I'M BAAAAAaaaacccckkkkk .... with Jason Mraz.

In my dreams.

But I am back from the Delaware shore. And I threw my back out in the process of unloading the car after a nearly picture-perfect week at the beach. Sigh.

All the news that's fit to print mostly has to do with Wingnuts, Freepers, Teabaggers and Birthers gettin' their knickers in a twist over the proposed healthcare reform legislation (Obama Death Panels passing sentence on everyone over the age of 30, etc.) WTF? I say leave the Death Panels where they are now, at the insurance companies which routinely make life or death decisions and deny people all kinds of treatment. Assholes.

Rather than joining that fray, I found this little item on Andy Towle's site. I happen to be in love with Jason Mraz and his cute little hat and his cute little bod and his cute little voice and his cute little ass.

Take a look at this and see if you don't agree with me... for a "straight guy" he sure is pretty gay-friendly.

Down the Shore - 2009

We're heading back down to our old haunt, Rehoboth Beach Delaware, for our annual outing. This year we are officially four, with various and sundried drive-by couch-surfers who'll be crashing with us throughout the week.

Here we are:



Just kidding. This is an old snap of the beach patrol in Dewey, the next beach town south of Rehoboth.

Not that I've been very good about posting lately but I'll probably be even worse between now and August 8th, when we return.

Stay out of trouble while your father and I are away and we'll bring you a nice, big box of Dolle's Salt Water Taffy and a stuffed bear from one of the boardwalk arcades.

And keep out of the liquor cabinet.

Love,

Mom

Viscious Queens & Gastric Bypasses

I had a lovely time in Rehoboth this past weekend. The hotel was full of nearly 400 viscious queens sober, friendly LGBTs from Maine to Virginia and westward to Illinois. They all hardly noticed my bad eye, sloppy jeans, flabby ass and sagging tits inner beauty, which glows brighter with every passing decade year.

Sunday afternoon finally sadly arrived and it was time to bid a fond go fuck yourselves farewell to my loving soulmates in recovery.

60 minutes later I was at my sisters house in Newark, Delaware, sponging a free meal out of her and my brother-in-law.

After mooching some leftovers "for later" I headed home to my own bed. Thank God. I did have a nice time, and my hotel room was faboo (I had an oceanfront room), but I do miss my nice, ultra-firm mattress when I travel.

Monday was a "no-stress" day for me which involved little more than a meeting, shopping and napping.

Tuesday was busy, although I was still off work. I had an appointment with Dr. Diabetes up at Robert Wood Johnson Hopsital in New Brunswick. I was armed with all the articles I'd been saving for the last six weeks about treatments for diabetes. He was over an hour late to see me. it turned out that all of his other patients had ALSO come armed for their visits and they were all demanding changes in their treatments.

"Look," I said to him, "I'm going to be 60 years old this summer. With any luck I'll have another 25 or 30 years... and I do NOT want to spend them, as so many members of my family did, blind and limbless in wheelchairs parked in state run institutional hellholes. If there's a snowballs chance in hell that having gastric bypass will help me avoid that, SIGN ME UP!"

He smiled and said that I was an ideal candidate and that he would have no problem whatsoever going to bat for me with the insurance goons, provided, however (I've been around lawyers too long), that I get my cardiologist to agree (that my heart can stand the strain of surgery). He added that it was likely that I would lose 50-75 pounds, that I would be able to go totally off my diabetes medications, that my cholesterol would drop like a rock, that I'd feel better, that there'd be certain other intangible (and tangible) benefits and that he wholeheartedly advocated me having it done.

I was floored. Needless to say I called my cardio guy's office as soon as I got home (gotta program all these guys into my cellphone!). He's out sick. WHAT? A DOCTOR GETS SICK? THE NERVE. But his nurse assured me that he'd have no problem going along with this because of the added benefits it would give my heart (less stress, lower cholesterol, etc.).

So, this gastric bypass is starting to look like a "win-win" situation for me.

Now I just have to a) find a surgical group that performs this kind of surgery and b) get the insurance company to agree to cough up for it.

Oh? Is that all?

We're Off On the Road to Judea....

Big Mel Brooks fan here, hence the Subject line today. It's a lyric from a throwaway number in Mel's "History of the World" when the gang escapes from Rome and takes off for the Holy Land.

And today, I'm off on the road to my own, personal Holy Land for the weekend. For others of my ilk (young, tall, dark and ruggedly handsome), that would be Provincetown or Key West or Fire Island. For me, it's Rehoboth Beach, Delaware (motto "The Summer Capital!" because it's the closest shore resort to D.C.).

Yes, it's time for the annual LGBT "Roundup" for recovering drunks, druggies, foodies, spendies, co-dependies, adult children and Gawd only knows what else. As some of you might recall, I had a great time there last year and had been looking forward to going again all year. That was before I got hideously mangled in the bathtub back in early January, though. I'm sure those vacuous, superficial queens, sober or not, will take one look at me and immediately vomit in the lobby plants. Not that I have a tendency to project the wreckage of the future or anything.

Anyway, at the very least I'll have a nice dinner tonight at my favorite restaurant in Rehoboth, the Blue Moon. And I guess I'll enjoy either Bingo or the movie after the big Meeting tonight.

And it'll be nice to see old friends again. Lots of them. And to sit in on the workshops all day tomorrow. And then there's the banquet tomorrow night, with another Big Meeting and countdown, followed by disco dancing until 2:00 a.m. ('cause without drug inducements, we can't stay up later than that these days).

And there'll be another wonderful speaker meeting Sunday morning, along with a great buffet breakfast, followed by a powerful closing ceremony which includes a group recitation of the Serenity Prayer (amazing when said aloud by over 400 people).

Okay, so maybe it won't be so bad after all. Maybe I'll even have a great time.

I'm nothing, if not an optimist!

I'll be out of touch for the next few days, so have a great extended weekend everyone!

Friday? Already?

I can feel the excitement mounting. A week from today I'll be driving south to Rehoboth Beach, Delaware for the annual "Roundup."

A roundup is (usually) a weekend get-together in some resort town of several hundred like-minded people in recovery (in our case, LGBT people). There'll be workshops and games and hanging out and reconnecting with old friends from all over and making new friends who'll be there for the first time.

Last year we had nearly 400 people at the Rehoboth Roundup. That's quite a crowd for a beachfront hotel on the east coast... in the middle of February. Needless to say, nobody comes for the sunbathing or to frolic in the surf.

Last year I got to three roundups; the Rehoboth one in February, the 1st ever New Jersey roundup in September and the Philadelphia roundup in October. For my money, Rehoboth is the best of them all (I haven't gotten to any of the truly humongous roundups. I understand the one in Key West is... well, it's Key West without the booze).

I just made my dinner reservation for next Friday night at The Blue Moon restaurant. I made it "for two" on the outside chance that some guy actually would be willing to have dinner with me.

I don't talk much about dating because I haven't been on a date since 1999 (a blind date which was a catastrophe). Prior to that I hadn't really dated since the 70's. But I'd like to change that. There is one guy who is a regular at these things whom I'd like to ask out. We'll see.

Rather than dwelling on what a miserable week it's been, politically speaking, I'd rather look to the good times ahead.

And if and when the time comes that we have President McCain and Vice-President Huckabee???

I'll kill myself.

But I'll worry about that then.

Have a lovely weekend everybody. I intend to have one.

A Family I Chose.

Every Saturday night, when I'm home, I drive about 45 miles to a 12-Step meeting (gay) near Doylestown, PA. I was first taken to this meeting years ago by a friend in recovery who, himself, no longer goes.

As often happens with these things, it took me awhile to start to feel comfortable there, but then I started to get to know the people, and now I've come to love and care about most of them.

Last Saturday night one of the old-timers there, Mr. X, celebrated 40 years of continuous sobriety. His partner, Mr. Y, threw him a big bash and all the other members of this particular meeting brought food for the event. I had a brought a sponsee with me who is struggling to stay sober. I thought doing a little "service" would help him to forget his own problems, just for a while at any rate. I wasn't wrong. He's a landscape architect by trade but like most of us he has "the gay gene" when it comes to table arrangements and room decoration. I turned him loose on the place and he had a field day. We got there around 6:00 p.m. and things started to really percolate around 7:00 p.m.

By 7:00 there were probably 50-60 people at the dozen or so large round tables set up in the vestibule of the local Unitarian Church we had kidnapped for the evening (truth be told, we have our regular meeting downstairs on "non-event" nights). By 7:30 the crowd had swelled to well over a hundred and so we started to file into the church proper for the main event of the evening. A 12-Step Meeting with our Anniversary Boy as the only speaker.

I was honored to have been asked to read one of our "Opening Statements of Purpose" which generally precede a good 12-Step Meeting and as I looked out over the crowd I was suddenly overwhelmed by feelings of gratitude and humility. Gratitude for my sobriety and for the overwhelming extent of my non-biological family, humility to think that only 9 and a half years ago I was a falling down drunk without a friend in the world (well, damn few, God love 'em).

Mr. X was wonderful. He has a long and illustrious association with recovery, within the gay community, in and around the Philadelphia area. Hell, he had gotten sober before I even came out! He was going to meetings in Philly when I was just starting to venture into the gay scene there in the early 70's.

After the meeting had ended and we were cleaning up the debris of the "eatin' portion of the meeting, a gentleman who looked slightly familiar came up to me and asked me if I remembered him. Luckily, I did. I had met him years before at a gay meeting in Rehoboth, DE. His partner of many years had recently died and although he knew Mr. X and Mr. Y he didn't know too many other people at this shindig, so he was delighted to see a familiar, friendly face.

Like a lot of people in recovery I started out life with a less than ideal family but in recovery I have found wealth beyond measure by gathering around me a family of like-minded people whom I can genuinely love and trust.

I guess you could call them

A Family I Chose.

Schools' Out Forever

Alice Cooper hit the nail right on the head.

Tomorrow morning, at 8:30 (ish) a.m., I'll be hitting the road for Cape Cod. I have to stop in EnWhyCee to pick up my college roommate and oldest, OLDEST, dearest friend. Then we get to make the six hour trek out to the easternmost point in Massachusetts for a week of sun and fun!

I'm really looking forward to it.

Our hosts, the Baltimoreans (Baltimorons?) are heading up there today to make sure the house is aired out and that everything is in it's place, prior to the arrival of the Royal Principessas.

Last year we had a blast. The high point was the half day we spent aboard the Portuguese Princess on a whale-watching trip out into the ocean off Provincetown. We could've sworn that the whales had been trained. They came right up to the side of the ship and put on quite a show for us for the better part of an hour. They were magnificent beasts and clearly enjoyed showing off for the mammals on the boat.

I'm not sure we'll be able to top that this year, but we really go more for each other's company than for the "sightseeing", even though we do manage to get some of that done, too.

We're only going for a week this year, which is probably about the right amount of time for a vacation to Cape Cod. Don't get me wrong, I do like the place, but I have other places to visit and people to see this year.

A week from tomorrow I'll return my friend to New York and head on down to Jersey for the night. Next Sunday morning I'll get up and drive another 3 hours SOUTH to the Delaware shore to spend a few days with my sister and her family. They have a beach house in a very nice location, between the resort towns of Dewey Beach and Rehoboth.

After 3 days of that I'll head BACK to New Jersey for yet another night and then, finally, head out to the very easternmost point of the North Fork of Long Island to spend a few days in the weekend home of friends of mine from New York.

Ergo sum, this my final post for awhile. I may or may not squeeze one in a week from tomorrow or possibly on the following Wednesday, but there are no guarantees.

And feel free to shoot me if I ever complain about being unloved again.

Adios, Amigos & Amigas!

Geek Squad Sucks

I hope somebody from Geek Squad googles this and gets embarrassed. They should be embarrassed. They've had my computer for a week and a half and done absolutely nothing with it.

I "dropped by" Best Buy Sunday afternoon to see what was up. They'd had it a whole week at that point. They told me that I was probably going to exceed the 9 gigabyte backup limit, so I told 'em to 86 (nix) the backup and to just diagnose the damn thing.

Then I visited the Mega-LCD HDTV department and drooled over the latest 1080p sets and then went home to my computerless apartment.

It's now Wednesday morning and I've heard nothing. How hard can it be to determine if it's a software glitch (most likely) or a hardware problem?

How busy are these people?

Meanwhile, I'm neglecting the important things in life, such as my blog. It's hard to find time during my workday to do it without feeling as though I'm stealing from my employer.

I'm also neglecting that all-important porno-download time.

There is some upside to it. I cleaned the lower level of the computer desk. It was loaded with dust bunnies and extraneous cables which hadn't been used in years. It actually looks tidy down there now.

There's no point in them getting it magically fixed today. The earliest I can get it now is tomorrow night, after work. I have a commitment tonight (another speaking engagement at a 12-Step meeting).

And there's no point in getting it this coming weekend, either. I'm going to Baltimore to visit friends. We're going to see the Washington Gay Men's Chorus production of "The Wizard of Oz" (which I'm sure my friend Bev will want a detailed report about when I get back) Saturday night.

Plans for summer vacation are coming along nicely. We're going to do a week on Cape Cod the 2nd week of July. That'll be with my friends in Baltimore and one other friend from New York. I won't even slow down on the drive home from that. I'll keep heading south, straight (well, "directly") to Rehoboth Beach (whence I recently was for that Roundup I talked about a couple of weeks back) to spend the first part of the week with my sister and her crew in a beach house that they're renting, after which I'll check into a gay bordello, er, b&b for the remainder of the week, which will round out my two week summer fling very nicely.

Thus is my life. And a very nice life it is, too.

Now if I could just get my damned computer back....

========================================

Follow-up. 1 hour later.

They called, of course. It's not hardware. The only solution is to re-install Windows. I told them I'd come collect it tomorrow night. Sometime in the next week I'll back up the C: drive myself and re-install everything.

Or, maybe I'll just buy a new C: drive (like 500Gbytes) and do a fresh install on it.

Ch..ch..ch..changes

I made some modifications to the template. I hope you don't mind them but if you do, tough titties. I finally made the typeface larger. The old typeface was too small for my tastes but I was too lazy to spend five minutes power-programming my template settings until today.

On a lighter note, they're finally burying Anna Nichole, live. Apparently it's quite a side-show, being stage-managed by a secret cabal within the government to distract the masses from the real issues of the day. Such as who is Dannielynn's father? Personally, I think it was Daniel. Yes, I said it. I think that Dannielynn was fathered by Anna Nichole's deceased son, Daniel. And yes, I do believe that she was just that sick.

For the Weekend:

I'm going to my first "Civil Unionization" tomorrow in New Jersey. Old, dear, friends of mine are tying the civil knot and I can't wait to be there for it. I've already put forth (see: October 31, 2006 entry) my opinions regarding marriage and government's place, or lack of it, in it. But if, God forbid, anything should ever happen to either one of them, the other will have the full force of the law, within New Jersey, behind him, in terms of making the sorts of decisions we all would only want our closest loved one(s) to make.

After that I'm off to the wilds of Pennsylvania for an evening of celebration at a 12-Step Group that I belong to, which celebrates it's annual anniversary with good food and good speakers.

Finally, on Sunday, I'm toying with the idea of accepting an invitation to brunch in Manhattan with some friends of mine. It's a tempting thought, although I'm never wild about schlepping into Manhattan during "off-hours" (i.e., outside of work). But I don't have to make that decision just yet. I can chew on it until it gets painful, then make up my mind to just shut up and do it.

Sometimes, I should just shut up and do it. Like all those guys in Rehoboth. I should've just shut up and did 'em.

I think my friends would've approved of that.

But no matter what I do or don't do, I'm really looking forward to hanging around with people I love all weekend!

Isn't that nice?

Rehoboth - Day Three (ABOUT FRIGGIN' TIME)

So I woke up bright and early on Sunday, having fallen asleep by midnight Saturday night, alone and lonely in my bed by the sea.

I watched some early Sunday morning TV (infomercials, History Channel "All Nazi Germany - All The Time" rehashes of WWII, stuff like that), then decided to pull myself together for our final morning together as a group. There was to be a big group breakfast in the ballroom, from 9:00 until 10:00, a farewell address by a visitor from Texas from 10:00 til 11:00 and then a special meeting of the organizing committee to elect officers for NEXT year's event.

I had only registered for two nights stay and thought it odd, as I walked down the hall, to see "express checkout bills" tucked under a number of other guest rooms. But I just thought they'd neglected me and didn't worry about it.

I found another likely bunch to breakfast with, all sitting together at a table "down in front at ringside". They waved me over with much enthusiasm, and who was I to refuse?? I sat next to the cutest guy at the table, a dark-haired, blue-eyed beauty named "Bob." We started flirting immediately. We flirted all through breakfast. Something started to ring slightly odd with Bob, though, and with all the other guests at that particular table. Eventually, just before the guest speaker started at 10:00, it sort of came out that Bob, and the others, were all residents of a halfway house down at the beach. DAMN! Where were the oceanside halfway houses when I was trying get sober???!!!

Anyway, there went Bob. Even if I wanted to, I couldn't. There are certain "rules" in our fairly organizationless 12-Step programs, one of which is "no dating in the first year of sobriety." Bob, unfortunately, still hadn't even officially started his first year. It would be some time before Bob was "on the market" for real.

The speaker kicked ass, though. She was Tex-Mex from San Antonio. She had a rip-roaring story of drinking and drugging, a fairly horrific bottom and then a marvelous recovery full of miracles and gratitude. She'd even "discovered" she was gay in sobriety, had found herself a girlfriend who lives in Tampa/St. Pete and, at the end of this school year (she teaches), is moving to Florida so they can pursue their dreams together.

It was inspiring. It was magical. It's looking pretty doubtful that that kind of miracle is in MY foreseeable future!

After the meeting broke up I realized that something was amiss as I saw people heading out to leave the premises, so I wandered down to the front desk where the nice lady behind it explained that, despite any misapprehension I might have to the contrary, I was not leaving until the next day.

Well, nobody tells THIS alcoholic when he's leaving and when he's not. I informed her that there must be a glitch in the system and yes I was leaving. She disappeared into the back to "speak with the manager." She reappeared in less than a minute and I was all checked out. I went back upstairs to get my luggage. As I passed the ballroom, one last time, I saw a pair of lovely eyes staring at me. So I stared right back and wandered right over.

We said "hi." We yakked aimlessly for a minute or two. We kissed gently. He gave me his phone number and whispered, "you always have a place to stay when you come down", for he is a full-time resident of Rehoboth, and we parted.

OKAY! THIS IS A START!!!

I'm not going to rush into anything. I'm not going to "force" anything. I will call him, this weekend, it having been two weeks since we saw each other. And we shall see what we shall see.

And now you know why I didn't rush into publishing this. I wanted to make sure I wasn't making most of it up, by allowing the memories to calm down in my mind.

I'll keep you posted...