28 April 2013
I love this picture...I think it should be titled "Perseverance." It reminds me of all those times I've stubbornly hung onto something - an ideal, a favorite piece of clothing I've outgrown, a relationship - despite the obvious futility of doing so.
I'm back from my short birthday trip to Arizona. I had a good time and am glad I went. I'm sorry I had to come home but truth is, I missed Winston. When I woke up Friday morning I had placed a pillow next to me sometime in the night, obviously to feel as if Winston was cuddled up next to me.
I'm unfortunately not feeling up to blogging about the trip. I feel like I'm barely holding onto my sanity. I don't want to go into details; I guess my birthday week is really over and reality has crashed over me.
Hope everyone is well - BEHR HUGS
21 April 2013
What starts, you may be asking yourself after reading the title of this post and - if you're breathing - checking out the incredibly hot beach daddy. Well let me tell you.
This starts my "birthday week." Now, I normally don't advertise my birthday because I generally don't care for the attention. I may be an ENFJ but I'm an odd ENFJ. I'm making an exception this year because it's a milestone birthday.
I'll be 50 on Friday.
As of this writing, it doesn't bother me. Oh it mystifies me somewhat, but overall I'm okay with my age. Maybe it's because I don't feel my age necessarily. There are times in my head I think I'm still in my 20s. Maybe that's why I've been dating 20-something year olds for the past 8 years.
I think it helps that many people tell me I don't look my age. A female coworker was shocked to find out I'll be 50. She thought I was in my 30s! I told her fat people always look younger.
I'll be working Monday and Tuesday but taking the rest of the week off. I would have liked to have taken more time off but work has interfered. I'm still struggling on finding time to take some extended vacation. I considered going to England but for various reasons I dropped that idea. Mainly that I don't want to travel alone.
And perhaps that's the one downfall of this birthday; I realize how alone I am. Now, that doesn't necessarily mean I'm lonely, just...alone. I have many friends who I love dearly but not many of them can afford to go on a trip with me. And stingy old bastard that I am, I don't want to pay someone else's way. Yeah it's the selfishness in me. That's one train the horoscopes never tell you about Taureans.
I will be taking a mini-trip though. But first let me back up. Today, Sunday, I treated myself out to breakfast. I use to do this quite often but I have found that I need to follow a specific diet and that makes eating out a bit difficult. I can manage but prefer to just cook/eat at home. But today, I went out. Nothing special, French toast, but it was nice. I even went someplace I haven't been to in years.
I'll be working Monday and Tuesday. Tuesday night I'll be having dinner with my friend Roger (see Gay Days 2012) who will be in the area for work. Wednesday morning I'll seeing Rosalee for breakfast. I'm excited about these two meals...two really great people. And of course, with Rosalee it's ultra-special.
On Thursday I'll be driving to Phoenix, AZ and going to a couple of baseball games. I've been an Arizona Diamondbacks fan ever since they became an expansion team and fully supporting them despite changes in managers and team colors. I have no idea what I'll be doing during the day on Friday since the game is in the evening but I'm sure I'll find some trouble to get into. After all, Phoenix is the city of my birth and I thought it fitting to spend my day there.
The rest of the weekend will be spend driving home, spending time with family and prepping for the following work week. Not overly exciting but hey! at my age one can't have too much excitement. LOL
So there you have it...I'll be taking a mini-trip back to my birthplace to celebrate my milestone birthday. I've know of a couple of restaurants I want to visit (it's always about food with me). I'm looking forward to it and I'm getting a bit excited.
08 April 2013
05 April 2013
There's a saying that God only grants difficulties to those who can handle them. I'm beginning to think that's a line of bullshit.
I have a friend - Rosalee - who is one of THE most marvellous women I've ever met. Beautiful, talented, funny, spiritual, loving, kind...she brings light, joy, love to everyone she meets. A strong feminist Latina, she's had several volumes of poetry published, and yet she has a Marilyn Monroe-like sexuality; she flirts and acts coy but you just know she's in control.
I met Rosalee briefly at a cast party for a production of "Evita" she and a mutual friend were in way back in '86. We later reconnected at auditions for a theater production the following year. The theater was doing an "original" show to celebrate the city's centennial celebration. We basically took the audience through 100 years of entertainment. The first scene took place in a saloon with can-can girls and a woman being lowered on a swing while singing "She's only a bird...in a gilded cage...." Eventually a brawl breaks out and my good friend Roxie ends up on my shoulders, her skirt over my head, while she and Rosalee scratch fight as we whirled off stage. We had a fantastic time during that show and became fast friends. We spent spare time together and our shared interests of theater, poetry, vampires, and of course hot young men cemented our friendship. I became "Aunt Markus" to her 7th grader son who accepted me for my quirkiness because I was "mom's friend." She really raised him right; he's warm, caring, and accepting of all.
Rosalee, her best friend, and I used to hold hands and dance and attempt to seduce young men. We laughed and talked of stars and flowers and waves of peace flowing over the earth to heal it from the crap man had done to it. We were the hippies of the 80s & 90s.
One summer she and I went to the bar at Acapulco Mexican restaurant and proceeded to attempt to pick up on a hunky golden construction worker who actually seemed as interested in me as he was in her. We played games with men that way...if he wanted to play he had to play with us both.
One of the things I most love about Rosalee is if she likes you she's 100% supportive. She once got me to writing poetry again...and I joined her poetry group. We'd get together and share and offer feedback and discuss the imagery of our poems. I always thought my stuff was crap until I heard some of the others' stuff! Rosalee always assured me that I was brilliant. I liked to believe it. And of course, her poems were miracles...on the surface it sounded like she was talking of dead leaves on the lawn but in reality she was talking about the devastation of war. The woman is a genius.
In 2003-4 she was diagnosed with ovarian cancer. My beautiful, smart, funny, talented friend fought with all her might...and overcame. Her hair grew back, she grew strong and had a small part in a play.
In 2010 the cancer came back. Again she fought although this time she was scared. It took longer and took a toll on her but she won the fight. And she was rewarded with the long overdue birth of her grandson. She celebrated her 60th birthday - a much quieter affair than her 50th but still a celebration.
And now...my friend has been diagnosed with pancreatic cancer. I am devastated. It is not fair. Too much has been heaped on this wonderful woman.
She asked me to tell our theater friends and I've sent emails and posted private messages on Facebook; I'm not publicly announcing this horrendous news. I am trying to keep her spirits up with emails, calls, cards...and reminding her she's a grandma and we all need her.
I have asked far too many favors from my cyber friends and blog followers; but I must ask that you keep Rosalee in your prayers, thoughts, spiritual recitations...that whatever god, goddess, higher power, source of energy that you believe in be beseeched on her behalf for a healing. Her grandson is a mere 4 years old...he needs to grow up with this fantastic "Auntie Mame" type grandmother...so if you can see your way...please indulge me.
Here is a taste of Rosalee reading one of her poems.
I've started working on my own poem to honor Rosalee. I think she'd be proud.
04 April 2013
Today presented a couple of firsts for me. The past three days I've been in a training class to learn how to use a new software program. The class has been held in South Orange County...that's past Disneyland. DEEP behind the Orange Curtain. (For any SoCal locals, you know of what I speak.)
My friend, PC, changed job roles at the end of last year and this was the first time I've seen him. He works not too far from where my class was held. So the first "first" was seeing him after his transfer. He looks good, handsome, and as studly as ever. He bought my lunch - he's sweet that way - and we were able to catch up.
When deciding time and location to meet, he mentioned Chick-Fil-A and I mentioned El Pollo Loco. He was leaning toward Chick...I mentioned their anti-gay stance and he told me that they "love us" now. So that's where we had lunch.
This was another "first" for me...I have never eaten at a Chick-Fil-A. They're not that common where I live. I know there's one about 10 miles away but other than that, they're not that popular here.
PC ordered for us: spicy chicken sandwich with American cheese. I had pickles, he didn't. It comes with "criss cut" fries and a drink. I've heard folks rave about how it's the absolute BEST chicken sandwich on the face of the planet and that they could eat Chick-Fil-A every day.
To be honest....I've had better. The sandwich itself was rather...meh. The fries were less than that. And this "review" isn't based on politics. I just didn't think it was THE BEST chicken sandwich I've ever had.
The odd thing about my dining experience was I felt uncomfortable, as if I was doing something wrong. Silly, I know, since no one was paying attention to us (not even the ultra-hot daddy I was cruising). I admit the service was a cut above; a woman walked outside to where we were eating to see if we needed more sauce or drink refills. But that wasn't enough to make me a fan. And so in the final analysis, if the anti-gay Christian Right straights want Chick-Fil-A, they can have it.
I'll take an In-n-Out burger any day.