Shallow! No Diving!

Am I just getting old?  Or are things changing around us?  Have Facebook and Twitter and Tumblr and Pinterest and Scruff and Grindr and Growlr and Loopt all changed the way we do business?  I feel like they are making our lives shallow.  I feel like they have cheapened us.  And like we want nothing more than a quick status update or picture.  And, hey now, that's it.  Nothing beyond that.  30 seconds and I'm done with you. 

I am friends with, shall we say, a lot of people.  Young, old, odd, normal, the whole lot.  What about young people today who are actively engaged in searching out a long-term relationship partner.  Are there any?  I see plenty of status updates, pictures, and chatting but I don't see too many dates with fully engaged intentions of seeking out a relationship.  You know, the kind of relationships that will carry us way out into our 60s, 70s or even 80s.  Dare I go out on a limb here and say that I think we are happy with the way all of the aforementioned websites and apps have allowed us to not have to deal with the actual reality of 10-, 20, 30-plus year relationships.  I'll shoot you a picture but I certainly don't want to have to wake up next to you -- well, more than one or two mornings, anyway.  We don't have to work at anything anymore.  I will simply defriend you if I don't like you.  Well, either that or just "hide" you to avoid an actual, live, in-person conversation or confrontation about an issue. 

I would guess that it is easier to handle the virtual life rather than real life.  It requires little.  It costs me next to nothing.  And I don't have to practice my communication skills.  I can tell you that I'm 40 when I'm actually 50 because the chances of us ever meeting are next to none.  I can say "LOL" or "WTF" because it's fast, easy -- and we all know what they mean nowadays.  I can "like" your status update or make a quick quip or snappy comment about your two sentences.  And leave it at that.  That's it.  The extent of our relations many times now.  Someone said to me a while back that "I'm too scared of real life to actually live it."  Virtual life is much easier. 

What do you think the long-term effect is on our world?  Our families?  Our homes and relationships?  Or work world?  What do you think that the family unit will look like in 50 years?  Or homes?  I think our homes will exist virtually rather than actually.  Humm.  Food for thought. 

The (Blood) Pressure Within

I have taken a vow of silence.  For this year.  To have less discussion about my health ills.  The last few months of 2012 were crap.  Utter crap.  Things went to hell in a pretty homemade handbasket in mid-October with my diagnosis of Horner's Syndrome and a dissection of my carotid arteries followed by a hospital stay, blood thinners, an ultrasound, three CT scans, injections into my fat pale white belly, and all of the subsequent grisly details of such.  So for this year, things are looking up so far.  And I have a bit less intention of discussing my health.  Except for this one thing that I'm very happy about.  My blood pressure.

My BP was 100% normal up until a year or two ago.  You see, I track everything.  Every number, cholesterol, blood pressure, thyroid, PSA, liver, kidney, everything.  I want to know.  I like to know.  I visited with a cardiologist a year ago and he suggested that I begin a minimal dose of high blood pressure medications.  My BP had began to creep upwards....from the normal 120/80 up into the 130s and even the 140s.  So I started a 5mg dose of Lisinopril a year ago and voila! the BP went right back down to normal.  Perfect.  Easy.  Whew.

Until I ended up in the hospital November with all of the aforementioned ills.  They check your BP every two hours in the hospital you know.  Everything is tracked, charted and plotted.  "Is your blood pressure always this high," they began to ask.  No, it isn't, thank you.  It was in the 130/140s and into the 150/160s sometime.  And even the diastolic (bottom) number was headed up.....90, 100.  Far too high.  So my normal BP had been hijacked....grrrr, just one more thing to have to deal with.   One of the doctor's suggested that I increase my BP meds to counteract it.  But the cardiovascular surgeon suggested that we actually do not increase the medications.  He explained that since I was on blood thinners for the carotid artery dissection, he was actually happy with a slight elevation of the BP for now -- for increased cerebral profusion, as he put it -- to keep good flow to the brain.  I mentioned that perhaps even my BP was on the rise due to the stress and anxiety of the last few months.  So, I've waited.  And waited.  Right up until two weeks ago.......

Two weeks ago, right after the celebratory welcoming of 2013 had been completed, my BP dropped back to what I call normal of 115-125 over 70-80.  Perfect.  And it has stayed there.  I couldn't be happier.  I have no idea why.  It happened so suddenly.  Maybe it's an indication of some sort of healing taking place inside my carotid arteries.  Maybe it is my determination to be in the gym doing something, no matter how insignificant it may seem, while my arteries heal.  But it has happened.  So, I'm tracking it faithfully as I always do.  But for now the pressure that lies within has become, shall we say, less pressurish.  Smile. 

I Like Cock

This will come as no surprise but there are days when I think I've seen and heard it all.  But I know that I haven't....quite yet.  And today brought yet another humorous round of frivolity in the sky.  Big group of nice looking men traveling home together from a conference.  Old, younger, all types, nice and friendly.  One super nice looking big-armed upper 20s dude plunks his self into an aisle seat.  His older, married, bellied buddy plunks his butt across the aisle.  Young dude falls asleep.  His older traveling companion ends up in the back galley and chats about his low-back pains and such.  And continues on about traveling with such a young kid and how the kid can't focus on any damned thing for more than a minute or two.  "Shiny Object" and the young guy is off and runnin' until there's another momentary diversion.  This appears to be a fairly common way of running one's life nowadays with younger folk. 

So older guy tells us that they were supposed to leave their hotel at 0700 for the airport and that was the understood time of departure.  Older dude wakes up at 0500 and no young guy in the room...he hadn't been in all night long.  Older guy surmises that he has been out with a group of three Dutch women that they had met the night before.  Young kids these days, they just can't remain focused for very long at all.  And they wear themselves out quickly -- staying out all night long.  The young kid is now asleep and older dude has an idea:

He asks us if we have a Magic Marker -- he wants to play a trick on the kid.  He tells us that he wants to write "I Like Cock" across the front of his t-shirt while he is asleep.  Oh lord, this is getting good.  I mention that perhaps he does, in fact, like cock.  Nah, old guy says, he really liked those Dutch women last night.  Kid sleeps away the rest of the flight.  Old guy finds a small little teeny tiny airplane cutout from a magazine and drops it gingerly from the sky above the kid's muscled-out chest.  The airplane lands gently between his nipples.  And he continues to sleep. 

I'm telling you, you just never know what's going to happen next in life.

I'm Not Compassionate

Did you know that?  I'm not compassionate.  Occasionally I am, given the right set of circumstances and people.  I'm not overly touchy-feely.  Nor wishy-washy.  I don't put up with excuses or delays or blah blah blah.  I call things as I see them, verbally many times.  And on my face and in my emotions other times.

I had an encounter over the transition into the new year -- which I'm calling Lucky '13 by the way.  The encounter was unexpected and completely out of the blue.  I was told that I'm not compassionate and that some people will spend their lives trying to earn my approval.  My approval is hard to come by, just for the record.  I actually don't even consider those sorts of thoughts except on a very rare basis.  But that's the problem, apparently.  I don't consider it.

I'm just me.  Black and white.  Sensible.  Able to see processes and procedures easily and am not enamored with diversions to get where I'm going.  I would say that more than half of the world is in the way of where I want to go.  Not a lot of fluff or patting on the back.  I'm a get things done sort of guy.  If you want a problem solved, you'll come to me.  If you want to simply talk about solving a problem, you won't come to me.  I expect everyone to pull themselves up by the boot straps and stay focused.  I know, I know....a big ethereal sort of nonrealistic vision.  But I'm relatively comfortable right there. 

So I start Lucky '13 with a new set of accusations.  Ones that I've known about for a very long time.  Ones, even, that I think about from time to time.  None of the finger-pointing at me was a surprise.  You see, I have lived with myself for nearly 51 years now.  I know myself quite well.  And I'm nearly completely comfortable there.  But these things do cause a moment for pause and reflection.  And when the new year is still so fresh, reflection is paramount. 

Head Games

It is clear that middle age is upon me.  I turned 50 earlier this year and, I must say, it's all gone to hell in the last 30 days.  I was what I thought a vibrant sort of guy.   The gym, yoga, boot camp class, treadmill, weight lifting, worked a full schedule, got up early, took fish oil/B complex/multi vitamin/aspirin, ate well, didn't smoke, drinks only occasionally, and had a (fairly) good attitude.  Umm yeah.  All of that has been placed on the back burner. 

Three or so weeks ago, the headache, eye pain, and neck ache began along with a droopy left eye.  My first thought was stroke.  But the diagnosis was Horner's Syndrome.  I'd never heard of it.  After that, the quest was to find the cause for the Horner's.  One of my two neurologists sent me for a CT scan of the brain, neck and chest which returned a startling discovery -- bilateral dissected carotid arteries.  And that was one week ago today.  Critical.  Cardiovascular surgeon was placed on hold pending my further assessment.  "You need to return to the hospital and check yourself in immediately."  The risk for stroke was high.  I spent last weekend in the hospital with LoverBoy right next to me on a cot.  I have determined that hospitals are not for resting and recouperating.  They are noisy, busy, interruptive, repeatedly answering the same questions, and listening to crazy patients in the rooms next door.  I had eight or ten doctors visit me in my room.  Excellent care and nursing staff. 

Let's talk about the cause for the dissection of the arteries for a minute.....I have no definitive idea why mine happened.  Yoga?  Gym?  Weight lifting?  Twisting my neck wrong?  The list of possibilities is long and includes: 

• Neck extension during hair-washing at a beauty parlor
• Chiropractic manipulation of the neck
• Whiplash injuries
• Blunt trauma to the neck
• Extreme neck extension during yoga
• Painting a ceiling
• Coughing, vomiting and sneezing
• Neck extension while receiving mouth-to-mouth during cardiopulmonary resuscitation (CPR)

I left the hospital shooting myself in the stomach twice daily with Lovenox, a blood thinner.  This medication was accompanied by the world famous and widely prescribed "rat poison" Coumadin/Warfarin.  As soon as the Coumadin was at the proper level of thinning my blood, I would terminate the Lovenox shots.  That happened yesterday.  My blood is thin enough, but not too thin, now they say.  This Coumadin regimen will continue for the next six months -- Blood draws to check the levels every few days or a week, maybe up to a month.  I will repeat the CT scan then.  The cardiovascular surgeon fully expects that the dissection of the carotids will have healed itself by then.  I had no idea!  That was a small piece of good news in this whole mess.  I had anticipated dealing with it for the remainder of my life.  I've also visited with a Neuro Opthamologist -- a Canadian-born woman of great education and knowledge in Horner's Syndrome and the dissection.  She told me my eye was in perfect medical health, nothing to worry about there.  She discussed my condition with huge amounts of experience and made me feel much better about my prognosis. 

While I was in the hospital, they discovered a 70% blockage in my celiac artery.  Because one thing isn't enough....right?!  I was having no symptoms and had no idea it was there.  They said it could have been there a very long time, possibly even from birth.  But they'd like to do an ultrasound on it to measure the blood flow and track it again in six months to see if the occlusion/blockage has gotten worse or not.  So I had the ultrasound yesterday.  Brad, the technician, was amazing and offered me all kinds of information and medical information -- I love that stuff.  BUT, since I had the test, guess what.....I now have symptoms in the very spot where the celiac artery lies.  Just below the xiphoid process, which is on the center line just below your rib cage.  It has hurt since I left the test yesterday.  It kept me awake for about an hour in the night.  Lawdy.  Lawdy.  Lawdy.  So back to see my primary care doctor this afternoon.  Surgery is the fix for the celiac artery issue.  I can't wait. 

I'm 50.  I have already outlived several adults in my family who died in their 40s.  My own father had two heart attacks just a year or so ahead of my current age.  He eventually died at 62 from Lou Gehrig's Disease.  Both grandfathers died in their 60s, or barely 70.  No men in my immediate family have lived past 70.  This crap plays heavy games in my head.  I think about it.  I wonder about it.  I mean, I feel in some ways like I'm just getting started in my life.  Happy, (was) healthy, eating nicely, enjoying things.  But now I wonder.  Who knows what tomorrow will bring. Let's just say that I'm more than thankful for insurance. Oh yeah, and one more thing, I'm supposed to be working at a real live job somewhere in the middle of this whole mess. 

I Think I'll Live For Now

Take a good close look above.  That's what not one, but both, of my carotid arteries apparently looks like.  At the top of the carotid, just at the base of where the carotid enters the skull.  The above scenario is not good.  It allows for lessened blood flow and it also poses high risk for blood clots or complete obstruction causing a stroke.  Or if a clot was allowed to form and then move into the brain....well, let's not talk about that. 

You'll remember my earlier troubles and the diagnoses of Horner's Syndrome a few weeks back.  One of the many reasons for Horner's to develop is, indeed, a dissection of the carotid arteries.  I had hopes for a lesser-impactful, happier shall we say, reason.  Last Thursday and Friday, we had our entire condominium returned to hardwood floors.  There were four workers here, the entire place was in disarray and sawdust, and the workers headed home after finishing a beautiful job.  I went to Portland Providence Medical Center for my CT scan of the brain, neck and chest.  I headed home and began helping clean the condo and putting things back in place.  And the neurologist called.  "I'm advising you to return to the Emergency Room immediately..."  What?  Huh?  I feel good.  Can't I wait until tomorrow?  Or Monday when my doctor's office opens?  Before long, two more doctors had called with the same recommendation.....return to the ER at once.  You are running a high risk of stroke.  Now, I had not been too worried about this whole thing until right at that point.  I had been optimistic and pretty upbeat.  But suddenly I'm on the internet reading about emergency surgery to put in a stent.  And he said it was both sides.  And that it was significant.  You can read about the whole affair over at LoverBoy's site here.  So I showered and headed back to the hospital fully expecting emergency surgery.  I found out later from the Cardiovascular Surgeon that he had been alerted and was ready for me in the operating room.  I had very few symptoms.  And my Horner's Syndrome symptoms from a few weeks ago had improved and were actually almost gone.  The doctor's began coming in and you know how that goes.  I answered the same medical questions ad nausea for three days repeatedly.  They agreed that the surgery was not necessary at this point.  I began blood thinning medication to reduce the chance of clots.  One of the thinners is an injection that I'm giving to myself.  The other is the world-famous Coumadin, or Warfarin.  It is powerful and has to be monitored many times a week to start with.  I'll have my blood drawn 2-3 times a week and they make adjustments to the medication -- they don't want the blood to thick or too thin.  Huge risks of bleeding...externally or internally. 

My conversation with my new friend the Cardiovascular Surgeon was really a good one.  Don't tell anyone, but he likes me.  He told me so.  He said that he enjoys being around guys like me who are positive, energetic, go to the gym, eat right, don't smoke and take an active role in their health care.  And he went on to say that he fully expects that my dissection will repair itself over the next six months. Wow.  Really?  I guess I thought that I would be on blood thinners for the remainder of my life.  But the doc says no.  Repeat CT scan in six months to check it out again.  I think the tears in my eyes alerted him to how happy I was simply to be alive.  And to hear his good news made it just that much better.  He patted me on the knee as he walked out. 

So I'm home this morning.  Getting ready to shoot myself in the stomach with the needle of blood thinning meds.  No weight lifting.  Super easy, no running, on the treadmill.  And no work this week until the blood thinners have a chance to get up to speed and evened out.  I'm nervous.  I keep thinking of those two carotid arteries which are each of our lifelines to being alive.  It makes me super nervous.  I think of my family history and how I've already outlived several men in my family.  And how my father had two heart attacks at my age.  It's unsettling and I have a hard time shaking the thoughts.  But I am alive.  And I have the best pooch and husband in the world.  And the friends!  The friends!  Facebook, texts, voice mails and emails clearly indicate that I have a group of the world's most amazing friends.  And I thank you.  From the bottom of my heart, I thank you.  Oh, here I go again crying.  I've gotta go. 

Horner's Syndrome

Horner's Syndrome.  Have you ever heard of it?  Nope, neither had I.  Until a few days ago when a neurologist told me that he thinks I have it.  You see, I've had a headache, pain behind my eye, and neck pain all on the left side for two weeks now.  I guess that's not considered normal.  So my doctor sent me for a CT scan.  Nothing.  Normal.  All of my blood work is status quo.  And then she referred me to the neurologist who gave me the above, tentative, diagnosis.

My left eye is sagging.  Drooping.  Just like in the picture.  And there have been a few small episodes where it felt like the left eye was trying to close, or droop.  They happen most often when I'm looking down....trying to text, or read something.  And you won't believe this, but the left side of my forehead isn't sweating to the same degree as the right side.  Weird.  But that's one of the telltale signs.   And I have a strange, unusual sensation on the left side of my forehead.  Not like the right.  The left is more sensitive and feels sort of, well, I don't even know how to describe it to you.  Weird.  And my pupils.  My pupils are asymmetrical....the left one being slightly smaller than the right. 

Horner's Syndrome is nothing in and of itself.  It's the manifestation of something else going on.  An issue with nerves being blocked or pinched.  So we need to find out what is causing it and deal with that.  There are a long list of possible causes -- some that wouldn't even hardly phase a guy -- and some that are quite serious.  Things like middle ear infections all of the way to tumors in the chest, head, and neck.  Multiple sclerosis.  Carotid artery troubles.  Cluster headaches.  The list is long...you can see it in the Horner's Syndrome link here.

I'm headed for a CT scan of the brain, carotid arteries, and neck.  And possibly an MRI beyond that.  Also an xray of the chest looking for tumors.  And to see a Neuro Ophthalmologist.  Ever heard of one?  Nope, neither had I.  This person is extremely educated in the intricacies of the brain and eyes and how they work together.  Her appointments are currently scheduled several months out.  But I got in ten days from now because of my urgent referral from the neurologist.

There is a possibility that they will not discover the precise cause.  And there is the possibility that it will go away all by itself.  I've been on Ibuprofen for two weeks.  But that has lessened a bit in the last day or two.  One bit of good news, right?  So, off we go.  Into unknown territory.  It can't be any worse than brain cancer, right?  Like my mom has always said about whatever physical troubles she is having, "Honey, if this is the worst thing that I ever have to deal with, I'll be okay."  I have at least some of her optimism right now.  I think.  

Boot Camp 101

Boot camp.  Do you do it?  Have you gone?  Are you sore?

My friend Matthew is just completely convinced that it is the cat's meow.  That is it THE thing to turn us into creatures of bathing beauty status by next spring.  If you haven't gone yet, it is probably one of the highest intensity workouts that you'll participate in.  A variety of workout stations set up around the room.  All sorts of barbells, dumbbells, and stepping risers at each stations.  Probably half of the room for upper body workout.  The other half for lower body.  It's a quick minute or two of warm up jumping jacks or push ups or some other pussified thing and then we're off!  To about 50 or so minutes of fast-paced, race car-speed-induced stations of exercises designed to raise your heart rate, keep it raised, and push your limits.  I would actually concur that it is beyond my limits and the limits of all but one, maybe two, people out of the 30 or so in my class.  There are no breaks, no periods of rest, other than the 10 seconds racing from one station to the next when straight Asian bodybuilder boy Sam who thinks that he's all of that with the chicks yells "Switch!"  But along with about 90% of our class, I found myself finding my own few seconds of rest.  My legs wouldn't even work.  I couldn't even raise one leg up to the riser to step up onto it.  And the squats?  Really?  Man oh man, I am sooorrreeee today.  Probably the most sore I've been in many, many years.  And that's good...right?

I have made a dedicated effort to get myself to the gym.  And keep myself there.  Let's just say that consistency is not my middle name.  I was going to yoga quite often but have eased up on it a bit....there are actually a few yoga poses that worsen my lower back pain rather than help it and I need to get that all figured out.  I've been doing dumbell and barbell curls, flying arm sorts of deals designed to work the forearms, shoulders and shoulders, tricep pull downs, chest pull downs, sit ups and other core benders until my middle-aged flab doesn't know which end is up.  And then upstairs to the treadmill.  Thirty minutes of racewalking interspersed with intervals of running -- all the while adjusting the incline up and down, the pace up and down.  That burns fat, you know.....the intervals.....not letting your body's metabolism settle in to one pace.  And I don't have a lot of fat to burn.  Just a drop or six around my midsection.  I'm not sure if you call it a jelly roll or a muffin top.  But clearly, it is some sort of pastry that doesn't need to be sitting on my store shelf.

I've been eating much better at home.  And in restaurants.  Better choices.  Better decisions.  Tons of delicious salads filled with fruits and vegetables like apples, watermelon, asparagus, carrots, peppers and grapes.   It has really been a nice change.  And I feel much better.  It seems like when I start doing one thing that is good for me, that it makes it a little easier to do others.  But getting started, and staying the course, is a challenge for many of us.  My weight was 128 pounds from 8th grade all of the way into my mid-20s.  Then it inched up to around 140 pounds where it stayed for years.  And then I burgeoned up past the 150's up to 162 pounds when I said that was enough.  No way this is going to happen.  That's when this whole gym thing started.  I had been paying the monthly membership for four years now.  But I'd been famously NOT at the gym which is complete silliness.  Not going and still paying for it is asinine.  I'm now down to 154 pounds.  It needs to stay there.  The pastry shelf in the middle is still there but looks much better.  And a little tiny baby buddha belly is cute, right?  And feels better.  And I'm happy with that.  I'll be excited to see what my blood pressure and cholesterol numbers look like next week at my semi-annual blood work checkup. 

So, whether I go back to Boot Camp or not, I'm not sure.  I wouldn't call it fun.  I didn't really "enjoy" it.  I am so not the guy that pushes himself beyond his limits.  I just don't have that competitive spirit or edge about me.  But when personal trainer turned drill sergeant yells at me that "You don't want to go home saying to yourself that you could have worked out harder!"  what am I supposed to do?  Clearly, he doesn't know me. 

The Testing of Peace

Isn't peace always being tested?  Mine is.  I have this stainless steel peace necklace around my neck.  It's a reminder.  Constantly.  Of my humanity and frailty. 

But I think it is time to take it off.  I feel less peaceful today than in a very long time.  And the peace symbol seems to be quite ironic.  It almost mocks me.  I have one on the tattooed on the back of my calf too.  I always said that I would always work toward peace.  But today, I'm not so sure. 

My CEO Supports Same-Sex Marriage

In case you hadn't heard, there continues to be a big old fight among our nation's lawmakers and citizens regarding whether the gays and lesbians of the nation should have the same marriage rights as everyone else or not.  Yes sir, I'm surprised too.  I looked at the calendar.  And it says 2012.  And it says that we've elected a black guy to be our President.  But it doesn't say anything about same-sex marriage.  You'd think we're back in Birmingham in 1955, quite frankly.

But there continues to be a growing sentiment among those who are rich and famous putting forth their voice of support for those of us who yet have to achieve the same rights as everyone else.  And corporations!  Yes, corporate support is on the rise too.  Plenty of companies have discovered the value of honesty and equality -- and they've put their money where their mouth is and made a full-fledged support for same-sex marriage.

In the state of Washington (I can see it from my window.....so there, Sarah Palin.....), Referendum 74 is on the November ballot.  The citizens -- the commoners! -- of the state will decide whether same-sex marriage in Washington state gets to move forward or not.  Can you imagine your neighbors and people you live around actually being permitted to decide the case of equal rights?  Only here in the greatest nation on earth.  R74 needs to be APPROVED.  If you "approve" of same-sex marriage, you need to "approve" R74.  That's their slogan.

And I couldn't be more proud of the company I work for.  My CEO and good friend Brad has stepped up to the plate with a few others and put their names behind the referendum.  They want it to pass.  They believe in the inherent value of equality for their customers and employees.  Brad gets it.  Clearly.  I admire him, I look up to not only his leadership skills but his human being skills.  He's a great man.  And I told him so just the other day.  I couldn't be more happy to be working where I do.  Check out the above link and article. Here's the verbiage: 


Senior leadership at Alaska Air Group and Alaska Airlines have announced their support for Washington United for Marriage and the campaign to Approve Referendum 74, joining a growing number of corporate leaders and businesses who understand the fundamental fairness of the bipartisan marriage law.
 
For Alaska Air Group and Alaska Airlines president Brad Tilden (pictured left in article link above) and his wife, Danielle, it comes down to doing the right thing. “Marriage equality is the right and fair thing to do in and for our state,” said Tilden, “From a business perspective, we risk losing qualified employees and applicants to other states which have adopted marriage equality statutes. Danielle and I are proud to support this initiative and are hopeful it will take our state to a new and more equitable place.”

Joining Tilden and his wife, is Glenn Johnson (pictured right in the article link above) and his partner Mike, who have been together for 15 years. Johnson, a 30-year Alaska Group veteran and president of Horizon Air, said, “[My partner] Mike and I have been in a committed relationship for 15 years; we take our responsibilities as a married couple to each other, to our community and to our workplace very seriously. Approving marriage equality is simply about creating strong families, like ours who live, work and love side by side with
every other family in America.”

Joining the two senior leaders in supporting the effort is Keith Loveless, general counsel of Alaska Airlines and Alaska Air Group. “I’m proud to live in a state where the legislature and governor have acted to legalize same-sex marriage,” said Loveless. “Passage of R 74 is important for customers and employees of Alaska Airlines. And it’s important to me.”

Namaste? Like Hell.

Namaste?  Like hell.  I've been a yoga guy for a few years now.  And I've just recently twisted the arm of my partner to join me.  Believe me, world peace would have been easier to accomplish.  But he's a good sport.  Well, truth be told, I just wore him down over time and he gave in. 

If you've practiced yoga before, you'll know full well how difficult it can be at times to maintain focus.  To not look at the clock on the wall.  To find the stamina it indeed takes to finish out the hour class.  To put your body into yet one more pose that seemingly tries its best to put something out of joint and remind you of exactly how old you really are.  But that's all a part of the practice of yoga.  Breath control.  Centering.  Balancing.  Developing stamina that perhaps you don't have at this particular point in your life.  It is quite a workout. 

Yesterday I headed over to an atypical gym for me.  I needed to go at a different hour of the day and found a 4:30pm starting time.  With an instructor that I was not familiar with.  I was the first one in the room.  We ended up with maybe 20 folks or so when instructor Tiffany Lee came in, turned out the lights, and began her class.  She put on her audio headset microphone, started her zen-ish music and we crossed our legs on our mats, brought our hands to heart center, and closed our eyes.  Tiffany Lee placed flameless candles in front of each one of our mats.  "Wow, this might be sort of cool," I was thinking. 

And then she started talking.  Let's just say that English is not her first language.  Which is fine.  Except that I couldn't really understand her very well.  Sometimes at all.  I had to open my eyes and peek at her through the dark classroom.  I had to try and figure out what she had just said and mimic her pose.   There was no way I could keep my eyes closed and actually understand what she was asking us to do.  I was already distracted.  And the beads of sweat began to drip.  And drip.  (Did I mention the word drip?) 

And the poses.  Sweet baby jesus.  I know, I know....I've done yoga before.  Nothing should have caught me off guard.  But each instructor does it completely differently.  Tiffany Lee apparently enjoys the lengthy holding of poses.  And torture.  She enjoys torture.  My knees ached.  I had to sit down.   My lower back just couldn't keep up.  And I had to sit down.  Again and again I found myself sitting.  Waiting to restart at the next pose.  Then, Tiffany Lee cuddles right up next to me, doing her little pose perfectly.  Beautifully, actually.  I think she totally got off on putting her beautiful little yoga body next to my struggling middle-aged ass.  She brought me a block to use -- blocks enable certain poses to be done with a bit more ease.  No one has ever brought me a block before.  And then the questioning -- "How are you all doing?," she kept on asking.  I guarantee you she didn't want me to answer that truthfully.  At least not out loud in the middle of class, anyway. 

So, at 5:10pm -- 40 minutes after class began -- I did something that I've never done before.  I rolled up my mat, gathered my belongings, and left the room.  Irritated.  Dripping sweat in spite of the fact that I had spent half of my class sitting on my mat in complete embarrassment. 

And as I departed?  Tiffany Lee said to me "Thank you for coming, sir."  But you see, she was wearing that headset that projects her voice throughout the room.  The entire damned room heard her wish me a lovely evening.  And with that, I was gone. 

Waning Days of Summer

As is the usual rhetoric about this time of year and others like it, I find myself thinking "I can't believe that it is the end of summer already."  Why is it that time appears to travel more quickly as adults than as children?  It has been a very busy summer.  Far more coordinating of schedules than I care for, no camping once again, no visits to Boise to see my family, and less time at the beach than I'd like.  But the good as well -- Bear Week in Provincetown with a house full of friends, just a small handful of our favorite summer concerts in the park, and a few mornings of coffee on the patio watching the sun rise. 

My work schedule has been crap.  The last three or so months I have ended up with only part of the trips that I actually ask for.  The remaining trips are assigned to me as a result of my general, default, sort of requests.  The trips at the Portland base are a changing!  We have tons of three and four-day trips typically involving Hawaii layovers and typically getting home later (me no likey).  We have very few turns left here, and just a handful of two-day trips.  All of my favorite trips are now taken by senior bidders to me.  The airline industry is, indeed, a freaky entity.  Changing.  Evolving.  Never the same.  I guess if I wanted the same old thing from day to day, I'd be sitting in an office answering telephones and responding to emails Monday through Friday from 8am-5pm.  Right? 

I've been hard at it at the gym lately.  That is one great thing I've done for myself this summer.  I've been doing yoga, the treadmill, and lifting a few sets of weights.  I've been working on my core and abs.  I've been stretching, twisting, bending.  It does feel so good to be in an environment with people who are actually doing something, something positive, for themselves.  And I've even twisted the arm of my partner to join me in yoga for his very first time ever.  And that has been years of arm twisting, believe me. 

I've only been to our clothing-optional beaches a few times this summer (deep sigh).  I created this map years ago to highlight them.  I was first taken to a nude beach in the summer of 1998.  I was absolutely horrified that anyone would possibly think that I could take off my clothes in front of anyone and wander around.   After all, as you'll recall, I'm simply not that kind of boy!  But, honestly, it happened in 1998.  And I haven't looked back.  Our beaches are both on the mighty Columbia River.  And one of them still, at the middle of August, has very high water that precludes beach goers from using the normal paths which are still under water.  Crazy.  We had one of the driest winters on record.  But we had one of the wettest springs on record.  But the scenery at the beaches and throughout the Pacific Northwest is amazing.  And so, I go.  Not as often as I'd like to, but I try. 

I've found myself being irritated far more often than I'd like.  Things set me off easily, I have zero tolerance for stupidity and silliness, and I'm finding it difficult to sit for very long without my mind wandering to politics, hateful people, my iPhone or iPad, the Internet, or my continuing struggles with toothpaste being left all over the lid.  I'm not sure if this is a product of growing older or if I have unresolved issues in my life that need tending to.  And I've even thought that my coffee in the morning doesn't do well by me -- I'm down to just a single cup many days and even that seems to add to the frustrations.  As much as I take advantage of the many technology pieces we have available to us today, I'm just as much upset with having it available.  I'm a trees and water and wind and dirt and sand and skies sort of person.  And I'm not getting enough of it. 

Semi-Annual Post to Tell You I'm Alive

Apparently, this is my semi-annual post for the Spirit of Saint Lewis.  I'm not dead.  Clearly, my goal to spend less time on the internet has been achieved.  Lord. 

Things have been fine, all going well.  We've just returned from our fourth annual trip to Provincetown, Massachusetts.  For Bear Week.  Grrrr.  Thousands of fuzzy men from around the world were in P-Town last week for Bear Week.  It's always a lot of fun to visit with friends from around the country.  Eight of us stay in a large rented house right in the heart of town.  Easy for walking and shopping and enjoying all of the many activities that Bear Week presents.  We left there yesterday morning on a ferry to Boston loaded down with more than 500 Bears and their luggage.  Suffice it to say, that it was quite the experience.  And now we're home, exhausted, and even a little depressed because we miss our friends.  We're picking up Mason in a bit from the place that he boards at while we're gone.  And the gym -- must get to the gym today. 

And speaking of the gym, I've been quite faithful after taking an extended hiatus.  I was very ashamed of myself internally for being such a strong person and, yet, not being able find the wherewithal to actually get my ass to 24 Hour Fitness.  There has been no excuse.  I simply had not been going.  But I'm back on the horse now and enjoying it.  The human motivation, or lack thereof, still causes me to think what a crazy and wishy-washy people we are. 

I've had an undocumented goal over the past year or so to spend less time on the internet.  And, obviously, from the lack of posts here, I've achieved that to some degree.  I'm still active on Facebook -- but less than in the past.  I need balance.  I need to focus outward more....to the sky and trees and water.  Things that make me happy.  The internet is so addicting.  And leads to such a waste of time if not harnessed. 

We are completing a refinance of our condominium after many, many hoops and pieces of paperwork to make it happen.  I'm thankful.  And happy.  The summer included Bear Week which I've already talked about ..... but not much more than that.  Although we do try to attend as many of Portland's free summer concerts in the parks as possible.  There are concerts every single night of the week in a wide variety of parks during July and August.  This will be our 15th summer of making that a tradition.  We take a picnic, the pooch, and our lawn chairs and drinks and enjoy the summer evenings.  So that's it.  Nothing earth shattering.  Just normal.  Oh, listen to me using the word normal.  Please. 

The Beach

This will be my 15th summer at the beach.  The beach.  The clothing-optional beach, that is.  We have two of them -- in fact, we had the nation's very first one.  Here's a map that I created a few years ago.   And, may I say, that in 1998 when I made my first visit, I was scared to death.  Petrified is more like it.  Suffice it to say that those feelings have passed away.

It's always a little game each year.  The first time.  The first day.  Is the (Columbia River) water too high?  Last year the water was so high, for so long, that I actually had to wade through several feet of water holding my sand chair and backpack up above my head while traversing the Columbia River waters.  This year, we apparently haven't had quite as much water.  The path is already dry.

And you just never know what you'll see, hear, or find out there.  Some days, you see people you know.  Other times, a bunch of doggies.  Sometimes a whole pile of younger people scared to death to ditch their panties so they flounce around in their $100 designer swim suits.  Sometimes families with kids.  Or just a man and wife.  It's all over the map.  I've seen bald eagles dive for fish right in front of my face.  I've watched giant ocean-going ships pass by on their way from the Port of Portland to/from the Pacific Ocean.  I've been scared to death more than once by little tiny black and green snakes and rabbits.

I've been hit on.  I've heard people talk about being released from jail.  I've heard conversations about being kicked out of the house.....or school.  I've listened while a guy ventured on about his tale of being kicked out of "every bar in Portland....except for one......nobody likes me in this town."  Oh brother.  I've watched plenty of people smoke dope.  And the alcohol flows freely most times.  I had a pretty young kid ask me if I wanted to meet his dog.  Well, you don't have to ask me twice!  Of course I do.  And while he was introducing me to a cute little Bichon-Poodle mix, he proceeded to ask me if I wanted to see his vagina.  Pardon me?  Your vagina?  Yes, he said.  I've had a tattoo of a vagina put on my penis.  By golly, he sure had.  "Because I like both men and women," he tells me.  This is the same guy that had been kicked out of house and school, by the way.

I've overheard plenty of conversations about current affairs, politics, the latest gadgets, iPhones and iPads, cars, the long drive to and from the beach, the cops who patrol the parking lots like flies, and music.  Music.  You see, a Billy Ocean song came on.  And the guy yells to his buddy, "Hey, turn that off....that's a song for old guys.  My dad would like that."  I about decked him.  And then there is the fairly clear sign "End of the Nude Beach" that delineates the marker past which point one must cover up their bits.  And tits.

I like to go early.  And I like to go during the week.  Weekends are terrible.  The 27 mile drive is packed with families in minivans headed out to "the family section" of the beach.  People double park their cars.  Traffic comes to a standstill.  And the roadways are dotted with bicyclists vying for space on the concrete.  I like the quiet of weekday mornings.  I've been the first one out there more than once.  And I've been the only one more than once.  I go early, I leave early.  I like to walk up and down the river's edge.  Sometimes I massage the muscle in my feet on a rock or log.  And I pick up rocks and carry them around.  I wonder how old they are, how they got on that particular beach, and where they've been in their lives.  Sometimes I do a few easy yoga stretches which always feel amazing.  I've got a sand chair that has been with me for years.  And I usually take a peanut butter sandwich.  Or some fruit.  And water.  Always water.  I like to chat with people and stare.  At the river, the airplanes coming and going into the Portland airport.  And the hawks and eagles circling overhead.

It's a part of my life that I don't typically advertise.  I simply say that I'm going to "The Beach" and leave it at that.  No need for embellishment.  But if pressed, I'm not afraid to say where I'm headed.  Some folks say, "That's cool."  And others can't even imagine being in public without their clothing.  I remember those feelings and days.  They're gone now.

It Could Happen to You

You never know about tomorrow.  In fact, you don't even know about today.  Tragedy strikes whenever it wants to.  This could happen to you.  Stand up and fight.  Be heard.