Sunday, September 30, 2007
P.S.
Postings will be spotty until I get something figured out for internet access. I just really wanted to get on line a minute tonight, so I'm at a wi-fi hot spot. lol.
"Do you want to close the door the last time?"
Jason said, and I nodded my head no. So Jason pulled it to, and said, "It's the end of an era." We left behind the courtyard, the building, and everything that went with the place I've had since 1999.
Everyone agrees the new apartment has more space and is laid out better, but just isn't in quite as cute and trendy a neighborhood. Not that there is anything wrong with it, it's just more of a neighborhood of apartments than a cute walking neighborhood with a dozen different bars and ethnic restaurants. Of course, being only 1.6 miles away, it's not like I can't go to those cute restaurants anytime I want to go.
Yesterday, I had quite a crew pulling me out. Spearheaded by My Fella and G, with a lot of support. It took two trips, but we made it. Then I took everyone out to my favorite pizza joint for lunch. I figured that was nicer than ordering it take out. Everyone gets what they want, and gets it hot and fresh.
My Fella spent the better part of the afternoon pushing and tugging until he got my bedroom completely together, and the other bedroom mostly together. Somewhere around five, we decided to break for showers and ride down the interstate to a rodeo. Great decision. While we were all exhausted, it was very good to get out and leave it. And at least we knew we would come home to good bedrooms.
This afternoon, G came back, and she just is a force of nature. Steady, sure, solid, dependable. She kept pushing, pulling, dragging, opening, until one piece by one piece, the apartment as a whole came together. I tried to tackle all the many, many boxes. To be a boy who doesn't cook, I had a ton of boxes labeled "kitchen." geeze!
By the time Ginger and I walked down the street for me to buy her supper, the apartment was complete. Finished. Done.
All that's left to do is decide what, if anything, I want to hang on the wall. And hang it. It's been exhausting. But it's all done. I think the hardwood floors probably need a good mopping, but that's really it. Clothes are unpacked, food and dishes, unpacked, furniture in all the correct places, etc. It is great to be so completely done and finished with it all.
* I'm having trouble getting the picture to come across, but I do have one for this post.
Everyone agrees the new apartment has more space and is laid out better, but just isn't in quite as cute and trendy a neighborhood. Not that there is anything wrong with it, it's just more of a neighborhood of apartments than a cute walking neighborhood with a dozen different bars and ethnic restaurants. Of course, being only 1.6 miles away, it's not like I can't go to those cute restaurants anytime I want to go.
Yesterday, I had quite a crew pulling me out. Spearheaded by My Fella and G, with a lot of support. It took two trips, but we made it. Then I took everyone out to my favorite pizza joint for lunch. I figured that was nicer than ordering it take out. Everyone gets what they want, and gets it hot and fresh.
My Fella spent the better part of the afternoon pushing and tugging until he got my bedroom completely together, and the other bedroom mostly together. Somewhere around five, we decided to break for showers and ride down the interstate to a rodeo. Great decision. While we were all exhausted, it was very good to get out and leave it. And at least we knew we would come home to good bedrooms.
This afternoon, G came back, and she just is a force of nature. Steady, sure, solid, dependable. She kept pushing, pulling, dragging, opening, until one piece by one piece, the apartment as a whole came together. I tried to tackle all the many, many boxes. To be a boy who doesn't cook, I had a ton of boxes labeled "kitchen." geeze!
By the time Ginger and I walked down the street for me to buy her supper, the apartment was complete. Finished. Done.
All that's left to do is decide what, if anything, I want to hang on the wall. And hang it. It's been exhausting. But it's all done. I think the hardwood floors probably need a good mopping, but that's really it. Clothes are unpacked, food and dishes, unpacked, furniture in all the correct places, etc. It is great to be so completely done and finished with it all.
* I'm having trouble getting the picture to come across, but I do have one for this post.
Friday, September 28, 2007
P.S.
Like a typical me, or some television stereotype of a gay man, while I've been internally obsessing over the move, the deposit, the right apartment, blah blah blah, I've also been planning the photo for my "I've moved" photo cards. lol.
P.S.
Like a typical me, or some television stereotype of a gay man, while I've been internally obsessing over the move, the deposit, the right apartment, blah blah blah, I've also been planning the photo for my "I've moved" photo cards. lol.
Today
I walk over and sign the lease and get the key, and in the morning I move. This change thing shouldn't be so hard, but it's just had me all balled up. Maybe I should schedule a move every few years, to keep from getting so rooted in a place as this.
Everything is boxed (almost everything) and what isn't, I can do tonight when My Fella gets here. but so very much of it is in boxes. I have several friends and a cousin lined up to come over in the morning and help.
Nothing left to do, but to do it.
Everything is boxed (almost everything) and what isn't, I can do tonight when My Fella gets here. but so very much of it is in boxes. I have several friends and a cousin lined up to come over in the morning and help.
Nothing left to do, but to do it.
Wednesday, September 26, 2007
Comcast, a division of hell.
After months of begging them for service calls that would correct my intermittent internet activity. Every service call and service technician was nice enough and did their best, and each one left with me thinking it was finally resolved. Months now, I tell you.
Today I logged onto their website to set up a transfer of service to the new place. The system automatically throws you into a chat window. Not that I'm sure there's a real person chatting, the answers were written in a way that seemed very automated.
Anyway, the first chat window told me their system was down and closed off real fast. The second chat window told me they could not find my apartment and I was to go in person to an office - it's easily a 40 year old building, close to 20 units. I'd be hard pressed to believe no one there has cable. I typed the simple sentence "There are 20 units there, some with existing cable." That's when the automation/attendant typed it again and logged off.
I am just so tired of begging them for service. So I've decided that when I "go in person to their office" as they suggested, I am taking their modem and cable box with me. I am just not going to beg them for their service.
I am going to look into a wireless card for the laptop, I've called and begged Skeeter to record my fave shows, and I'll sign up for Netflix.
So I think I will definitely take the advice of their automated chat room guy, and just go in person to my local Comcast office.
Today I logged onto their website to set up a transfer of service to the new place. The system automatically throws you into a chat window. Not that I'm sure there's a real person chatting, the answers were written in a way that seemed very automated.
Anyway, the first chat window told me their system was down and closed off real fast. The second chat window told me they could not find my apartment and I was to go in person to an office - it's easily a 40 year old building, close to 20 units. I'd be hard pressed to believe no one there has cable. I typed the simple sentence "There are 20 units there, some with existing cable." That's when the automation/attendant typed it again and logged off.
I am just so tired of begging them for service. So I've decided that when I "go in person to their office" as they suggested, I am taking their modem and cable box with me. I am just not going to beg them for their service.
I am going to look into a wireless card for the laptop, I've called and begged Skeeter to record my fave shows, and I'll sign up for Netflix.
So I think I will definitely take the advice of their automated chat room guy, and just go in person to my local Comcast office.
Monday, September 24, 2007
Monday
Piper at Bliss In Bloom noticed some names and did a bunny trail. Yes, Spyder & Sass are the same ones.
Walt, thank you for the birthday wishes.
My Fella comes Friday night to help with the move. Looking forward to just getting it all over.
Quote from a friend in an email today, lamenting some of the confusion of her life - "I should have just married you and joined the Air Force." That was a hoot to me.
"You know if there's a lady within 100 miles, I'll find her. Journalists love mercenaries. I'm geting more ass than a public toilet seat." A cousin working for Blackwater in Iraq.
Walt, thank you for the birthday wishes.
My Fella comes Friday night to help with the move. Looking forward to just getting it all over.
Quote from a friend in an email today, lamenting some of the confusion of her life - "I should have just married you and joined the Air Force." That was a hoot to me.
"You know if there's a lady within 100 miles, I'll find her. Journalists love mercenaries. I'm geting more ass than a public toilet seat." A cousin working for Blackwater in Iraq.
Saturday, September 22, 2007
'bout supper time.
In some years past, that's about the time my mom would call. Today it came with me at the airport, circling around to pick up my friend G. It was a low key day, whirlwind packing for the move next weekend. So with G in my car, we headed directly to our favorite spot to celebrate my birthday and just relax and unwind.
The digital camera wouldn't come on, maybe the battery is dead. So the photo of us is with an old style camera. I'll have to get the photo developed before I can post it. We shared steak fajitas for two ("cook the onions down and don't drain the grease") and it was yummy. My friend, oh, I've mentioned her but can't remember by what name, but anyway, my friend joined us. She drank her supper. It was a good night and a good ending to the day. I've had several text messages, a few phone calls, and in there waiting are two mail packages and two birthday cards. I suppose as old as I am, that's not bad for a birthday.
The digital camera wouldn't come on, maybe the battery is dead. So the photo of us is with an old style camera. I'll have to get the photo developed before I can post it. We shared steak fajitas for two ("cook the onions down and don't drain the grease") and it was yummy. My friend, oh, I've mentioned her but can't remember by what name, but anyway, my friend joined us. She drank her supper. It was a good night and a good ending to the day. I've had several text messages, a few phone calls, and in there waiting are two mail packages and two birthday cards. I suppose as old as I am, that's not bad for a birthday.
Friday, September 21, 2007
Favorite Family Quotes
"Yes, but it bores me." Sass, in response to the question, "Don't you think you should pick up your stuff in your mom's car?
"I don't think I should take dieting advice from someone who looks like you." Spyder, after complaining that he's fat, and my comment that three tall Cokes before his supper arrived wouldn't help.
"He can help pack the truck, but they might see you. Better wait til the morning."
Followed up with
"We can leave about six o'clock." Sissy's father, still a little disoriented after coming off the respirator earlier this week.
"I don't think I should take dieting advice from someone who looks like you." Spyder, after complaining that he's fat, and my comment that three tall Cokes before his supper arrived wouldn't help.
"He can help pack the truck, but they might see you. Better wait til the morning."
Followed up with
"We can leave about six o'clock." Sissy's father, still a little disoriented after coming off the respirator earlier this week.
It's Comcastic!
Also known as the worst effing service ever, with the absolute worst customer service to follow it up. That damned company is probably an off shoot of Hell itself.
It's all tied together, isn't it
or better titled "Her name is Bev" sung either to the tune of "Her name was Lola" or "Her name is Rio."
You see, I moved here in 1999, straight from my hometown in tinysville, Arkansas. My friend Jennifer, her family had built and still owned the building generations later, and she said, after confirming my gayness, "You need to move. You need to move into my building. I have an opening."
Not long after, I met Bev. I remember it because I thought I didn't need Bev. "We've hired somebody" he said. A radio d.j. who will emcee the promotion. Well duh, I've been doing just fine for years and besides, I didn't even listen to her radio station. Later that night I was with her and her guest having supper in our steakhouse, laying the first tentative tiles of foundation on our friendship. I told her about this supposed apartment, and she said, "Come have dinner with me and some friends Monday night. I know where it is, I'll take you." Well, I get there late and supper is over. I remember feeling awkward, a small town boy in this big city at this restaurant, and more awkward that I was so late. But what I remember most is her & Sheila, we got in a big ol' truck and drove over to the apartment. Then we went rug shopping. Even now when I pass the Kellogg's plant, with their bright red neon lights, I remember the night we drove past it, going to a Target to look for a rug.
The next week I came back, or at least some week soon after. I moved to Millie's Place, with it's off street parking and it's little courtyard, and the first of the restaurants to be within walking distance. And every Monday night for a long, long time, I had dinner with Bev, who introduced me to several people who are my friends today. Bev has moved on the far outskirts of town, and I don't see her much. My Fella asks about her often, he's quite smitten with her.
Bev called me today, we spoke briefly, as I was just about to have dinner with some people at work. Later tonight, I was talking with Foo Foo neighbor about the beginning, the beginning of my time here. I reminisced about how I moved in and started meeting Bev for dinner every Monday night, and how she introduced me several people who are my friends, one of whom is one of my very closest. I reminisced about how I moved into this place with it's little courtyard, and the first of the restaurants within walking distance. I reminisced about the men I have loved and made love to here, and how I have had such strong heartache here as well. I reminisced about the super bowl parties, the neighborhood festival parties, the christmas tree decorating parties. I have had guests in my home and roommates here, and one wild boy. . . . . who warrants a post all his own, but I fear too many people may see it. But this post isn't about him, it's about her, my radio d.j. love, and how it all started with her saying, "Come to dinner. I'll take you and show you the apartment."
You see, I moved here in 1999, straight from my hometown in tinysville, Arkansas. My friend Jennifer, her family had built and still owned the building generations later, and she said, after confirming my gayness, "You need to move. You need to move into my building. I have an opening."
Not long after, I met Bev. I remember it because I thought I didn't need Bev. "We've hired somebody" he said. A radio d.j. who will emcee the promotion. Well duh, I've been doing just fine for years and besides, I didn't even listen to her radio station. Later that night I was with her and her guest having supper in our steakhouse, laying the first tentative tiles of foundation on our friendship. I told her about this supposed apartment, and she said, "Come have dinner with me and some friends Monday night. I know where it is, I'll take you." Well, I get there late and supper is over. I remember feeling awkward, a small town boy in this big city at this restaurant, and more awkward that I was so late. But what I remember most is her & Sheila, we got in a big ol' truck and drove over to the apartment. Then we went rug shopping. Even now when I pass the Kellogg's plant, with their bright red neon lights, I remember the night we drove past it, going to a Target to look for a rug.
The next week I came back, or at least some week soon after. I moved to Millie's Place, with it's off street parking and it's little courtyard, and the first of the restaurants to be within walking distance. And every Monday night for a long, long time, I had dinner with Bev, who introduced me to several people who are my friends today. Bev has moved on the far outskirts of town, and I don't see her much. My Fella asks about her often, he's quite smitten with her.
Bev called me today, we spoke briefly, as I was just about to have dinner with some people at work. Later tonight, I was talking with Foo Foo neighbor about the beginning, the beginning of my time here. I reminisced about how I moved in and started meeting Bev for dinner every Monday night, and how she introduced me several people who are my friends, one of whom is one of my very closest. I reminisced about how I moved into this place with it's little courtyard, and the first of the restaurants within walking distance. I reminisced about the men I have loved and made love to here, and how I have had such strong heartache here as well. I reminisced about the super bowl parties, the neighborhood festival parties, the christmas tree decorating parties. I have had guests in my home and roommates here, and one wild boy. . . . . who warrants a post all his own, but I fear too many people may see it. But this post isn't about him, it's about her, my radio d.j. love, and how it all started with her saying, "Come to dinner. I'll take you and show you the apartment."
Tuesday, September 18, 2007
10a.m. and straight boys
My landlord thought he would pull off an update to my kitchen floor while I was out of town, so when I came back early for a family emergency, all of my kitchen is in my living room. Incredibly annoying late at night. I really thought once I told him I was leaving, he would hold off til I got moved out. So it's ten a.m. and this straight boy is in there pounding away at the old floor.
Sunday, September 16, 2007
2a.m.
Seems to be about the magical time for waking up. This dream was an odd one, but thankfully short, even though there were a few strong emotions attached to it.
And about that other issue, crisis abated. I was just so tired when I got here, I'm sure I let it get to me a little more than it should have. Really, I've dated My Fella for coming up on 2 years now, and no problems at all. I knew eventually that road travel, conventions, etc. would set up a situation, and I knew that eventually I would run into this guy, who is a genuine nice guy. But it's not a problem at all.
This convention is thankfully short. I would be pleased as punch to get some other company requested visits out of the way during it and be on my happy way Tuesday. I've got a ton of stuff to do on my day off Wednesday, I just hope looking for an apartment isn't one of them.
Piper, I'll give you details on the dream after breakfast.
And about that other issue, crisis abated. I was just so tired when I got here, I'm sure I let it get to me a little more than it should have. Really, I've dated My Fella for coming up on 2 years now, and no problems at all. I knew eventually that road travel, conventions, etc. would set up a situation, and I knew that eventually I would run into this guy, who is a genuine nice guy. But it's not a problem at all.
This convention is thankfully short. I would be pleased as punch to get some other company requested visits out of the way during it and be on my happy way Tuesday. I've got a ton of stuff to do on my day off Wednesday, I just hope looking for an apartment isn't one of them.
Piper, I'll give you details on the dream after breakfast.
Ten Thousand Angels
I've always liked the Mindy McCreedy country song of the posting's title. Tonight, it tells me why. I am at a Red Stick convention in my industry, and here's a fellow I've had convention sex with . . . twice. The first time was nice, the second time I saw him at a convention we talked but nothing happened, the third time I saw him, we had sex again and it rocked. And here he is tonight. But that's that's the nice thing about the kind of boys we are. . . you can sometimes be all that and sometimes be friends. No issues. I am faithful as an oak tree. Or some cliche'.
"Speaking of the devil, look who just walked in, he knows just where to find me, here we go again. He's gonna ask me to dance, but that's not as far as he wants to go. I need ten thousand angels . . . to help me tell him no. Lead me not into temptation, heaven help me to be strong. I can fight all that I'm feeling but I can't do it alone. Help me break this spell that I'm under, guide my feet and hold me tight. I need ten thousand angels watching over me tonight."
"Speaking of the devil, look who just walked in, he knows just where to find me, here we go again. He's gonna ask me to dance, but that's not as far as he wants to go. I need ten thousand angels . . . to help me tell him no. Lead me not into temptation, heaven help me to be strong. I can fight all that I'm feeling but I can't do it alone. Help me break this spell that I'm under, guide my feet and hold me tight. I need ten thousand angels watching over me tonight."
Saturday, September 15, 2007
Cokes and Stuff.
I've had three red label Cokes today, and counting. It was just a "Coke" kind of day. There is a neighborhood festival outside my front door, from sun up to sun down, and instead of blowing my money on Pronto Pups and what-not, I decided to accept a few Cokes from the landlord's sponsored party. And I figured if I was gonna blow it, skip the silver can and go right to red. I can go back off it tomorrow.
I haven't told the landlord yet, but I will today because I put in an application on an apartment. So I'll go ahead and tell him that I won't be signing the lease and will get out as soon as I can.
Tomorrow is My Fella's birthday, so tonight we are going to a locally owned steakhouse with two friends of ours to celebrate. It is supposed to be, to quote a friend of mine, "phenomenal." So I hope that it is as good as the prices on the menu.
Quotes
seen at the neighborhood festival today:
They call him W so he can spell it.
Oh no, you're going to try and cheer me up aren't you?
I might have been born yesterday but I stayed up late last night. (I meant to remember who this one was, it was attributed to a Blues singer)
They call him W so he can spell it.
Oh no, you're going to try and cheer me up aren't you?
I might have been born yesterday but I stayed up late last night. (I meant to remember who this one was, it was attributed to a Blues singer)
Drive It Like You Stole It
So, my friend SO called me the other day. She has moved to San Fran, you know, with her boyfriend we can call "Cute Bubble Butt" white boy. She had left San Fran for a few days for a work convention/meeting on credit card fraud, when her boyfriend, "Butt" calls her and says, "My car is stolen. Oh sad me, and can I borry your car." * SO says, "Oh baby, I'm so sorry. But I'm not there, I can't help you, and yes you can borry my car."
So when SO gets home, he picks her up at the airport in her car and all is ..... well, not allright with the world, but at least she's home and her man is safe. Could be worse. She gets home, logs on and checks the bank and BAM! She's missing money out of her bank. The bastards had credit card scammed her. CREDIT CARD SCAMMED HER! And there she was at a convention about credit card fraud.
So this like a month ago right? So her Cute Bubble Butt boyfriend calls her yesterday and says, "The cops found my car, WITH the guy in it." So she jumps in her car and heads out to see with him. OK, so here's the deal, "he" is some well known drug dealer. SO thinks they must have gotten a tip because there's like a bajillion Acura's in San Fran, how in the world do you find ONE? So the Boys in Blue found him (SO reports the cops was HOT!) and they ask Butt to look at the drug dealer and say if he knows him. No. SO reports the car was FILLED UP with drugs and junk and guns and smelled of Black and Mild's and just the whole mix of drug dealing, gun running smells, it had a bullet ricochet dent and the seats are ripped and torn, PLUS it don't drive right.
So, Cute Bubble Butt had a sticker on the window that was a local favorite team of his, and the drug dealer had replaced it with a sticker that said, "DRIVE IT LIKE YOU STOLE IT." Cute Bubble Butt took it off and said to SO, "What do I do with this?" She called me and was like, "I am sending this to you!" I can't wait to get it. Drive it like you stole it!
Wednesday, September 12, 2007
General Post
I've found three potential duplex type things in my area that I am looking at tomorrow & Friday morning. All 3 are in my price range, and in the part of town in which I live. One is on the same street, at the other end, one is around the corner within walking distance, and one is a few streets over. Fingers crossed and hopeful.
By the time Friday gets here, I sure will need it. This is just kind of emotionally draining.
By the time Friday gets here, I sure will need it. This is just kind of emotionally draining.
Tuesday, September 11, 2007
Just a catch up post.
Sleep came much better last night. I'm wondering if the chai tea I thought was so soothing might have been a little bit caffeinated. Or perhaps I just couldn't get my mind to slow down, since I was all balled up over the whole apartment thing.
I went and looked at one today, and drove past two others about which I had called, and will probably set up appts tomorow to see them. There is one around the corner from me, to which I have placed a call and am hopeful for a return tomorrow, that, if I like it, would be just schnazzy for a move-in. It's not two blocks away. Almost a shame to rent the U-Haul.
I haven't told the landlord yet. He's sort of (emphasis on sort of, not actually) a pal, and I hate to leave. Since 1999. Maybe it's just time to go. Anyway, his part time maintenance guy is upstairs tonight redoing a floor, and he works full time for one of the management companies I called today. Once I do a sight inspection, and know if I am really interested, I'll ask him about them. But at that point, I have to tell the landlord, 'cause he'll know then anyway. As for tonight, I just flirted with him. He's quite the cutie. More so when he shaves that beard though.
My Fella is coming into town this weekend (I just needed a break from all his kith and kin!) and we will celebrate his birthday. I've saved back a bit and am going to treat him to a locally owned steakhouse. It's going to be a splurge. I about half wish I hadn't offered, once I looked at their menu on line. but we will love every bite of it.
Weather has a cool snap. Feels like Fall might actually come now. I noticed a few days ago the light seemed to be changing. Those two are the hints that my birthday is coming. Just another week and then. . . . .
I went and looked at one today, and drove past two others about which I had called, and will probably set up appts tomorow to see them. There is one around the corner from me, to which I have placed a call and am hopeful for a return tomorrow, that, if I like it, would be just schnazzy for a move-in. It's not two blocks away. Almost a shame to rent the U-Haul.
I haven't told the landlord yet. He's sort of (emphasis on sort of, not actually) a pal, and I hate to leave. Since 1999. Maybe it's just time to go. Anyway, his part time maintenance guy is upstairs tonight redoing a floor, and he works full time for one of the management companies I called today. Once I do a sight inspection, and know if I am really interested, I'll ask him about them. But at that point, I have to tell the landlord, 'cause he'll know then anyway. As for tonight, I just flirted with him. He's quite the cutie. More so when he shaves that beard though.
My Fella is coming into town this weekend (I just needed a break from all his kith and kin!) and we will celebrate his birthday. I've saved back a bit and am going to treat him to a locally owned steakhouse. It's going to be a splurge. I about half wish I hadn't offered, once I looked at their menu on line. but we will love every bite of it.
Weather has a cool snap. Feels like Fall might actually come now. I noticed a few days ago the light seemed to be changing. Those two are the hints that my birthday is coming. Just another week and then. . . . .
Monday, September 10, 2007
2a.m.
and I was up again. I went to bed around midnight, thought I was tired. It's now almost four and my usual trick of milk & dairy did me no good. I think it's too much running through my head: remember to call Red's old landlord, where is the info sheet on that apartment you went by today, email yourself this, measure that. . . . . though I have tried to lay down and go back to sleep.
You know I even ironed this week's clothes before bed, so there'd be no rush in the morning. (Sissy, are you thinking what I'm thinking?)
Well, if I measured this apartment right, it's about 644 square feet of living space. So we'll just see what we see.
You know I even ironed this week's clothes before bed, so there'd be no rush in the morning. (Sissy, are you thinking what I'm thinking?)
Well, if I measured this apartment right, it's about 644 square feet of living space. So we'll just see what we see.
Sunday, September 9, 2007
General Rambling
Bliss in Bloom gave me the website of dreammoods.com, but it was just too hard to piece together the meaning of a dream containing
-a trailer that was supposedly the home of parents of a friend from high school
-surrounded by a rock garden of white rocks
-with a hand truck/two wheeler/dolly
-and a Chevy Silverado reminiscent of the one I had about ten years ago
or a dream containing
-a trip to Wal Mart, where I never made it to Wal Mart
-a (clean) gas station, where I saw my boyfriend in an empty seating/restaurant area
So I am moving on to say that I spent the better part of the day cleaning out a closet, trying to clean up the spare bedroom, ironing my clothes for work this week, and networking about apartments. I drove by a few, have a few to call tomorrow, have the real estate section from today's paper, etc.
I treated myself to dinner at my favorite restaurant, had "the ginger" in all it's hot wing sauce glory, and that's about it for my day.
I'm planning on a good week.
-a trailer that was supposedly the home of parents of a friend from high school
-surrounded by a rock garden of white rocks
-with a hand truck/two wheeler/dolly
-and a Chevy Silverado reminiscent of the one I had about ten years ago
or a dream containing
-a trip to Wal Mart, where I never made it to Wal Mart
-a (clean) gas station, where I saw my boyfriend in an empty seating/restaurant area
So I am moving on to say that I spent the better part of the day cleaning out a closet, trying to clean up the spare bedroom, ironing my clothes for work this week, and networking about apartments. I drove by a few, have a few to call tomorrow, have the real estate section from today's paper, etc.
I treated myself to dinner at my favorite restaurant, had "the ginger" in all it's hot wing sauce glory, and that's about it for my day.
I'm planning on a good week.
Quote
from a newspaper clipping, yellow and worn, on my fridge:
"The modern experience of coming out of the closet has been funneled down to a prescribed set of rituals involving a blase soundtrack of disco anthems (gay and straight Americans alike now grow up knowing how to dance to "YMCA"), a few white tank-top T-shirts, some boots, some unhappy Thanksgiving dinners with the family, a regrettable tattoo, some poetry scribbled in journals. The majority of gay people do not get pummeled or fired or expelled; they emerge a wee bit neurotic and immediately set about shopping." - Washington Post reporter Hank Stuever, April 27.
though April 27 of what year, I can not tell you.
"The modern experience of coming out of the closet has been funneled down to a prescribed set of rituals involving a blase soundtrack of disco anthems (gay and straight Americans alike now grow up knowing how to dance to "YMCA"), a few white tank-top T-shirts, some boots, some unhappy Thanksgiving dinners with the family, a regrettable tattoo, some poetry scribbled in journals. The majority of gay people do not get pummeled or fired or expelled; they emerge a wee bit neurotic and immediately set about shopping." - Washington Post reporter Hank Stuever, April 27.
though April 27 of what year, I can not tell you.
Rain
The power went off about 9:30 last night. "They say" there was a wreck on our street, about 8 blocks down, and it took out a transformer. One of my neighbors said he called the power company and told them his father is on oxygen. I laughed so hard, his father recently passed on after a long illness. One of the neighbors, cute-young-straight, was out on the patio with his pal, and the air had the slightest hint of coolness and a very light breeze, so I joined them, soon followed by Foo Foo.
Once or twice the rain would spit, and we persevered, and then a storm came down. We gave up the patio, Foo Foo slipping to a fall as she went in. I found myself a few minutes later on my porch stoop with Upstairs Neighbor, watching a thick thick parade of traffic go by, no doubt detoured down our road by the accident and all the more congested for a ball game let out at the near by stadium.
Finally we gave it all up, coming in to go to bed in the dark. I spent more time than should have been necessary cleaning up the glass I had broken in the kitchen, but it's just hard to sweep, mop and pick up glass with one flashlight, in the pitch dark.
I'm about to shower and go to church, maybe the rain will hold off long enough for me to walk down there. Seems a shame to drive less than one block.
Once or twice the rain would spit, and we persevered, and then a storm came down. We gave up the patio, Foo Foo slipping to a fall as she went in. I found myself a few minutes later on my porch stoop with Upstairs Neighbor, watching a thick thick parade of traffic go by, no doubt detoured down our road by the accident and all the more congested for a ball game let out at the near by stadium.
Finally we gave it all up, coming in to go to bed in the dark. I spent more time than should have been necessary cleaning up the glass I had broken in the kitchen, but it's just hard to sweep, mop and pick up glass with one flashlight, in the pitch dark.
I'm about to shower and go to church, maybe the rain will hold off long enough for me to walk down there. Seems a shame to drive less than one block.
Dreams
are such a weird thing, and the way they come back to you in fragments. . . . I had one this morning that I had driven to My Fella's hometown, to go to Wal Mart, and ran into him at a gas station. I think that one is easy enough to figure out, wanting to see My Fella, when we both had other things to do this weekend.
The next one, I had driven to the parents home of a high school pal to get a truck/my truck, and a hand dolly. Only it wasn't really their house, not their real life one anyway. They were living in a trailer, with a white rock garden around it, and in the dream i had been helping him do some kind of . . . . construction work or house building work. . . . but he wasn't anywhere in the dream. Mainly just the trailer, the rocks, the hand dolly, and I remember that the truck in the dream was not my current vehicle, but more like a truck I owned probably 10 years ago. Which was, by the way, a Chevy Silverado with a 350 engine that ran like a scalded dog.
Odd.
The next one, I had driven to the parents home of a high school pal to get a truck/my truck, and a hand dolly. Only it wasn't really their house, not their real life one anyway. They were living in a trailer, with a white rock garden around it, and in the dream i had been helping him do some kind of . . . . construction work or house building work. . . . but he wasn't anywhere in the dream. Mainly just the trailer, the rocks, the hand dolly, and I remember that the truck in the dream was not my current vehicle, but more like a truck I owned probably 10 years ago. Which was, by the way, a Chevy Silverado with a 350 engine that ran like a scalded dog.
Odd.
Saturday, September 8, 2007
Lavendar and Ray
As much as September, it's sights and sounds, tell me that birthday is coming, I know what lies beyond the corner in October. I know what memories will assault me, and I remember how the grief consumed me for a year. For a year, I could not fight the tears, they came daily. On my way to work, on my way home, every day, every day.
Because October is when Great Aunt Ray died. He was handsome, and brave and true. Actually, he was grouchy and old and loved a good leather bar. But he was ours, and we were his.
When we met Ray, he had a life long career of being a road manager, a stage hand, a "roadie" in his heart. Oh, he loved the performance and the stage, the music, the ropes and the lingo. He had toured as a road manager with a 70's group of gospel and country. He loved the music, the stage, and everything about it. The lyrics to Jackson Brown's "The Load Out" made me think of him, even while he was alive. "Now roll them cases out and lift them amps. Haul them trusses down and get 'em up them ramps." He not only knew how to do all that stuff in the physical sense, but he understood the part they played in a show, in a production, and he loved it.
Often, I would faux-flirt with him. It seemed to bother him so much, that it was delightfully fun. I was probably a hundred pounds lighter then, and six years ago I may have still had a touch of youthfulness on my features. I certainly had it in my personality. To walk into his office, slide behind his chair and run my hands down his torso would upset him no end. So I was horribly surprised one day when he said, "I'm just an old queen." I said, "Ray, you'd have to be GAY to be a QUEEN." He said, "I am." The man had no sense of fashion, barely came to work in a clean shirt and wore big black doc martens with white socks, daily. There was not one hint, not one, in his personality, of his being gay. You could have bowled me over with a feather.
Sometime late, I would catch my first case of food poisoning. Not recognizing it for what it was, thinking it was just a bad cold coming on real fast, I went upstairs to an empty hotel room and tried to nap it off. Later that evening, sick at both ends of my body, Ray comes up to find me practically incapacitated. He goes downstairs to move his car close to the hotel entrance, comes back and gets a trash can and a pillow and takes me to the local clinic, calling my mother to say, "My name is Ray, I'm a friend of your son's. I think he's got food poisoning and I've brought him to the clinic near work." I have never needed a friend so badly, never had one so good.
Ray one day was holding a lavendar sachet, at the office. The way I remember it, we were both sort of visiting with someone else when the other guy noticed Ray was holding something like a bean bag. (We'll call the other guy Super Sarcastic British Gay Guy, or Brit for short). Ray said it was a lavendar sachet, a guest had given it to him. We mocked him furiously. Ray, big ol' leather bar, butch, macho dykey Ray, loved his leather sachet. So from there on out, we started calling him Great Aunt Ray. And we would sit in the employee lunch room and tell "someday" stories. How someday, the three of us would be on a cruise, ala Golden Girls style, and the young deckhands would flirt with me and Brit, and we would push Great Aunt Ray around in a wheelchair, and we'd tuck his sweater up with a little broch, and if the deckhands asked about her we'd say, "Oh never mind her. She just smells of gin." and then we'd roll her out of the sun. We did this furiously, just carried on and on and on. He would act like it made him mad, but I think the idea of him in a little sweater set, drinking gin and being pushed around in a wheelchair was so far from him, that he kind of thought it was funny. Sort of. I mean, even he had to admit that no one would think he'd take a lavendar sachet home and put in his drawers.
Ray eventually moved back near his home. He had been an only child and both his parents were gone before him. When he mentioned it, it always seemed like a deep sadness. But he did not linger on it. He found a gig working up there at a . . . venue? Stage? Stadium? Whatever those things are called, and he seemed genuinely happy. He liked his boss and was smitten by his young apprentice. After we met him,we were all smitten by him. His rogueish charm and rough hair, his "I do bad things" grin.
- - - This posting got a little long, and I had to put it down for a bit. There's so much emotion when I think about Great Aunt Ray. I'm going to go ahead and click "publish." I may post about him some more later. But that's enough for now.
Because October is when Great Aunt Ray died. He was handsome, and brave and true. Actually, he was grouchy and old and loved a good leather bar. But he was ours, and we were his.
When we met Ray, he had a life long career of being a road manager, a stage hand, a "roadie" in his heart. Oh, he loved the performance and the stage, the music, the ropes and the lingo. He had toured as a road manager with a 70's group of gospel and country. He loved the music, the stage, and everything about it. The lyrics to Jackson Brown's "The Load Out" made me think of him, even while he was alive. "Now roll them cases out and lift them amps. Haul them trusses down and get 'em up them ramps." He not only knew how to do all that stuff in the physical sense, but he understood the part they played in a show, in a production, and he loved it.
Often, I would faux-flirt with him. It seemed to bother him so much, that it was delightfully fun. I was probably a hundred pounds lighter then, and six years ago I may have still had a touch of youthfulness on my features. I certainly had it in my personality. To walk into his office, slide behind his chair and run my hands down his torso would upset him no end. So I was horribly surprised one day when he said, "I'm just an old queen." I said, "Ray, you'd have to be GAY to be a QUEEN." He said, "I am." The man had no sense of fashion, barely came to work in a clean shirt and wore big black doc martens with white socks, daily. There was not one hint, not one, in his personality, of his being gay. You could have bowled me over with a feather.
Sometime late, I would catch my first case of food poisoning. Not recognizing it for what it was, thinking it was just a bad cold coming on real fast, I went upstairs to an empty hotel room and tried to nap it off. Later that evening, sick at both ends of my body, Ray comes up to find me practically incapacitated. He goes downstairs to move his car close to the hotel entrance, comes back and gets a trash can and a pillow and takes me to the local clinic, calling my mother to say, "My name is Ray, I'm a friend of your son's. I think he's got food poisoning and I've brought him to the clinic near work." I have never needed a friend so badly, never had one so good.
Ray one day was holding a lavendar sachet, at the office. The way I remember it, we were both sort of visiting with someone else when the other guy noticed Ray was holding something like a bean bag. (We'll call the other guy Super Sarcastic British Gay Guy, or Brit for short). Ray said it was a lavendar sachet, a guest had given it to him. We mocked him furiously. Ray, big ol' leather bar, butch, macho dykey Ray, loved his leather sachet. So from there on out, we started calling him Great Aunt Ray. And we would sit in the employee lunch room and tell "someday" stories. How someday, the three of us would be on a cruise, ala Golden Girls style, and the young deckhands would flirt with me and Brit, and we would push Great Aunt Ray around in a wheelchair, and we'd tuck his sweater up with a little broch, and if the deckhands asked about her we'd say, "Oh never mind her. She just smells of gin." and then we'd roll her out of the sun. We did this furiously, just carried on and on and on. He would act like it made him mad, but I think the idea of him in a little sweater set, drinking gin and being pushed around in a wheelchair was so far from him, that he kind of thought it was funny. Sort of. I mean, even he had to admit that no one would think he'd take a lavendar sachet home and put in his drawers.
Ray eventually moved back near his home. He had been an only child and both his parents were gone before him. When he mentioned it, it always seemed like a deep sadness. But he did not linger on it. He found a gig working up there at a . . . venue? Stage? Stadium? Whatever those things are called, and he seemed genuinely happy. He liked his boss and was smitten by his young apprentice. After we met him,we were all smitten by him. His rogueish charm and rough hair, his "I do bad things" grin.
- - - This posting got a little long, and I had to put it down for a bit. There's so much emotion when I think about Great Aunt Ray. I'm going to go ahead and click "publish." I may post about him some more later. But that's enough for now.
M.P.
There was a letter in my door last night, several letters in several doors, actually. "As you probably already know leases are up for renewal and you have already guessed I must take a increase due to the never ending increases of insurance and the very near future tax increase that is coming."
The increase of $75 a month takes the total rent amount to sixty five percent of one of my paychecks, or over thirty percent of my monthly bring home. I had expected an increase of $50, but that jump of $75 is gonna hurt a bit.
I have lived in the building for over seven years, and only one tenant has lived here longer than me. For a few years, I helped the former owners manage it. I'm glad for the new landlord, he's a nice guy and takes a lot of pride in the place.
But I think he has reached my tipping point. I have gone on line to the local paper, to Craig's list, and am reaching out to friends to begin a search of apartments in my area. While I am sure there are plenty of apartments in this price range, I have to think that some of them may offer slightly nicer amenities for this price. At the very least, my ignorance of market value of apartments in the area is a hinderance to me, and I'll be looking straight away.
My friend Red has given me the contact number for her former landlord, who had some quite nice apartments with more amenities. His office is closed on Saturday, but I'll ring him straight away Monday morning.
I don't really want to leave. I am a creature of habit, and I have ingrained habits in this place. In addition, it is in a very nice part of town, within walking distance of several great restaurants, and I only share one wall with another tenant. I like the size of it, just ten units, so there is no high rise feel.
But still, his prices have gone up steadily since he bought the place, and there's been no change to my apartment at all. He did add a wash room out back, but at a dollar a wash and a dollar a load, it's more of a convenience than an amenity.
Oh well, we'll see what we can find.
The increase of $75 a month takes the total rent amount to sixty five percent of one of my paychecks, or over thirty percent of my monthly bring home. I had expected an increase of $50, but that jump of $75 is gonna hurt a bit.
I have lived in the building for over seven years, and only one tenant has lived here longer than me. For a few years, I helped the former owners manage it. I'm glad for the new landlord, he's a nice guy and takes a lot of pride in the place.
But I think he has reached my tipping point. I have gone on line to the local paper, to Craig's list, and am reaching out to friends to begin a search of apartments in my area. While I am sure there are plenty of apartments in this price range, I have to think that some of them may offer slightly nicer amenities for this price. At the very least, my ignorance of market value of apartments in the area is a hinderance to me, and I'll be looking straight away.
My friend Red has given me the contact number for her former landlord, who had some quite nice apartments with more amenities. His office is closed on Saturday, but I'll ring him straight away Monday morning.
I don't really want to leave. I am a creature of habit, and I have ingrained habits in this place. In addition, it is in a very nice part of town, within walking distance of several great restaurants, and I only share one wall with another tenant. I like the size of it, just ten units, so there is no high rise feel.
But still, his prices have gone up steadily since he bought the place, and there's been no change to my apartment at all. He did add a wash room out back, but at a dollar a wash and a dollar a load, it's more of a convenience than an amenity.
Oh well, we'll see what we can find.
Quote, television
He never raised his voice. That was the worst thing. The fury of the timelord. And then we discovered why. Why this doctor, who had fought with gods and demons, why he had run away and hidden from us. He was being kind.
Thursday, September 6, 2007
Quote
from BBC's "Jekyl", Claire to Dr. Jekyl.
"You bag a handsome doctor, there's bound to be some tiny bit of baggage."
"You bag a handsome doctor, there's bound to be some tiny bit of baggage."
Tuesday, September 4, 2007
We were never really friends,
but we tried once, briefly. As children, our parents were related and friends, so we were often tossed together in family situations. But we were not children with similar interests. In high school, we tried briefly to be friends, instead of just relatives, but it didn't really work.
Sometimes I go into his place of work, his wife's as well, and I will wander over to see if he is there, to speak to him, to say hi. I think of it as some sort of politeness, some form of honoring his parents, who loved me and whom I loved. It costs us both nothing, a handshake and a few minutes of conversation. We both know we won't be friends.
His birthday is a few days before mine, and a year almost past. Within 3 days of being one year younger than me.
At some point after graduation, he fathered a child and told his father that I was the dad. He then had a relationship with a married woman and fathered two children with her. She left her husband and married him, raising the children with him. Both grownish, in the last stages of high school. I think one may have graduated this past year. To his wife's suprise, he has a girlfriend and a little girl, who I think is now 2. Named after his mother.
His wife isn't sure she wants to leave her husband. He's not sure he wants to divorce his wife, but he's not giving up his girlfriend or his young daughter. They briefly tried some type of 3 way, but his wife just really wasn't into it.
Last I saw them, he caught me up on it all, and showed me a telephone picture of a very cute little girl. Then I ran into his wife, who acted as she always does. No hint that she's not living with her husband, after having tried some multi partner version of a relationship.
He makes me look dull and normal by comparison.
But they say that gays are destroying marriage.
Sometimes I go into his place of work, his wife's as well, and I will wander over to see if he is there, to speak to him, to say hi. I think of it as some sort of politeness, some form of honoring his parents, who loved me and whom I loved. It costs us both nothing, a handshake and a few minutes of conversation. We both know we won't be friends.
His birthday is a few days before mine, and a year almost past. Within 3 days of being one year younger than me.
At some point after graduation, he fathered a child and told his father that I was the dad. He then had a relationship with a married woman and fathered two children with her. She left her husband and married him, raising the children with him. Both grownish, in the last stages of high school. I think one may have graduated this past year. To his wife's suprise, he has a girlfriend and a little girl, who I think is now 2. Named after his mother.
His wife isn't sure she wants to leave her husband. He's not sure he wants to divorce his wife, but he's not giving up his girlfriend or his young daughter. They briefly tried some type of 3 way, but his wife just really wasn't into it.
Last I saw them, he caught me up on it all, and showed me a telephone picture of a very cute little girl. Then I ran into his wife, who acted as she always does. No hint that she's not living with her husband, after having tried some multi partner version of a relationship.
He makes me look dull and normal by comparison.
But they say that gays are destroying marriage.
Monday, September 3, 2007
Weekend
I've missed Saving Grace and The Closer, but it is safely on Tivo. It was upsetting that Dr. Who was a repeat, but the part 2 episode will be new this coming Friday.
I left work just a wee bit early Friday, and quite frankly I needed it. Saturday morning brought My Fella and his brother Jamie, whose eye is again blue, and we had a very nice weekend. First we helped next door neighbor (Foo Foo girl) give the patio a good Fall cleaning - scrubbing the sap off the furniture, bleaching the umbrella, sweeping and hosing off the patio bricks. We started off our day together with a cheap matinee Saturday and sat through the Fantastic Four sequel, which was well worth $2.50 a person. My Fella made school house spaghetti for supper, and after I complimented him on it, he said, "It's from a can." Well, it's still good. And I didn't make it. I truly wanted to go to church Sunday morning, but instead we found ourselves at Home Depot, looking at mums and gardening supplies. We heated up spaghetti for lunch, then sat down to watch a Harry Potter dvd in the afternoon. After supper at McAlister's, they headed for home. It's not fancy, but it's ours and we enjoyed it.
Me: 1/4 muffaletta
My Fella: Roast beef with chips
Jamie: Smoked turkey on croissant with chips
I left work just a wee bit early Friday, and quite frankly I needed it. Saturday morning brought My Fella and his brother Jamie, whose eye is again blue, and we had a very nice weekend. First we helped next door neighbor (Foo Foo girl) give the patio a good Fall cleaning - scrubbing the sap off the furniture, bleaching the umbrella, sweeping and hosing off the patio bricks. We started off our day together with a cheap matinee Saturday and sat through the Fantastic Four sequel, which was well worth $2.50 a person. My Fella made school house spaghetti for supper, and after I complimented him on it, he said, "It's from a can." Well, it's still good. And I didn't make it. I truly wanted to go to church Sunday morning, but instead we found ourselves at Home Depot, looking at mums and gardening supplies. We heated up spaghetti for lunch, then sat down to watch a Harry Potter dvd in the afternoon. After supper at McAlister's, they headed for home. It's not fancy, but it's ours and we enjoyed it.
Me: 1/4 muffaletta
My Fella: Roast beef with chips
Jamie: Smoked turkey on croissant with chips
Coming
I have not yet felt it coming. Perhaps the 103 degree weather has kept it at bay, but soon perhaps, soon, I will feel the tinge of Fall that preceeds my birthday and heralds in the feelings of school and golden brown leaves. It is as welcoming to me as the candles on my birthday cake, as soft as a kiss, the fall breeze in the air. It tells me there is a county fair in my hometown, that swimming pools become cool, and in the last couple of years, it tells me that a sleeve may be needed for nights on the patio.
September 2 is the birthday of two separate childhood friends. While I always remember their birthday, I have begun to forget to get the cards in time for a timely delivery. Mary Lee is one of the non family people I have known the longest. We met at a summer camp, third grade. She lived in a town about an hour from mine, but her grandparents lived in the neighborhood of the camp. We became fast friends. What we have now is more of a strong memory of a friendship, but I'm not willing yet to let the memories go. The card goes in the mail, and in a few weeks I will receive one from her.
Her son should be a teenager by now, her daughter into elementary school, I suppose. Last I knew, she had worked through some marital problems and had reaffirmed her love for her husband.
Her grandmother is, I hope, still alive. The last I saw Mary Lee, her mother had died and I traveled to the funeral. It seemed appropriate, but odd. Like watching a television show and knowing that you know them well, but they're not part of your life. Once, her brothers and sister held a fascination for me. Wild and reckless they all were. I envisioned they lived lives of mayhem and mischief, and I may not have been wrong. But that was long ago. Another time, another place, another life. Today, somewhere, is a wife and a mother, and I hope she had a happy birthday yesterday.
September 2 is the birthday of two separate childhood friends. While I always remember their birthday, I have begun to forget to get the cards in time for a timely delivery. Mary Lee is one of the non family people I have known the longest. We met at a summer camp, third grade. She lived in a town about an hour from mine, but her grandparents lived in the neighborhood of the camp. We became fast friends. What we have now is more of a strong memory of a friendship, but I'm not willing yet to let the memories go. The card goes in the mail, and in a few weeks I will receive one from her.
Her son should be a teenager by now, her daughter into elementary school, I suppose. Last I knew, she had worked through some marital problems and had reaffirmed her love for her husband.
Her grandmother is, I hope, still alive. The last I saw Mary Lee, her mother had died and I traveled to the funeral. It seemed appropriate, but odd. Like watching a television show and knowing that you know them well, but they're not part of your life. Once, her brothers and sister held a fascination for me. Wild and reckless they all were. I envisioned they lived lives of mayhem and mischief, and I may not have been wrong. But that was long ago. Another time, another place, another life. Today, somewhere, is a wife and a mother, and I hope she had a happy birthday yesterday.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
