Facebook Account Disabled

In case you follow me on Facebook, you won't be -- today at least. My account has been disabled for some reason unknown to me. They are looking into it. So, don't think you're going crazy by not seeing me there.

I'm in San Diego tonight and will be in San Francisco tomorrow night. Thanksgiving was good. We spent it with our good friends Alex and Paul plus a few others. We took mashed potatoes (complete with two sticks of melted butter, Gorgonzola and mozzarella cheese, and bread crumbs on top) along with dressing of caramelized onions, water chestnuts, green apple, and celery. It was a nice holiday and it's always good to be with friends. '

My motivation for posting has waned. Unfortunately. I think it's my time of the month.

The Object of His Affection

He sat in 3F. First Class, that is. Poised, fairly quiet, giant stylish sunglasses hiding his close to 60-year-old eyes. But it was his wearing a suit with a jacket that struck me. Not so many folks dress up any longer. And a pink dress shirt to boot. Now, the dress shirt was unbuttoned further than normal -- probably just about where I'd, personally, wear mine. Just enough to show off whatever happens to be on my chest at any given moment in time. Some giant gold piece of expensive jewelry hung around his neck.

"I'll have a tomato juice with ice and two vodkas, please" he uttered when I asked him what he'd like to drink. Fine. One drink down, another ordered in a fairly short amount of time. Somehow, we got on the subject of where we were from and where we were going -- typical conversation in my business. I reach my slender hairy forearm across and rest his second drink on the stand next to him. He catches my attention and dives into an animated, theatrical version of "Perhaps you've heard of "Listen my children and you shall hear of the midnight ride of Paul Revere.....'." Why yes. Yes, I have heard it. He goes on to tell me that he grew up west of Boston in some proximity to where Longfellow lived and wrote. He is dramatic and looks me squarely in the eyes with his wrist held limp and his arms up in the air a bit -- much like he's performing on a stage.

We get to the uncomfortable time where's he's ordering his third double drink within an hour of starting. Now, that's six drinks at a cabin altitude of around 8,000 feet above sea level. That's like going from zero to sixty in a short amount of time and drinking while you're doing it. And we have, like, four hours to go in the flight ahead of us. He tell me that "I'm planning on being well oiled by the time I reach Boston so just keep the drinks coming." Oh boy. So, I take his third double drink to him and tell him that the airplane probably isn't the best place to become well oiled.....that we are not permitted to let anyone get to that point on a flight. He's very kind about it, thankfully. Many times, people aren't nice to me at this point. He nods to me and sort of waves me off -- not in a bad way but, rather, in a "I know" sort of way. A bit later, he's headed to the restroom and says to me, "If you had a son like I do picking you up in Boston, you'd want to be well oiled too." I tell him that I totally understand -- and that family members can many times be the ones that drive one to drink. He laughs. I laugh. It's all good.

He hands me a section of a magazine that he's torn out and written down some information on: Longfellow's Wayside Inn in South Sudbury, Massachusetts. There's a phone number there too. And it also says to ask for him, by name. A very nice gesture, don't you think? I appreciated the interaction by a stranger. He tells me that I need to stop in sometime.

At that point, he sort of fades out into la-la land for a little nap. Six drinks in an hour will do that to you. I notice that he's sort of almost to the end of his third drink and that it's almost to fall out of his hand while he rests with his head back and mouth open. Next thing I know, his linen napkin is covered in tomato juice. He's obviously spilled the last remaining bit of his drink on himself and had to wipe it up in a napkin that now looks like a murder took place. I remove his glass and napkin from his lap while he's resting peacefully.

He wakes a bit later and orders a brandy. I space it out as long as I can before delivering it to him. And, finally, nearing Boston, I hear him say to me "I'd like another brandy," while I've got my back to him and speaking to the folks across the aisle. That's his last drink. Eight in one flight. Clearly in need of drinking his relationship with his son into annihilation. Believe me, my heart went out to the dude. I'm sure he was gay. And clearly enamoured with me. I was flattered, believe me. But I honestly felt sorry for him. Because I'm sure that his son has given him hell in his life. And that his son has probably struggled as well with this man that I've just spent the last five hours with.

I've still got the phone number and address of the place he said to drop his name at. Maybe I will sometime. Maybe he will buy me a drink this time around.

Sunset North of Michigan

The sun had just gone down and was casting the most amazing brilliant redish-orangish glow in the sky off the right side of the aircraft. It was 2:20pm on my watch, three hours behind actuality. We were passing over the north of Michigan state, my First Class service was complete, and I sat down to read a single sentence in Armistead Maupin's book Michael Tolliver Lives. It's on page 14 if you're interested and it reads: "Some people think we finally become adults when both our parents have died; for me it happened when someone desired the person I'd become." It got me to thinking a bit introspectively about life, death, relationships, growing up, changing, or not changing.

It was then that the captain called me for a pee-pee break which means that I go into the flight deck while he comes out. It was dark up there as my eyes focused on the many bells and whistles and colored instrument panels that lay before me. I always glance at the big screen that shows where we are and which cities we're passing over and which airports are nearest to us in case we ever need to make an emergency diversion. And I saw the flight path which included a direct hit over Albany, New York. "KALB" is how it looks on the instrument in the airplane -- and don't ask me what the "K" stands for. I have no idea. I pour coffee for a living for god's sake.

Albany is home to many of my dear friends. I was headed to Boston, 160 miles east of Albany, for a one-night layover. I haven't been back to this area of the country since last July when we joined all of our Albany friends (and a million other sexy bear men) at Bear Week in Provincetown. What a super great week we had. But we also had a bit of trouble in P-Town. Potentially friend-threatening trouble. Totally skipping every single detail, because I simply cannot rehash it any more than I already have in my heart and soul, I will simply tell you that I got tears in my eyes as I tried to stare out the window ahead of our 500mph moving airplane last night. I was speaking with another friend recently who told me how much he valued me, both Blair and me. How much he enjoyed being around us and how much we meant to him. And that we would always be considered a valuable part of his life, no matter what. I started to cry during that phone conversation (god, is it my time of the month or what). I feel amazingly poorly about the rift, the crevice, that has been dumped into the middle of this beautiful friendship -- and into my life as a whole. So, we passed over KALB rapidly and discretely overhead. I wonder if my friends just happened to glance overhead and see me? Because I saw them.

And that reminds me, it's only a few days until the most thankful holidays of all....Thanksgiving.

Saucy Pirate Wenches

Another of the many interesting readings on the reader board at Pirate's Cove along Sandy Boulevard in Northeast Portland. It's in our former neighborhood but we still pass by frequently. Last Christmas? "No Fruitcakes, Please." I wasn't sure if I should go in or not.

The Rottenness of My Insides

So, I've had this thing nagging me inside for a while. Years, in fact. And it's just not going away. And yesterday my friend over at Lelo in Nopo posted this. About putting out good in the world in spite of the fact that we have a totally messed up world. I read her post and commented on it: "I agree...I really do. I think about this regularly, all of the time. Honestly. But I have such a difficult time putting it into practice. Sometimes I do. Many times I don't. I find myself thinking terrible things about terrible people. I'm trying. I guess I'll keep on doing so. Because I believe in the good, I really do. Thanks for the reminder."

Diving into yoga a year ago has made my thought processes even more pronounced inside of me. And having certain people and situations in my life around me has simply added to my giant fight. The bottom line is this: There are people that I do not like, nor care for, nor like their actions, nor like their choices, nor nor nor nor. That's it. That's the simple, honest, truth. I could hide it and say that I don't have those feelings. I could lie and say that I'm all about this send-good-into-the-world-sort-of-yoga-ish thing. And I am most of the time. But there are plenty of times when I'm not. I have a long list of things that irritate me and send my ire sky-high. At the end of each yoga class, we finish after savasana by saying "We give honor to the good in ourselves and in all others....Namaste." And nearly every time I say that, with my hands folded at my heart, my eyes closed and in silence, I question it. But maybe that's the point, eh? The questioning. The reminding myself of it. The habitual doing of it, over and over. Maybe that's what I need to continue reminding me of my humanity, my frailness, my weakness. Perhaps it will always be the thorn in my side that tries to keep me humble and attentive to the feelings inside. And now you all know what a rotten person I am inside sometimes. And that's my sermon for today.

I Love My Pooch

Hav'ta, Got'ta

I just hav'ta. I just got'ta. Post, that is. I've been contemplating, wondering, looking through some old ideas for posts. And nothing was coming to me. But I'm feeling pretty good this morning. It's a cold, clear morning. Mason and I woke up to an empty house -- Daddy, Papa, Lover Boy -- they had all left me. Alone. Without saying anything. I love to watch Mason as he skips (yes, he actually skips) down the sidewalk. Chasing leaves, commanding them to the ground, and sticking his little white fanny up in the air.

Today, our Human Resource/Benefits people from Corporate are in town for a Q&A on next year's giant medical insurance changes. We can stick with the traditional PPO that we have right now or migrate to a high-deductible Health Savings Account. All of the money you put into the HSA is yours. Forever. The point is that you can use the money in the account to pay for your insurance bills. But if you don't have any medical bills, you just keep the money building up in your account. It all sounds great except that the annual deductible on this plan is $1,200 and only $250 on the lower/regular PPO plan. Makes you think a few times before actually going to the doctor.

We've been sleeping like poo poo. Stress, I'm afraid. Nonetheless, things have evened out a bit. I'm afraid I'm at that point in my life wherein I need to practice what I preach. All of the powers of positive thinking that I've always claimed to have now need to be a part of my own life. I'm working on it. Albeit very slowly -- and many times not that you'd be able to tell unfortunately.

I'm loving the new MacBook Pro. But transferring my iTunes from my old PC to the new Mac is a real bitch. I followed very length, confusing instructions yesterday. And everything worked out just fine until I actually went to play the music. Nada. Nope. No how. The songs all show up in my iTunes. But they won't play because "the original file cannot be found." Now I'm more lost than ever.

What else can I tell you? I could go on and on about what we've been doing: We saw The Beggar's Opera and Company -- both of which were very very cool. We've been spending tons of time with our new BFF's Mark and Shawn. Our buddy D. is staying with us this coming weekend while he does monthly military guard duty. We're going to Alex and Paul's house for Thanksgiving with my MIL. Our December is starting to fill up with holiday plans -- and we've already decided that we are not going to get inundated with decorating and all of that -- it chills me to the bone to not be able to actually enjoy the holidays. My honey is contemplating a cruise next year with our good friend Alan. We're trying to decide if we will be participating in Provincetown Bear Week 2010 next summer or not. My hair is growing out a bit -- on its way to a whole new doo. I'm liking it most days.

Alright now, so I'm delving into the depths coming up with things to tell you. So, I'll close for now. Stay in touch. I need you!

Celebrity Extravaganza

Whew. I'm exhausted. This old goat has finished a whirlwind 24 hours in celebrity heaven. Totally unexpected. Quite pleased to have met the company of the following folks:

Melanie Griffith -- She and I chatted about her super cool knee-length boots and her tattoo. I told her and her daughter Stella to behave on their weekend in Portland. They promised they would. I just kept thinking that "this woman sleeps with Antonio." Everything was all better then.

Stella Banderas (child of Melanie Griffith and Antonio Banderas)

Neil Sedaka (plus his very handsome Russian traveling companion) -- playing near Vancouver BC tonight. Tells me he does about 60 concerts a year -- "They pay, I go," he tells me as his hand gently rested on my fuzzy forearm. I think he liked it as much as I did. I caught up with him again in baggage claim standing by himself and told him to "Be careful hanging out on street corners all by yourself....people may get the wrong impression." He laughed.

Stone Temple Pilots -- They are beginning a 3-week west to east Canadian tour tonight.

** Dean DeLeo (lead guitar, total rocker dude).

** Robert DeLeo (vocals and bass guitar) -- really handsome man, beautiful smile, and I didn't complain at all about the little hand on my shoulder just before he went back to his seat. Umm. Did I mention the smattering of chest fuzz above his shirt line.

** Eric Kretz (drummer) -- another rocker dude who was more than happy to chat us up.

I really needed this star-studded extravaganza. They were all so friendly, very polite, and quite personable and easy to talk with. Sort of the little fresh breath of air that I needed right now.

Are These The Eyes ??

What I fail to mention in this positive, uplifting and energizing video is the fact that I've had a pain in the chest for about four days now. I don't really think it's related to heart issues -- no other symptoms that would indicate that I need medical help. I think that maybe I pulled a muscle or twisted wrong or something. Either that or my heart just plain old hurts.

Another of Mason's Amazing Uncles

Happy 2nd Birthday Mason