizable folder of pictures and porn I'd found on the net one way or another. Mostly I used it as a screensaver for my computer screens. So for my blog subject, I picked essentially, pictures of men. I hesitate to call it porn because if you spend any time on Spike's Boys, you'll see that there is not a ton of nudity or gratuitous sex. Oh, it's definitely there, but it is not my focus. My focus for that blog is simply men that I find extremely attractive in one way or another. It can be an Arm muscle, a face, something they are wearing, or just a gorgeous man. Each posting is themed to whatever amuses me that day, and I picked the overall theme of 'boys' to tie it together.

The theme of 'boys' has limited me a bit because I put that into the title of each posting, and coming up with new clever ones isn't easy. But I do my best to keep it interesting for myself, and now for others since some people seem to enjoy visiting (have had about 150k hits at this point.)

More limiting than the theme though was organization over time. I've now done about 125 postings in the last year and two months, and each posting is 15 pictures (blogspot lets you upload 5 at a time, and that seemed like a good number.) That's approaching 2000 pictures and I've done my best not to repeat. That became harder and harder over time, so now I'm in the process of moving my pics on my computer into 'used' subdirectories. I do a ton of surfing for new pics all the time, and I keep them somewhat organized by categorizing them as I find them into a subdirectory structure similar to the blog. That organization started when I started the blog (I already had several hundred pictures before starting it, all unorganized.)

Geez, I'm already boring MYSELF....

Ok, so who is Spike? To know Spike and his brothers, you have to hear a bit of history of me. I'm a 47 year-old gay man who has never truly been comfortable with himself. I'm sure I'll tell more of this another time, but essentially, when I was 29, I met two guys that had been a couple for 10 years, Jim and George. Eventually we started a threesome which lasted another 7 years before George and I split off on our own.

Jim and I started as friends and he did a lot for me as a person, but we had a terrible time because he brought out the arguer in me for some reason. By nature, I'm not argumentative at all, but for some reason, he and I fought like cats and dogs (and I almost never won an argument because he's GOOD at it.) For our first three years, I essentially moved into their place, and in 1994, we decided to buy a place together, all three of us. I grew up with dogs and was absolutely insistant that I WOULD have one when I owned a place. Jim was dead set against having a dog in the house. We knew it was an issue....but we proceeded anyway.

Fast forward to about a month before closing on the house we found on Capital Hill. We had an ornery owner to deal with....all of us were in the house together and the owner was being an Ass about something....and the next thing I know, Jim is gone from the house, out the front door. About 30 minutes later, he comes running into the house saying 'oh you have to come see the puppies!!!' He had noticed the new next door neighbor in the yard and went out to talk to him. The neighbor's Jack Russell had recently had puppies, so he invited Jim in to see them, and Jim fell in love. Next thing I know, Jim is insisting that we EACH had to have a puppy....lol. 'Oh, three is no harder than one!', he tells us. (He can rationalize absolutely anything in his head.) Well, I had just averted a very difficult argument, so I went along because I was going to have my dog.

Spike Bruiser and Skippy

Well, as these things happen, I got three dogs as I have always been their primary caretaker and disciplinarian.

So of course, we had to decide on names for our three new puppies (we were only assured of two of the 5 as they were keeping one (Scamp), one was definitely spoken for (Nardo....the long lost brother as we never saw him again) and a third was possibly taken....but we ended up with three of them living next door to their mother (Lady) and brother. We wanted a theme for the names....Hewey, Dewey and Louis or something silly, without being silly...lol. Finally we decided that since Jack Russell Terriers are little dogs who don't have a clue that they are little, we'd use big names, and decided on Butch, Spike and Killer.

Well, the first one born was the biggest and the first one to push his brothers aside (yes, she had 5 boys) to get to the milk.....he was a baby bully and the owners named him first, and called him Bruiser. Well, that fit the theme just great, so it became Bruiser, Spike and Killer.

Jim being Jim, decided that each of us owned only one of them, and somehow it became Jim owns Bruiser, I own Spike, and Killer belonged to George. George is the world's sweetest person (I'm sure I'll have more on him later), and just couldn't call that dog, who was the runt of the litter, Killer. After 2-3 weeks of waffling, I finally said, 'ok the dog needs a name, if you can't call him Killer than NAME HIM SOMETHING.'....and George says, ok, lets name him Skippy.

Well, thank you very much for ruining our THEME! But he was right, Skippy turned out to be more of a Skippy and he grew into the name. Killer would've been all wrong, and it makes for a good story :).

These dogs are truly special to us and I'm sure I'll write more about them at another time. As a gay man with no children, my animals become my children. I also have two cats, Rachi (pronounced Rocky and short for Rachmaninov) and Copeland.

No Clue what to write or who will care

2008-04-21T09:40:00.002-04:00

With so many blogs in the world already....who needs another one? Who will visit, who will read it, and will anyone care? I'm realistic enough to know that I'm not the world's best writer, and certainly am not the world's most interesting person (although I like to think I'm in the top 5 billion.) I'm not terribly clever or funny (but I try), am not good-looking or overly talented

I've come to realize over time that blogs do not have to be for anyone other than the author, and that's essentially what I intend here. This blog will be my chance to say things out loud that I'm thinking. I intend to keep it wide open and honest. I don't intend to attempt to make it widely known precisely because I want a place to say anything I want to say without worrying what anyone thinks. It will serve partially as my diary....and I hope over time that I will improve on all counts (interesting, clever, funny, good writer, etc.)

If I'm lucky, one day it will be interesting enough that you may want to return.