So Anyways

Mindy

I know it's weird to see a post on this all-but-abandoned blog, but there was a major event in our lives this weekend, and I feel the need to put my feelings about it down in writing. So, if anyone actually reads this, bear with me. It's being written solely as an expression of grief. I'm sure it'll be corny and some will say crazy, but I hope it will manage to express a little of how I really feel.

Hi Mindy.

It's been a couple of days since we sent you on your way, and I have to say, we really miss you. I just hope you and your bestest buddy in the whole world, Max, have found each other and are enjoying chasing each other around that big ol' backyard in the sky. I remember how much you guys used to really love chasing each other. I know you missed Max a lot when we had to send him on his way a few years ago. For most of your life, he was your constant companion and friend, and I can't even imagine how hard it must've been for you when he left us.

Well, this weekend, it was your turn to leave us. As much as I knew it was time for you to go, I wasn't as prepared for it as I thought I was going to be.

For a long time now, you've been showing your age, and it has been hard for us to watch. We hated seeing it happen to you - the hard time you had standing up, sometimes falling while just walking across the floor, being terribly sick occasionally to the point where you could barely hold your head up, being nearly totally deaf and blind. Even though you were bravely fighting through all of that, you still had some occasional sparks of life, and it didn't seem like you were quite ready to go. But then you got so sick on Friday. The vet said you had lost 4 pounds in less than a month (after losing about that much the month before), and you were so weak. It didn't seem fair to make you suffer like that any longer, even if we had been able to get your nausea under control.

So, we made the decision to let you go. As hard as it was to make that decision, I thought I was ready to do it. I didn't want to watch you failing a bit more day after day. It didn't seem that there were many days left on your downhill journey. If only you could have spoken and told us you were ready to go.

But you couldn't, and we had to try to make the right decision for you. Even though I was confident that we had made the best decision we could, I admit to having some doubts when my memories of our nearly 15 years together came crashing through my tears as I held you in the vet's office and you slipped away.

I remember when you were just a sparkle in my eye - I knew your mother's owner, and since Max was such a great dog, I was thrilled when Anna Belle's (your mom's) owner suggested that we let Max and Anna Belle spend a few days together. A few days later, we found out that you were on your way. You ended up being born on my sister's birthday, which just added to our excitement. I was allowed the "pick of the litter," and I picked you. When I came over to pick you out, you were the one who immediately came up to me to say hi. You always were a friendly girl!

It was pretty much love at first site. I didn't even consider any of your brothers or sisters. I chose you. It's hard to believe that was nearly 15 years ago! The years went by fast!

I won't say that I sometimes in those early days together, I wondered what I had gotten myself into. From the moment I put you in my car, all the way back to our house, you sat in the floorboard and screamed at the top of your little baby basset hound lungs. You kept it up for hours later after we got home. Even when I called my parents to tell them about the new addition to the family, you didn't stop crying. At least they were able to hear their new grandpuppy.

Your growing up years were a bit of a challenge, too. There was the time you stole my jeans off the top of my dresser, chewed a hole through them, got my wallet out of the pocket, destroyed it, ate a $20 bill, and forever dented my drivers' license with little puppy tooth marks. I really wasn't happy that day. But, I secretly laughed a little every time I had to pull that darn drivers' license out of my wallet after that. Even a cop noted that I "must have a puppy at home" when he asked for my license while writing me a speeding ticket.

Then there was the time you completely destroyed the brand-new irrigation system I had just installed in the backyard. Turns out, you just loved those little rubber tubes sticking up out of the ground. Didn't matter what I did to convince you otherwise, either. Even when, in desperation, I coated them with Tabasco sauce, you weren't deterred in the least. I soon learned to just give up on the idea of having an irrigation system.

It wasn't all bad, though. You were always the sweetest, most loving little girl I could imagine. You used to love to snuggle up in my lap (while you were still lap-dog size) and fall asleep with your nose tucked down between my arm and my body.

You were a clown, too. It was hilarious when I'd look outside and see you sitting like the queen of the world in the giant flower pot on the patio. Basset hounds just aren't supposed to sit in flower pots, but you seemed to enjoy it. Same with the time when I had taken you to my parents house and they saw you walking across their window sill. Basset hounds aren't supposed to be able to even fit on a window sill, but you somehow managed to. You were kind of cat-like back in those days.

As wild and crazy a puppy as you were, you mellowed out quite nicely with age. I think although you missed Max a lot when he left us, it seemed like you really came into your own as "an only dog." You seemed to enjoy all the attention that didn't have to be split anymore. Even though you enjoyed that brief period, you amazed me at how well you accepted Ed's cats when we moved into the new house. Not that you particularly liked the cats, but you were very tolerant of them.

You adjusted OK with the cats, but you definitely were not very happy the day we brought your new little brother, Toby, home for the first time. The look you gave me that day is forever burned in my memory. You were most definitely not a happy dog that day. But, even then, you managed to overcome your disappointment and actually started enjoying playing with Toby. Maybe not quite as much as he enjoyed it, but you did pretty well.

You were always a little skittish about some things. You absolutely hated the ironing board. (I'll be forever sorry for trying to get you over that irrational fear by making you sit on one.) You didn't like brooms much either. As you got older, you started to really hate thunderstorms (which was kind of a challenge here every August!). You got to the point where thunder and lightning and wind and rain caused you to get all pacey and to nearly hyperventilate.

As annoyed as I got some of those nights when you kept me from sleeping, I also used to feel a real sense of satisfaction when I could get you to calm down and fall asleep. Usually all it took was letting you up in the bed with me, with my hand gently patting your head or your tummy while you relaxed and finally fell asleep. I always enjoyed being your protector and the one you could count on to make things better.

I think that's why I took it so hard on Friday when I couldn't protect you any longer. You were counting on me. You were kind of scared and you knew something was happening that you didn't much like. And I couldn't do anything to make you feel better. When you stuck your nose down between my arm and my body again, looking for the comfort that you used to find when you were a baby, my heart broke just a little more.

I'm sorry I couldn't help you feel better and that I had to send you on a new journey, but I hope that at least you found Max and the two of you are happily rollicking around and annoying a new set of neighbors with your happy barking!

We miss you!

Odds 'n Ends

There have been some things on my mind lately (believe it or not), but I haven't found time to blog about them. Now that it's finally Friday afternoon, and I'm pretty much sick of working, I thought I'd jot down some of those things that have been floating around up in the ether I call a brain...

• Why is it that conservative, evangelical Christians all profess so much concern for Israel? I mean, they all say essentially the same thing - if you haven't accepted Jesus as your personal lord and savior, you're going to hell. So, why do they love Israel so much? I'm pretty sure the folks in Israel who have accepted Jesus are a serious minority. Why then is Pat "Wacked-Out" Robertson so concerned about Ariel Sharon giving up part of the Gaza Strip to the Palestinians?
• I agree with Mr. WhineandCheese that folks should take it easy on Mrs. Alito. Her little crying spell really did nothing but make me believe she loves her husband and was affected by the stress of the Senate confirmation ordeal. It seemed genuine to me.
• Mr. Alito himself, however, is a whole 'nuther can of worms. If he truly doesn't recall being involved with the Princeton alumni club opposing women and minorities, then I'm sure David Duke doesn't recall being a member of the KKK either. That's not the kind of thing you forget. If a Supreme Court nominee can't tell the truth, isn't there a problem?
• Randi Rhoades on Air America Radio is a hoot to listen to. She's a liberal female homosexual-tolerant New York Jew who won't take an ounce of abuse from a conservative. And, she usually makes really well thought out arguments. There's too much polarization in America today, and there's no better way to realize that than to listen to any political talk radio. But, even if it's polarizing, it's nice to have an antidote to Rush, Hannity, and all the other right-wing hosts.
• It's embarrassing to admit, but I've become a huge fan of one of the FoodTV personalities. I never thought I'd say that. But, Paula Dean is one of my new favorite celebrities in all of celebrity-dom. She's just a good ol' girl from Savannah, with a dog named Gertie, a passion for butter (she puts at least one stick of it in anything she cooks), a sense of humor, and a southern charm that is addictive. Oh, and she has some hot sons, too.

So anyways, it's time for the weekend. Have a good one!

Happy 2006!

Happy new year!  This has never been one of my favorite holidays - it just always seems like New Year's is a last-chance excuse to squeeze a little more "holiday" into the holiday season, but in reality, it's more like the day I have to start thinking about returning to life in the real world. Not that that's a bad thing, really. The holiday season is OK and the chance to relax is wonderful, but I couldn't deal with it for a lot longer.

This year seemed like a particularly active holiday season for us. Usually, at least for the past few years, we've not had a lot of things going on during the holidays. This year was different, though. My family descended upon us before Christmas, and the last one just left this morning. My parents and my sister were here for Christmas Eve and Christmas Day, and Ed (or as I like to call him, my own personal Martha Stewart) wowed us all with his culinary expertise, not to mention his holiday decorating touch. It was kind of cool to have a "real" family Christmas just like the old days, with lots of family and good food and festive decorations, and the really cool part was that I didn't have to do anything other than clean the kitchen. As I'm the only normal one in my family, the rest of them are hard to deal with for any length of time, but Ed manages to do it better than most.

After Christmas, my sister, my parents, my brother and his two kids, and I took off for a couple of days visiting "The Happiest Place on Earth," Disneyland. While it's a fairly happy place, I'm thinking the week between Christmas and New Year's it's really more like The Crowdedest Place on Earth. We had a great time there, but the shear mass of humanity was truly amazing. Waiting in line quickly became an accepted way of life. When it took us an hour after we entered the gate just to park the car, I knew it was going to be a rough couple of days. Add on another 20-minute wait for a shuttle from the parking area to the park entrance, another 20-minute wait to buy tickets, and another 20 minutes to go through security and actually get inside, and I was pretty much exhausted before we ever got started.

Just walking around inside Disneyland felt like being a part of a giant pin-ball machine - you pretty much just move through the park by bouncing off one collision with a stranger to another. It's almost a relief to get to an attraction and stand in a slow-moving line for the ride. Of course, every attraction had a line at least an hour long, and most were closer to two hours, all for 2-3 minutes of actual ride time. How we all managed to survive that without becoming raving homicidal maniacs is beyond me, but we did. That's probably thanks to the fact that my 9-year old nephew and 12-year old niece seemed to be having the time of their lives. Experiencing Disneyland even without kids is fun, but it's a lot more fun with kids who are seeing it for the first time. I was thankful to have the chance to bond even more with those two kids. They've had a rough year, so it was very cool to have a chance to share in some happy time with them.

Now it's time to move on to another new year. 2005 was a good year personally and I'm optimistic that 2006 will be just as good. I just hope that maybe it will be a year filled with less tragedy and devastation here and around the world than 2005 was.

I'm not big on making resolutions since I know I'm not capable of keeping most that I would make, but I try to at least start the year with a positive outlook and an intention of "doing better." One of those intentions (not resolutions!) this year is to be better about keeping this little blog going. It's all a matter of keeping perspective on my job and the workload that gets so overwhelming. If I can just manage to keep all those work-related stresses in check, maybe I'll be able to find the time and energy to post blog entries more often than once a month as I've been doing of late. Whether I'll be successful or not, we'll see. I'm gonna try, though.

So anyways, here's to a prosperous and happy 2006 to all of my blog buddies!

Boo!

Scared you, didn't I? 

I know it's scary when someone you thought was dead actually speaks. I'm not dead. I've just been a bad (very, very bad) boy and have all but abandoned my blog buddies.

I actually did survive my trip to France (spinning beds and all), and have been hard at work trying to get ready for the holidays, recover from the cold from hell, and get caught up at work, so there's been no time or energy for blogging.

I'll try to do better in 2006. In the meantime, "happy holidays" to all!

Who wants a Million Euros?

Unlike last night's wine-induced euphoria, tonight I'm suffering from France overkill.

As I mentioned in yesterday's post, the room was spinning when I went to bed. That spinning only intensified when I actually got in bed - to the point that I thought for sure I was on some kind of carnival ride from hell. I kept asking that they just stop the ride because I wanted off. Didn't happen, though.

I haven't experienced anything quite like that since my college days. Fortunately, after a few prayers to the porcelain god, the spinning finally slowed back down to a manageable level, and I was able to fall asleep. Thankfully I awoke this morning without too many bad effects, but I'm pretty sure I won't be looking for any opportunities to drink a lot of wine again anytime soon.

This morning, I tried to estimate the amount of wine I consumed last night - it started out with 2 glasses of mescal, followed by 2 glasses of a white wine from the Alsace region with dinner, then 2 glasses of a pinot noir, and finally by 2 glasses of a Beaujolais. Eight freakin' glasses of wine in one night. I'm not entirely sure, but I'm thinking that was the equivalent of at least one full bottle of wine. No freakin' wonder the room was spinning. I'm just lucky I didn't pass out on the street as I was walking back to the hotel. It's a good thing I didn't, otherwise one of the very many hot French guys around here might've had his way with me. And that just wouldn't be a good thing.

I swore to myself this morning that tonight would be a *very* early night, with nothing more than a "Royale with Cheese" and a Coke from McDonald's. Unfortunately, when you travel with other co-workers, you're kind of obliged to go to dinner with them, even on nights when your hosts aren't taking you out to dinner and even when you want nothing more than to have a quiet night in the hotel room. Trying to be a good traveling partner, I reluctantly agreed to go to dinner with my co-worker tonight. He wanted to go to an Irish bar near the hotel for pizza and beer, so needless to say, I couldn't escape alcohol this evening. I did manage to limit myself to two beers, though, so I think maybe the bed won't spin out of control tonight. I'm keeping my fingers crossed anyway.

I'm now sitting in the hotel room watching French TV, which is an experience in itself. Tonight's show of choice - "Qui Veut Gagner des Millions?", which is apparently France's version of "Who Wants to be a Millionaire?".

I don't understand word one of French, but I've had fun watching the show. The Regis is just like Regis is supposed to be - slightly older, gruff but lovable, and wearing a dark suit with a dark shirt and a dark tie. It's like a little piece of home.

The first contestant on tonight's show got up to the 12,000 Euro question, although he had to use all three lifelines to get there. It was kind of funny when he phoned a friend and the phone connection was so bad that the friend couldn't hear the question. Didn't matter. 30 seconds expired, and the guy didn't get an answer. No do-overs allowed just because the phone connection sucked. Anyway, with no help from his friend, the guy got the answer wrong. The funny thing is, I would've gotten it right since one of the four answers was "DeGaulle." That was the only one of the four names I recognized, so that's the one I chose as my "final answer." Turns out, I was right. I have no idea what the question was, but at least I got the answer right. Too bad for the guy, though. He lost 10,500 Euro. I did pretty well on the Fastest Finger as well - I managed to surmise that the question was "Put these TV shows in order according to when they debuted on French television, starting with the earliest." Two of the answers were "Friends" and "Dallas." I put "Dallas" ahead of "Friends," which was correct, but I didn't recognize the other two and didn't get them in the right order.

So that's it for today. Tomorrow is the big group dinner, which I have a feeling means even more drinking and an extremely late night. Wish me luck.

Tres Bien

Oy vey.

France is a great place. Forty eight hours ago, just before I embarked on my latest business trip, I would've told you that France was the absolute last place I wanted to be. Right now, though, I'd be hard pressed to name a place far from home that I'd rather be.

I was forced to cut a long Thanksgiving holiday weekend short by leaving on a 1-week business trip to Toulouse, France on Saturday. I *so* didn't want to go. I wanted to stay at home and enjoy a full four days of rest and relaxation like most Americans. Watching a little football on TV, maybe finishing a little holiday shopping, helping Ed to get the Christmas decorations up, and catching up on TiVo was all I wanted to do. That wasn't to be, though, as I had a trip scheduled and couldn't think of a good excuse to avoid it.

So, Saturday morning, with a pissy attitude and a sense of dread, I took off on what promised to be a long and tiring trip. It got off to the start I expected as well, since the trip was interrupted by a weather delay that resulted in missing a flight, my bags being lost, and a much-later-than-expected arrival. Despite my predisposition and the challenges thrown in my way, I managed to force myself into a somewhat positive attitude, though. I arrived safe and sound. My bags arrived not much later, and with a stiff upper lip, I ventured into the office this morning thinking I'd get through the week one way or another.

I managed to fight the initial urge to sleep as soon as I arrived, and thereby (I hope) managed to avoid the worst of any jet lag I might otherwise have felt. I ended up going to bed at a bit early, but still not unreasonable 9:30pm, which allowed me to get a good 8-9 hours of sleep, and I got through the day feeling remarkably well. At the end of the day, a French co-worker took me and my traveling companion to his home for dinner.

Let me just say, the French really know how to live.

We started out the evening with a pre-dinner apertif - I chose to sample a mescal - a wine that is apparently from either southern France or northern Spain (our host told us the history, but my mind being somewhat addled at this point couldn't say for sure where it came from). All I know is that it was very sweet and really quite tasty.

After a half-hour or so of conversation in his 250+ year old home, we adjourned to the dining room, where we were treated to what I now believe was a 27-course meal - first came another apertif, then a salad, then a main (fish) course, followed by the fromage (cheese) plate, then by a chocolate mousse dessert. All the while, we were treated to what seemed like an endless supply of wines - wines from the Bordeaux, Alsace, and Boujalais regions. I lost count after like the fifth glass, but it was all very good wine. The entire dinner itself lasted for a good 2 to 2 1/2 hours.

Of course, no French dinner is complete without bread. And cheese. And wine. And more wine. As I told our host, I think God had me born into the wrong country. I love bread, cheese, and wine so much that I could be (and probably should be) French. I forget how much I love it all until I come back to France and experience it all again. I really did lose count of how many glasses of wine I had tonight, but it really doesn't matter. I certainly am not feeling any pain, and I've decided all over again that I really do like France.

Now if I can just get through four more nights without catstrophe, I'll have it made.

Stay tuned. I hope/plan to provide some updates throughout the week. France, for all the good things about it, certainly provides a lot of fodder for a blog. It's like they do everything differently here just to spite us Americans - if I get a chance, I'll fill you in on some of those things as the week progresses. In the meantime, all I can really say is, vive le France! Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to try to find something solid to hold on to as the room just will not quit spinning.

Halloweenie or Curmudgeon?

Apparently I'm getting old.

I've grown to pretty much hate Halloween. I have nothing against kids dressing up in goofy little costumes and trick or treating. A lot of them are really cute, and I get a kick out of seeing them having fun. But, I get annoyed by grown ups coming to work dressed up like the kids they apparently still are.

If you're 45 years old, and you have bulges that protrude from practically any part of your body, you just so do not need to wear a Superman costume, with tights and a cape, to the office. Because even if you're proud of that bulge, the truth is, it looks nasty. If you're not 27 and ripped, then I don't want to see your bulge. Especially not at the office.

If you're 39 years old and you work in a professional office, you really shouldn't come to work wearing a big huge mouse head.

You and your friends probably shouldn't come to work dressed as Hot Lips Houlihan, Radar, and Hawkeye Pierce.

What you do inside your own home is up to you. Dress up to your heart's content. Have all the fun you want. Just don't come to work and make me see you that way.

I made a comment to that effect today to a co-worker, as we both stood there slack-jawed, staring at a "good girl gone bad" who was in actuality a 62-year old grandmother. Instead of agreeing with me, though, he called me a curmudgeon.

I kind of took offense at that. But before getting too worked up, I decided to look up the definition just to make sure I wasn't over reacting.

According to wordnet.princeton.edu, it means I'm "a crusty irascible cantankerous old person full of stubborn ideas."

That pretty much sums me up. You can just call me Crusty, for short.

Salutational Shenanigans

Sometimes the dumbest things tick me off.

Today, the dumb thing that's bugging me is e-mail etiquette (or the lack thereof). I'm not even talking about obvious things that everyone is more or less aware of  -  things like - don't "reply all" to a whole list of people just to say "thanks"  - or - don't e-mail 27MB attachments - or - don't forward stupid chain letters.

Instead, what's bugging me today is the greeting or closing people use in their e-mails. I work in an extremely e-mail-centric environment, where it seems like 90% of my daily communication (even with people who sit in the next cubicle over) is by e-mail. I get lots of e-mail everyday - enough to have grown to be very picky about how a proper e-mail message should be structured. (Talking here about work-related e-mails, not personal e-mails...)

Is it too much to ask for the sender to start the message with "Hello Todd" or "Hi Todd" or even just "Hi"? If you send me a message with no greeting at all, it just puts me in the wrong frame of mind immediately. It's not necessary to be overly formal, but it's kind of nice to be "greeted." It's no different from having someone walk up to you and just start giving commands or asking questions without saying "hi" first. It's just kind of rude and puts me in no mood to pay attention to the rest of the message.

If you can't bring yourself to say "Hello" or "Hi", at least start the message with my name:

         "Todd, would you please do x, y, and z for me?"

Just don't start the message with no greeting. That really annoys me.

Almost as annoying are those people who don't use a pleasant or respectful closing.

Most people around here close their e-mails either with "Regards"  or  "Best regards". Usually, unless I'm annoyed at the person I'm writing to, I close mine with Best regards. If I'm annoyed, I'll just close with a plain ol' Regards, thinking there's no point in wishing the "best" of anything.

Unlike how the lack of a greeting bothers me, though, the lack of a closing really doesn't bother me. If people just sign their name at the bottom of the message without any kind of closing, that's OK. It just means they're all business. Since it's at the end of the message, I guess it doesn't put me in the wrong frame of mind to read the message like the lack of a greeting does.

The thing about closings that really bugs me is when people abbreviate the closing. Like, they type "Rgds" instead of "Regards". Or "BR" for "Best regards". Is it really that freakin' much more time consuming to type 3 more letters to actually spell the word?

OK. I feel better now that that's off my chest, and just in time for the weekend!

Checking In

Just checking in to make sure this thing still works...

I managed to survive the Week Without Ed (barely), and even survived an incredibly fast and furious trip to New Jersey and New York at the end of Ed's week away, when I got to spend some time with his parents, see the house (and town) where he grew up, meet some of his best pre-Arizona friends, and see all the sites in New York City. Since getting back, though, life has been brutal - catching up at work and trying to fight off a nasty flu-like bug I apparently caught on the airplane or in NYC. There just hasn't been any time or motivation for blogging.

I'm trying a new tactic to free up time for blogging. I usually try to write blog entries either first thing in the morning when I get to work or at the end of the day just before I go home. Neither method seems to work, though, since I'm usually frazzled at both ends of the day. I'm trying the "eat lunch at my desk and blog" thing now to see if that works any better. We'll see.

So the trip to NJ/NY was fun. Ed left on Monday night, and I followed out on a Thursday-night red-eye flight, leaving Phoenix at 11pm and arriving in Newark at 6:30am. I expected to be totally zapped at the end of that flight, but I managed to not only stay awake all day on Friday, but to be somewhat sociable. I was kind of proud of myself. Of course, by the time it started getting dark that evening, I had trouble keeping my eyes open, but that's really not all that unusual, even under the best of circumstances. It was fun to see where Ed spent his formative years and to meet some of his friends from the Before Todd era. I have to say, the picture I have always had of New Jersey (refineries, toxic waste dumps, and graffiti-strewn 'hoods) was pretty well put to rest. It actually was nice - and green. As a southwest desert boy, I'm always impressed by how green and tree-filled other states are.

And, I think I know now why those states are so green. It rains there. Lots of freakin' rain. Although it was cloudy and misty the entire trip, our one day excursion to NYC could only be described as Noah's Ark rainy. I've never seen so much rain in my life. It didn't stop us, or even deter us much - we managed to see nearly everything we had planned to see - but we got totally drenched in the process. Because of concerns over terrorism on the subways while we were there, I tried to minimize the amount of stuff I took into the city with me. Which meant I had one pair of jeans with me - the pair I was wearing. After about an hour of trudging around the city in the torrential downpour, they were completely soaked, as was everything else I had brought, including my poor cell phone, which died as a result and had to be replaced. We took a short break mid-day back in the hotel room to recover from the drenching, and I tried to use the hotel room's hair dryer to dry them out. That wasn't terribly effective, so I spent the next ~24 hours walking around wet.

Now, I think I'm paying the price for that. I'm not sure what it is, but I've got something that's making life somewhat miserable. No symptoms other than a low-grade fever and a headache, so I'm not sure what I caught. I'm just hoping the terrorists didn't get me with some kind of biological weapon on the subway. I think the birds were all hiding from the rain, so I'm pretty sure it's not the bird flu. Whatever it is, though, I'm ready for it to go away so I can get back to my normal, chipper self.

So, it looks like this thing is actually working. Time to get back to work...

Home Alone

I'm a little worried. Ed's going away for the week, and while I'll be joining him on the East Coast next weekend, in the meantime, I'm going to be left to take care of the little family all by myself. I'm not sure I'm up to the task.

That kind of bothers me because I used to pride myself on just how independent I was. I lived alone for 10-12 years, and I always managed to take care of my affairs better than most people I knew who had families (or at least a wife at home) to help take up the slack.

But that ended over three years ago. Since then, Ed and I moved in together, and I quickly became the stereotypical "married" man who can't take care of himself. I don't buy the groceries. I don't cook. I barely remember how the microwave works. Ed takes care of all that, plus he takes care of the 4 kids all day every day while I'm off to work at the office. Now, they're all going to be dependent on me to take care of their needs, and that should make them very very worried.

Lucky for them, their food doesn't require cooking. I just have to remember how to pour it out of a bag and into their bowls.

Beyond all that, I'm thinking the house is going to seem really empty. I think I can figure out how the TiVo remote works, but I probably won't feel like watching anything. What fun is TV when you have to watch it all alone?

Wish me luck. It's gonna be a long week...

Vive le France!

I've always wondered why it is that Americans and French people seem to have such a love-hate relationship. We love their wine and their fine food (actually, I don't really like their food - work with me here), but we don't like their snobbish attitude.

French people don't like much of anything American, but they're appreciative of our help in liberating them a time or two.

I work with a lot of French people on a daily basis. In fact, my direct boss is in France, so I spend a lot of time communicating with my French buddies everyday. I actually have a lot of respect for them all and really have come to value their friendship over the years. I've kind of adopted France as my country away from home.

But, I have to say, one thing about France really annoys me. They get unbelievable amounts of vacation. As a matter of fact, they get so much of it, they're apparently running out of disposable income to spend on vacation.

This being August, all those French people I work with are out of the office, and most have been for the entire month. I freely admit that as much as I love these people, I get a bit annoyed that they're all off enjoying an entire month of uninterrupted relaxation while I'm continuing to lose a little bit more of my mind every stinkin' day taking care of all of the problems they're not even thinking about. So, right about now, I'm really not feeling all that sorry for them not being able to afford a soiree' on the Riviera this year. After all, I've taken one 7-day vacation in the past 5 years. And they wonder why I'm so grumpy everyday?

Even as grumpy as I may be, I can't hold it against them. Those French folks really know how to live.

A Little Bit of Nuttin

It's been so long since I've posted anything, I thought I should make a special effort to get something written today. The thing is, I'm totally out of practice and can't really get my brain to function in anything but a "gotta hurry up and get 277 more things done before the day ends today so I don't get my lazy ass fired" mode.

Not that work has been quite that crazy, but it has been much busier than I would prefer. And, being apparently incapable of accepting the fact that I'm behind and learning to live with it, I keep trying to catch up every day, even though I actually manage to fall further and further behind every day. So today, instead of stressing about it, I'm just giving up and trying to remember how to blog. So bear with me.

Here are a few of the things that have popped into my brain over the past few weeks that I thought might make good blog topics, but which never actually made it into written form:

• Those crazy (and, boy do I mean c-r-a-z-y) Fishers on Six Feet Under are one whacked bunch of people. My head was just spinning at how whacked they were in last night's episode, and I'm thinking they're not all gonna survive their collective mental illness. What's truly scary to me is that the writers of the show are even capable of dreaming up so many people who are so f-'d up.


• Those crazy Saudi's must be loving life right about now. With oil somewhere in the vicinity of $67 a barrel (I haven't bothered to notice the actual price today), they must be raking in about 1% of the entire planet's combined wealth just about every day. Doesn't take long at that rate for them to become actually pretty powerful. I'd love to buy a new sports car that uses premium gas, but I'm thinking that's not actually a very good idea at the moment. I think I need to buy a bike instead.


• Those crazy Republicans must be feeling kind of silly right about now. The president doesn't seem to me to be having a very successful start to his second term - his approval ratings are tanking, his big massive social security reform plan seems to be stuck in its tracks, his glorious effort to spread freedom and democracy around the world has ended up so far with a war that seems to be more and more out of control everyday, his "architect" has been exposed as either having committed a serious crime or come very close to it, and they've got a Senatorial candidate running in New York against Hillary who doesn't appear to be the brightest kid in the class. Of course, it's easy to sit on this side and list all the faults and shortcomings, but still. I keep shaking my head everyday thinking, "how did this guy get re-elected?" Unfortunately, I think that says just about as much about the Democrats as it does about the Republicans. But, being the Democrat I am, I prefer to focus on the other side's problems.

Anyway, that's about all I can muster for today. Tune in again tomorrow to see if I managed to actually think of anything interesting to write about.

Moral Dilemma

I'm facing a bit of a moral dilemma today. Two of my best buddies from high school (a guy and a girl) who eventually got married to each other and are now born-again conservative Christians living in the deep south, sent out an email today announcing that they have quit their jobs to go to "missionary school" (whatever that is exactly), and soliciting contributions from friends and family to support them while they attend this school.

I'm not so sure I want to contribute.

I really love these two (in a purely platonic sense, of course). I have a lot of fond memories from the old high school days of hanging out with them, doing crazy barely-legal things, dishing dirt about those of our other friends who weren't nearly as cool as us, and just generally growing up together. I'd do just about anything for them.

But, our lives went separate ways a few years after college - I obviously took the road "less traveled" - the yellow-brick road over the rainbow (or the dark road leading straight to eternal damnation according to some) as I came out of the closet and began living my life as a gay man. They, on the other hand, took the exact opposite road - that same road that George W. Bush and John Ashcroft took - and are now proud Red-Staters.

Since we live thousands of miles apart now, we never see each other anymore, but we do keep in touch and still I think mutually treasure our high school & college friendship. Despite my strongly held (pig-headed, even) beliefs, I don't tend to spout them much in casual conversation, even among friends. So, I don't think they have a clue just how deadset I am against supporting any kind of conservative, evangelical activity (especially a missionary activity whose ultimate goal is to convert even more of the world over to the intolerance and bigotry that I associate with right-wing Christianity).

I'd do just about anything for these two, but I think this is asking too much. I wish them well, and I'm sure they're becoming missionaries out of a true desire to "do good." They're probably going to think of me as a bad friend for ignoring their request for money, but I guess I'll just have to take that risk. I don't think sending them a check to make it easier for them to fight for things I abhor is something I'm willing to do. Even if it costs me a friendship.

Small, Medium, or Large?

Remember back in the day when if you ordered a fountain beverage at a baseball game concession stand, you could choose between three sizes - small, medium, and large? Those days are apparently gone.

We manage to go to a few Arizona Diamondback's baseball games every season, and that is an issue every time.

They sell soft drinks (for ridiculously inflated prices) in three sizes, indicated on the big menu boards as:

Soft Drinks:    $3.75       $4.50        $5.25.

Being the big dummy I am, I used to always assume the $4.50 version would be referred to as the "medium" size. Because it's the one in the middle.

Wrong.

Anytime I ordered a "medium", I'd be handed a tiny little cup and charged $3.75. After a couple of times of that happening, I figured out that the $4.50 version is actually the large size. The $5.25 behemoth is extra-large. The puny little $3.75 version is the medium. There is no small size.

OK. So I've finally got it. If I want the middle-sized cup, I have to order a "large". No sweat. It annoys me to no end that I have to call the middle-sized version of anything the "large," but hey, I'm adaptable. I can do this.

So, I walk up to the concession stand at the game this week repeating to myself under my breath, "order a large, order a large, order a large..." When I do, guess what happens? The lady asks me do I want the "large large" or the "small large?"

It's at moments like that when I think I'm probably going to die an early death caused by a stroke. I know the poor lady was just as confused as everyone else and was just trying to make sure she gave me what I really wanted, but at that very moment, my frustration level with the whole insane soda-size naming convention was so high that I temporarily lost my pleasant demeanor.

My temples throbbed with the anger I was feeling, and I don't even remember exactly what I said to her, but I'm sure it was sarcastic and caustic. Somehow I managed to get the $4.50 size that I wanted, but it really truly wasn't worth the stress. Next time I'm just ordering the "bomber" sized beer, dishing out the $9 that would cost, and being done with it. At least the alcohol would soothe my nerves.

100 Things

I realize this is supposed to be done when you first start writing a blog, not like 2 years later. But, I've always been on the slow side, and I've never believed that I could come up with 100 things about me that anyone would find even remotely interesting.

I'm still not sure about that, but I've managed to make a list anyway.

For what it's worth, here are 100 of the most fascinating things about my fascinating life. Enjoy!

1. I was 3 weeks old when John F. Kennedy was shot.
2. My mom saved the newspapers from that week and I still have them.
3. The town I was born in is best known as the place where the first atomic bomb was exploded.
4. Some people say that pretty much explains why I am the way I am.
5. I've been interested in politics since an early age.
6. The first political rally I ever attended was for George Wallace when he ran for president.
7. I was 1 year old at the time.
8. The only reason we attended was because it was a big deal to have a presidential candidate in our little town.
9. My mom said I started crying as soon as Governor Wallace started speaking and I didn't stop until he stopped talking.
10. I've never been to another political rally.
11. I watched the Senate's Watergate hearings more than most adults.
12. I was 11 years old at the time.
13. I still have an audio cassette tape I made of President Nixon's resignation speech.
14. The Nixon Library is the only presidential library I've ever been to.
15. Some day, I want to go to all of them.
16. My favorite president was Abraham Lincoln.
17. My second favorite was John Adams.
18. The current president is my 43rd favorite president of all time.
19. I've been to 14 other countries.
20. Three of those - Switzerland, Kenya, and Bahrain - don't count because I was only in the airport in each of them.
21. Ten of the rest were for work/business trips.
22. Only one, French Polynesia, was for fun.
23. Ed and I went there this year and spent time on the islands of Moorea and Bora Bora.
24. That was the best vacation ever.
25. Ed and I have lived together for 3 years.
26. We've been happily "together" for a lot longer than that.
27. We can't remember exactly how long it's been because we got off to a slow start.
28. I wasn't very comfortable with admitting that I was gay.
29. I put Ed through a lot in those early days.
30. I'm glad he put up with me then and that he still does.
31. I had the same girlfriend for 2 years of high school and the first 2 years of college.
32. Two weeks after we broke up, she was engaged to marry our high school band director.
33. I played the trombone in high school band.
34. We won the state's high school marching band contest my senior year.
35. I've never touched a trombone since.
36. I have one brother and one sister.
37. I'm the oldest.
38. Two of my grandparents, both of my parents, my brother, my sister, and my sister-in-law are all school teachers.
39. I'm an engineer.
40. I have no idea why I became an engineer.
41. I think it might be because a high school math teacher once told me that I didn't have the aptitude to become an engineer.
42. From that point on, I never made less than an "A" in a math or science class.
43. I really don't like math or science.
44. I love sports, but I'm a terrible athlete.
45. Baseball is my favorite sport.
46. One of the highlights of my life was attending Game 1 of the 2001 World Series.
47. That was 6 weeks after September 11.
48. I admit that I had a lump in my throat when they played the Star Spangled Banner that day.
49. That highlight was surpassed a few days later when we got to attend Game 7 of the World Series and our team won!
50. It was a come-from-behind victory in the bottom of the ninth inning.
51. I still get goose bumps when I think of that.
52. Another highlight of my life was getting a personal tour of the US Capitol building in Washington, DC.
53. We got to stand on the floor of the US House of Representatives just feet away from where the president delivers the State of the Union messages.
54. We also got to visit the Speaker of the House's private balcony overlooking the National Mall.
55. I want to visit Australia some day.
56. Eight months after graduating from high school, I was living and working on a tropical island in the middle of the Indian Ocean.
57. I spent eight months there.
58. My first job out of college was on a project team building radio equipment for a NASA mission to Mars.
59. The spacecraft crashed and burned just when it got to Mars.
60. It wasn't my fault. I swear.
61. Spare equipment we built for that project was used later on a subsequent mission to Mars.
62. That mission was successful.
63. Something I touched is actually sitting on the surface of Mars right now.
64. I've never worked on anything cool like that since.
65. I was laid off once.
66. I had just bought my first house 6 months earlier.
67. That was a scary time.
68. I went back to work for the same company 1 year later.
69. Eight years after that, I quit that job and went to work for a start-up company.
70. Two years later, the start-up company failed.
71. I've been back working for the original company ever since.
72. I really don't like changing jobs.
73. I've had a dog for all but one year of my life.
74. The first dog I got "on my own" was a basset hound named Max.
75. Max was my good buddy for 13 years.
76. Max's daughter is still living with us.
77. She's almost 14 years old.
78. We have 4 pets all together, 2 dogs and 2 cats.
79. The cats hate me.
80. I have no idea why.
81. The dogs like me.
82. I'm feeling old.
83. I took a FORTRAN programming class my first semester in college.
84. We actually wrote programs using punch cards.
85. I had never used a "personal" computer until my first job out of college.
86. That really wasn't as long ago as it sounds.
87. I remember getting our first color TV when I was just a tyke.
87. No wonder I feel old.
88. I don't have any tattoos.
89. Or piercings.
90. I wear glasses.
91. I tried wearing contact lenses, but they made me want to claw my eyes out.
92. I lost 30 pounds two years ago.
93. I gained 5 of them back.
94. I love to read.
95. I rarely find the time to read anymore.
96. I like all kinds of music.
97. I listen mostly to current pop, country, and "music from the 70's, 80's, and today."
98. My favorite TV shows are Scrubs, Lost, 24, and The West Wing.
99. I watch way too much TV.
100. I actually can't think of a single other thing to add to this list.

The Good Wife

Excerpts from an article entitled, "The Good Wife", in the May 13, 1955 edition of Housekeeping Monthly:

(Note to Ed: Pay attention!)

- Have dinner ready. Plan ahead, even the night before, to have a delicious meal ready, on time for his return. This is a way of letting him know that you have been thinking about him and are concerned about his needs. Most men are hungry when they come home and the prospect of a good meal (especially his favourite dish) is part of the warm welcome needed.

- Prepare yourself. Take 15 minutes to rest so you'll be refreshed when he arrives. Touch up your make-up, put a ribbon in your hair and be fresh-looking. He has just been with a  lot of work-weary people.

(This one's one of my favorites):

- Be a little gay and a little more interesting for him. His boring day may need a lift and one of your duties is to provide it for him.

- Over the cooler months of the year you should prepare and light a fire for him to unwind by. Your husband will feel he has reached a haven of rest and order, and it will give you a lift, too. After all, catering for his comfort will provide you with immense personal satisfaction.

- Make him comfortable. Have him lean back in a comfortable chair or have him lie down in the bedroom. Have a cool or warm drink ready for him.

- Arrange his pillow and offer to take off his shoes. Speak in a low, soothing and pleasant voice.

- Don't ask him questions about his actions or question his judgment or integrity. Remember, he is the master of the house and as such will always exercise his will with fairness and truthfulness. You have no right to question him.

- A good wife knows her place.

Now that we have that all cleared up, I should be home about 5 today, dear. Please have my dinner ready, have a drink ready for me, and by all means, be a little gay. :)

Hot Toddy

It's always easy to tell when I can't think of anything to write about - I either just don't write, or I write about the weather. Well, lucky for you, I decided to write this time. About the weather. Woo hoo! I know how excited that makes you.

The thing is, the weather in Phoenix, like in most places probably, is b-o-r-i-n-g most of the time. It's usually fairly dry, warm, and repetitive. And that's the case at this time of year as well - just intensely so. Intensely, insanely hot.

So far this week, the high temps have been in the 110-115 degree range and even the nighttime temperatures haven't been all that cool - usually in the high 80's to low 90's. One day this week, it was 93 degrees as I pulled in to work at 6:30am. You know it's gonna be a hot day when it's 93 degrees practically before the sun even comes up.

As usual, all that heat has resulted in some massive wildfires burning around the state - this year mostly in the desert regions surrounding the city. In fact, several people are out of the office this afternoon since they live in areas that are threatened by wildfires and they're expecting that they may have to evacuate at any moment.

I know that by living in Phoenix, you kind of lose the right to complain about the weather. I mean, everyone knows it's hot here and most of us who live here are doing so by choice. Complaining about the heat here is kind of like complaining about the rain in Seattle. If you don't like it, don't move here.

But still, it's just damn hot. It's really weird how hot it is - it's not like the oppressive heat and humidity combination that a lot of places get in the summer. At least when we sweat here, the sweat actually evaporates. The thing is, though, when it gets well over 110 degrees, it starts to actually hurt a little. I call it "face-melter" weather because it just feels like if you're out in it too long, your face is going to start melting and dripping off. That's never actually happened that I know of, but I swear it's a possibility when it gets so hot.

The one bright spot - men tend to wear less this time of year. And that can only be a good thing.

My "Starbucks" Name

Awhile back, I wrote a post about how difficult it can be to live with the name of "Todd." I had another experience this week (the same experience happens all the time) that reminded me why I hate my name sometimes.

I visited one of my favorite fast-food restaurants for lunch (their Pollo Bowls are yummy and even relatively healthy) yesterday and had what has unfortunately become the standard experience:

I order my Pollo Bowl, pay my money, and grit my teeth because I know what's coming next. They ask for my name. They like to avoid assigning numbers, apparently, so as to be a little more personal. Nothing wrong with that except for the fact that I can never manage to enunciate my name clearly enough for them to get it.

They always end up butchering it and then, when my order is ready, they yell out, "Tood (or Tom or Ted or the one I hate the worst, Tad), your order is ready!"

I don't know what it is, but the name "Todd" just doesn't carry well, especially when the ambient noise level is pretty high. It comes out sounding like "tah". It also probably doesn't help matters that the workers are generally not primarily English speakers, which makes the name sound even more confusing to them.

I've decided that I need to come up with my own "Starbucks" name. Grace, on Will and Grace, this season had a cup of Starbucks coffee with someone else's name written on it (I'll just say it was "Priscilla" for now since I can't remember exactly what it was). When questioned about why her Starbucks cup had the name "Priscilla" on it, Grace replied that "Priscilla" was her Starbucks' name. Like, it was cool to use a fake name at Starbucks.

While I don't think "Priscilla" is particularly appropriate in this case, I'm trying to decide what name I should use in the future to avoid the whole "Todd" aggravation. I have a friend who always uses the name "Kennedy" even though his real name is "Marty" (which isn't even hard to enunciate or difficult to hear), so that's out. I'm thinking maybe "Jason" will work. That's fairly easy to enunciate clearly and most guys named Jason are hot. So, I'd feel good about it.

Outed by iPod

I've never come out to my family. (I know, I know. There's really no excuse for that, so let the flogging begin.) It's not that I'm particularly worried about their reaction, but it's just never seemed like something that was necessary.

I'm sure they all "know" anyway. I'm a 41-year old, never-married, guy who hasn't had a girlfriend since college and is living with another guy. If that doesn't set off alarms in anyone's mind, I don't know what would.

So my sister was in town this weekend, and although I think she'd be the most understanding of everyone in the family, I've never wanted to have The Talk with her. I almost had to this weekend, though.

I started showing my new iPod to her, and she immediately wanted to check it out. She grabbed it out of my hands and said, "Oh cool! You can tell so much about a person from their iPod!" Uh-oh.

She started scrolling through the song list, and I kid you not, the first three songs (with shuffle mode turned on!) she heard were something from the original cast recording of Chicago, "Believe" by Cher, and "Dancing Queen" from the Priscilla, Queen of the Desert soundtrack.

Much to my surprise, she didn't say anything, although her eyes couldn't hide that momentary thought flittering through her head - "my big brother's a big homo and this just proves it."

I never knew that iPods had minds of their own, but I'm pretty sure mine does. Nothing else can explain why 3 gay anthems played before any of the other approximately 1270 normal songs.

Dancing Queen

Update:  Thanks to Scott-o-Rama for the graphic (which doesn't help with my disturbing mental image, by the way!)

The mental image of Queen Elizabeth, wearing the little white ear buds, rocking out with her new iPod is going to haunt me the rest of the day.

I do like the suggestions for her playlist - "Dancing Queen" and "Everybody Wants to Rule the World." 

I'm just hoping she doesn't download "Naughty Girl" by Beyonce. Watching the queen sing along to these lyrics would just not be pretty:

I'm feelin sexy
I wanna hear you say my name boy
If you can reach me
You can feel my burning flame

I'm feelin kind of n-a-s-t-y
I might just take you home with me
Baby the minute i feel your energy
Your vibe's just taken over me
Start feelin so crazy babe
I feel the funk coming over me
I don't know what's gotten into me
The rhythm's got me feelin so crazy babe

Tonight i'll be your naughty girl
I'm callin all my girls
We're gonna turn this party out
I know you want my body
Tonight i'll be your naughty girl
I'm callin all my girls

Buy High, Sell Low?

There's one thing that I truly suck at doing, and it worries me. OK, I suck at plenty of things, including hitting, throwing, or dribbling a ball of any kind, writing, and communicating effectively, but this particular skill is one that can have a serious impact on my future.

The skill? Predicting the stock market. Unfortunately, that's a skill that is seriously important for a lot of people anymore, especially considering that company-sponsored pension plans are well on their way to extinction and Social Security is in "crisis". Pretty much my entire retirement is in my hands. I can and do invest as much as I can in a 401(k) plan - for the most part, blindly putting money into a few index funds and crossing my fingers hoping that the money will grow like a weed.

But I've also made a few attempts over the years to invest some money in a few stocks just on my own. I've never put too much money into stocks, but I'd like to think that I could supplement my retirement by doing so. It's not working out all that well, though.

I had an opportunity a few years ago to invest in my company's stock at the IPO price. Since that occurred just before the tech bubble burst, I put as much money into the stock as I thought I could reasonably afford then sat back and expected to become a gazillionaire in a week or two.

Believe it or not, that never quite happened. As a matter of fact, by the time the mandatory holding period had ended, and I was free to actually sell or trade my shares, they were only worth a fraction of their original value. So, I breathed a heavy sigh and figured I'd just sit on the stock until it bounced back. It's never even come close to bouncing all the way back, but it has bounced around a few times at values high enough to make me consider selling, taking my money (and my tax write off), and doing something more sane with the money.

The only problem is that I can't ever figure out when the price is at a short-term peak value. I watch the stock price everyday, and I get excited when I see it move substantially up over some time period. I start thinking about selling it, I get this close to actually doing so, and then it plummets even faster than it went up. Once it begins to plummet, I lose all interest in selling since I then know that I'll be losing even more money than I would have had I sold it a few days earlier. I sit back again and swear that the next time it spikes, I'm selling no matter what.

The only problem is, I never do actually sell.

Probably someday when I'm 85 years old, I'll still be watching the stock price and still cursing myself out because I missed yet another opportunity to sell. The stock market is apparently not for indecisive people. Or is it? I really can't decide.

House of Cards

I'm officially old and grumpy, I guess, but I'm just absolutely sick of buying and sending greeting cards every few weeks. It's not that I don't love and cherish those that I'm sending the cards to, but I'm starting to really resent the obligation.

I really do hope that my dad will have a happy Father's Day this weekend, and I'm sure I'll do something to help ensure that he at least knows I'm thinking of him. I did the same for my mom last month for Mother's Day. And, I try to call the family on their birthdays. I don't mind that.

What I do mind, though, is this feeling that no matter what else I do, if I don't send a dumb card, I'm being a bad son/brother/whatever. It's not that my family gives me a big guilt trip about it (because I always send a card), but I'm just afraid what would happen if I ever missed sending one.

I'm beginning to have nightmares that this huge older woman with a fake smile and a wig, smelling as if she bathed in perfume, and wearing a Hallmark name tag will appear out of nowhere and haunt me for the rest of my life if I miss an opportunity/obligation to send a card. She'll remind me constantly that I should buy a card for this or that occasion, but I'll be able to tell that her fake sweet smile is just hiding her disdain for me and if I listen closely enough, I'll hear her cackling an evil laugh under her breath as she offers me a "gold star" to seal the card envelope with.

I know I'm probably being overly caustic, but I just don't think that greeting cards are worth all the hassle. It seems that I'm buying one every other week, and in the process I'm accomplishing absolutely nothing besides keeping Hallmark happy- well, that and keeping the old Hallmark woman/apparition out of my head. I guess that's worth something.

Home Again

We made it home on Saturday evening after what can only be described as a wonderful vacation that was too long in coming and too short for my tastes. I don't know exactly what it is, but there's something about a week on a tropical island in the middle of the South Pacific that is good for the soul.

While I don't exactly feel enthusiastic about re-joining the "real world" tomorrow (even with easing into it later today by starting to work through my accumulated work-related e-mails), my anxiety and stress levels are probably at an all-time low, so I'm hoping that will translate into a bit more bearable routine. Now, if only I could bottle this "c'est la vie" attitude and use just a little throughout the year when I really need it, I'd have it made.

Ed is planning to post a travelogue-type journal of our adventures, along with lots o' pretty pictures, on Whine & Cheese, so I'll limit my trip report to just a few highlights:

• After arriving at the Papeete international airport on the island of Tahiti, we are transferred by bus over to the "domestic" terminal to catch our inter-island transfer to our first destination - the island of Moorea. Imagine the surprise to a couple of Americans to find an airport "terminal" that is nothing more than an open-air hut (with a bar), no metal detectors, no one searching through luggage, no lines for security, and no crying babies. Standing there, awaiting our puddle-jumper flight to Moorea, enjoying a nice cold beer, feeling the warm tropical breeze, and smelling that faint but undeniable "island scent" of salt water with a hint of fragrancy from all of the tropical flowers, I could just feel all of the pent up stress flowing out of my body. That's a feeling I'll remember for a long, long time.
• After a first day that had both of our heads spinning with culture shock (and some sticker shock at just how much the trip was going to cost us for food and drink), sitting out on the deck of our beach bungalow that first evening and feeling the cool tropical breeze - a time when the remnants of stress from the pre-vacation days seemed to finally disappear for good.
• Being immersed in a multi-cultural environment, well outside of our normal American comfort zone - while there were plenty of Americans there, there were also lots of Europeans and Asians as well. Nearly everyone in the tourist industry speaks at least some English, so we had very little trouble communicating, but we also got quite used to hearing French and Tahitian phrases being uttered all around us. Generally, we'd be greeted first with "bon jour" and then "ia'orana" (Tahitian for "good day"), and finally, when it was obvious we were clueless mono-lingual Americans, we'd hear "good morning!". It really made me wish that I had taken the time sometime in my life to learn French, at least well enough to be able to carry on a simple, brief conversation in their language instead of expecting them to speak my language.
• Feeding the sharks and sting rays - we took an all-day excursion on our second day, with a group of about 20 other tourists, to feed sharks and sting rays in their "natural" environment. On the boat tour around the island, with our guide "Siki," a very colorful guy and a good example of what one would expect a native Tahitian to be, we got to see some of the most spectacular scenery probably anywhere on the planet. Seeing and feeding the sharks and rays was cool as well, but I got the feeling that while it was definitely in the animals' natural environment, the whole experience was a little less than natural since the sharks and rays know they're gonna be fed by masses of tourists if they show up at the same time and location everyday. As part of the tour, we enjoyed a barbecue picnic on a remote beach with some of the best food of the trip - grilled mahi mahi, fresh fruits, and a raw-fish concoction made of marlin marinated in citrus juices and coconut milk. It sounds disgusting, but it was great!
• Gael, the official videographer on the excursion - one of the sexiest men alive. Tall, blonde with long hair, French-speaking, with a gorgeously tan and lean body. It was worth the cost of the excursion just to get to oogle him for an entire day.
• Sitting out on the deck of our bungalow on Moorea after the sunset, listening to our iPod vacation mix on our portable speakers while sipping our new-found favorite drink - it's called "Tahiti Drink" and is a mixture of pineapple juice, orange juice, passionfruit juice, and is 10% alcohol. It comes in a 1-liter carton (like a milk carton), and the best part - it's cheap. Exotic drinks cost $12-$15 each at the hotel bar, but this stuff cost less than that for an entire evening's worth of mellow buzz.
• Experiencing daily life on the islands - especially on Bora Bora, we got to spend a lot of time just exploring the island and seeing the residents go about their daily lives. Amazingly enough, they manage to do so without a Home Depot or a Target or a McDonald's within thousands of miles.
• Eating lunch at one of the most charming little roadside "snack" restaurants you can imagine - the front porch of an island couple's home with a gorgeous view of the beach and ocean. They had lots of good-looking things on the menu, but Ben, the owner, politely encouraged us to just order pizza because he was too tired to make anything else. We obliged and had a very nice dinner and were thoroughly entertained by Ben and his wife, Robin and their 3 dogs.
• The hot, nearly naked, Polynesian boy dancer - on our first night on Bora Bora, we took in the hotel's buffet and Polynesian dance show. While the dance show was nothing spectacular in my opinion (besides the part where Ed was called out to the "stage" and taught to swivel his hips by one of the dancers), the highlight was an incredibly hot, lean, long-haired Polynesian guy who looked really good in nothing but a piece of cloth over his privates.
• Sitting on the deck of our bungalow on Bora Bora watching the most incredible display of stars I've ever seen - it was an exceptionally clear and moonless night, and the result was a night-time sky with more stars than I could ever imagine. With the Milky Way in the background, the sky almost seemed three dimensional - some stars seemingly close enough to touch and others just small faint specks.
• Looking out our bedroom window later that same night and seeing a huge, orange moon rising above another island near the horizon. We watched that, mesmerized, for a long time till we fell asleep.

I could go on and on with highlights, but this is so long I probably lost you by the second one. Needless to say, the islands worked their mythical magic on me and I'm already trying to figure out how we can swing another "trip of a lifetime" like this one.

Ah well...it's good to be home anyway.

Gone Fishin'

I'm gone fishin' - OK, not actually fishing, even though I actually used to love fishing but decided a few years ago that the thrill of catching an animal and watching it flail around in pain and horror while it gasped and died a slow death was not something I really felt good about - but I'm gone on vacation and I'm sure fish will be a big part of my life for the next few days. I'm hoping and expecting that we'll get to see lots of cool sea creatures swimming around the lagoon and I'm sure we'll probably even eat some of the damn things.

I've been a really really bad blog boy lately, and I'm gonna be really bad for a few more days during the vacation, but I'll be back and blogging again soon.

Woo Hoo! I can hear the cheers reverberating around blog land now!

Hell(o)

Just a quick post today to say hello. From hell. I'm caught in a week that I've known for some time was going to be the week from hell, so I've not got a lot (any) time to blog, but I thought I'd take a quick minute to dust the cobwebs off of So Anyways.

This week, I'm hosting a group of co-workers from around the world for a conference here at the mothership/company headquarters. In some ways, it's fun to do this because most of the people attending are people I've known for 10 years or more, and whom I've come to respect and like as friends, despite the fact that we live in opposite corners of the globe and I only see them on rare occasions like this one.

The preparations for the big group gathering are challenging and tiring, especially given that when my boss asked me to do this, he did so in practically the same breath in which he was handing me an increased day-to-day workload. So, I've been a bit frazzled and will be glad when the week is over!

Even with the challenges, I always think to myself how I should savor the fact that I work in such a global business. It's really pretty cool to see and work with people from Europe and Asia and other parts of the world. Even if we don't spend a lot of time talking about how America's leading the global "war on Terra" and how we're bringing Democracy and Freedom to them all, it's a good chance to gage their feelings anyway.

For the past couple of years, their reactions have been not quite as supportive as our president would have us believe. I'm thinking of opening the meeting tomorrow with a statement that "I didn't vote for him, so don't blame me!," but I guess that wouldn't be appropriate.

Anyway, now that the cobwebs are dusted off, time to return to the preparations for Todd's Global Summit 2005. Friday the 13th can't get here soon enough!

I'm 19 Minutes Late

First off, thanks to everyone who left comments on my last post! It's definitely good to know that I'm not always just typing into thin air and that people do sometimes actually read what I write!

This morning I was working my way through a fairly typical stressy morning with several big-ticket type things high on my list of priorities for the day and a couple of meetings to attend. I sat in both meetings trying to avoid actually physically rolling my eyes at every inane comment that I heard come out of someone's mouth, wishing that I could just escape the meeting and the huge waste of time so I could go work on the really important things I knew were waiting for me. I think I managed to avoid any actual physical eye rolling, although mentally, my eyes were practically spinning.

After the last meeting, I raced  back to my desk so I could start working on the day's big problems and what do I see on my computer screen as soon as I sit down? A "Reminder" notice, generated by our online calendar system, telling me that I was, as of that very moment, precisely 19 minutes overdue in filling out some survey that someone in a "support" department requested that I fill out. The survey was "due" at 10am, and by 10:19am, I still hadn't done it. That should be reason enough to fire me, I realize. But it does seem a little uptight for my tastes.

I know that the intention was good. Some other group that performed a service for me is just trying to gather feedback about how well they did their job. So they created this dumb little survey online that they asked me to fill out. I got the e-mail asking me to complete the survey yesterday, and I should have done it right away. But, as is practically always the case, I was struggling to get everything done that needed doing before the end of the day, and I blew off the survey.

I don't really mind the fact that someone valued my feedback. And I really don't mind that they wanted to remind me to do it. But, it caused my blood pressure to spike to get an automatically generated "notice" with such precision about just how late I was. I suppose whomever was responsible for that would prefer that I complete the survey on time and be 19 minutes late in answering my customer's questions.

It seems sometimes that we've got our priorities all screwed up around here.

He's Alive!

I've been a very bad boy for the past couple of weeks. I mentioned in a previous post that I was having problems with inspiration, but I didn't realize at the time just how deep that inspiration deficit was going to be. It seems that if I force myself to blog on a consistent basis, I do OK, but once I let myself slip just a little, I'm done for. It's kind of like the gym - force yourself to go regularly, and it's not that bad. Let yourself slide a couple of times, though, and it's hell getting back. I'm in that "it's hell getting back" phase now with blogging and the gym. But, I'll persevere. If you're still checking in here, thanks! Your patience is much appreciated!

In an effort to break back into the routine, I thought I'd throw out a few miscellaneous things that have been on my mind, but which I haven't spent the energy to think about in great detail:

• It sucks that Constantine is gone from American Idol. With him gone, my interest in the show is at an all-time low. Who's going to stare me down with eyes that could start a fire in my loins now?
  
  If Bo leaves, I may never watch again. The last thing we need is another cookie-cutter pop star. The two "rockers" were at least a breath of fresh air, despite the weird behavior they seem to elicit from Ms. Abdul.



• Scott Savol seems like kind of an OK guy, but the boy just can't sing. It was probably reasonable that he made the top 12, because he did sing some songs pretty well during the auditions. His voice and performance ability hasn't stood up to the demands of the competition since, though. It's a shame that he managed to beat out some more talented and just plain interesting folks like Anwar, Jessica, and Constantine.



• Just 4 hours left in Jack Bauer's 24-hour day from hell. I'm thinking this season, while still better than about 98% of everything on TV, this show is not quite up to the standards it set for itself in previous seasons. Little things are bugging me - like where the hell did the Secretary of Defense go? Shouldn't he be pretty involved still, considering that Air Force One was shot down, the president is teetering on the brink of death, the vice president is a doofus, and a frickin' nuclear bomb is about to be exploded by terrorists? He hasn't been seen or heard from in the last 4 or 5 hours, at least. If he's going to disappear, I wish he'd take his annoying daughter with.

• Laura Bush was pretty funny at the White House correspondents' dinner. Once. If I see or hear her routine again, though, I can't predict what will happen. It could be ugly and will probably involve my punching a hole through a wall.

OK, enough drivel for one post. Hopefully that will be enough to get my bloggin' groove on again...

Celebrities I Know

I've worked with a lot of celebrities over the years. Or more accurately, I've worked with a lot of people who share their name with really famous people:

Andy Williams
Dick Clark
Sheryl Crow
Tom Petty

I could almost form a band.

None of them are anything like their more famous namesakes, and they always seem to hate being introduced to new people. There's always some kind of joke or smart-ass comment involved, followed by an eyeroll and a sigh, like "how many frickin' more times in my life do I have to hear the same lame comment about how I don't look anything like Dick Clark (or Andy Williams or Sheryl Crow)?" Tom Petty gets really tired of being asked how the Heartbreakers are doing.

I've known them all so long that I tend to forget the celebrity link, but I'm reminded every time the introduction scene repeats itself. After watching that so many times, I'm a little more satisfied with my generic boring name.

Inspirational Black Hole

Ever have one of those days when absolutely nothing seems interesting or exciting or like something you want to work on or write about or even think about?

I've had one of those days every day this week so far. I get to work early in the morning and start in on the day with good intentions - read through my e-mail, prioritize my day's activities, and work through things one at a time so that at the end of the day, I can look back and think that at least I accomplished this or that today. But, regardless of how good my intentions are, I haven't yet managed to successfully implement my plans.

Instead, I find myself daydreaming and web surfing and doing practically anything else I can to avoid thinking or doing anything useful. Not only have I not been very productive on the work front this week, but I've not had a single good idea for a blog entry (which is probably painfully obvious to anyone who's reading this).

I could've written something about the Pope, but I really didn't care. I could write something about my cool new iPod, but that would just expose my ignorance about the subject. I could write about the upcoming vacation, but reading about people's vacation plans is probably almost as globally hated as looking at their pictures after the vacation. I could write about Anwar (Anwar Sadat, as I like to call him) being booted off American Idol instead of the one who deserved to go (Mr. Savol, in my humble opinion), but I don't really care about that either. Just as long as Constantine and Bo stick around for awhile.

Ho hum. I need some inspiration to strike.

My Pretty Little Sister

My parent's dog, Lucy, has been staying with us for the last few days while her owners are off galavanting around the state on vacation.

She's such a cool little dog, I really enjoy having her around. She drives our two dogs crazy, and that makes Ed's life more difficult since he's surrounded by all three dogs all day. But for me, who gets to avoid most of the craziness during the day, it's fun to have her around.

She's always happy and ready to play with anybody - one of her dog cousins, or one of her cat cousins, or one of the humans. That always seems a little strange since our two dogs are a bit on the lazy side - they're usually happiest when they're sleeping. Lucy likes to sleep too, but she'd really rather run around and do fun dog things than to sleep.

Even when she's sleeping, Lucy is pretty entertaining. She snores worse than most humans. Listening to her rattling the windows at night is really pretty funny. I suppose it could be annoying, but it doesn't bother me for some reason.

It's hard to look at her little scrunched up face and listen to her snorting and snoring and not just think she's the prettiest little sister ever.

(This isn't actually Lucy. Lucy is actually cuter, but this is pretty close.)

4 More Questions

Answers to Todd's questions:

1. From the standpoint of friendship, not of being a fan, with what celebrity would you like to be close, personal friends?

That's a surprisingly tough question to answer. Like most people, I suppose I fawn over celebrities a bit, but when it comes down to a question of which of them I'd actually like in real life, it gets hard to think of any. I think most of them would have egos much too large for my taste.

But one person has popped up on my radar screen lately that I think would be a lot of fun to hang out with and talk to. She's certainly not an A-list celebrity, but she's somewhat well known. Sarah Vowell shares a couple of my same passions, history and politics, and she has a wickedly funny sense of humor. We have her latest book, Assassination Vacation, on audio and it's a hoot to listen to. I could imagine many hours of interesting conversation and hysterical laughter with her around.

For a more A-list type of celebrity, I'd probably pick Melissa Etheridge. I've always liked her, but I didn't really realize just how well spoken and well centered she really is until I saw her on Dateline NBC awhile back. She strikes me as a pretty humble celebrity.

2. If you have a reasonably high self-esteem, when did you realize that you had it? If you don't, what would it take to achieve it?

My self esteem seems to follow a roller coaster path. There have been times in my life when it was not what it should have been, and other times when it was probably a little overly high. Probably the low point was when I first began to struggle with the fact that I might be gay and was struggling to deny it and to convince myself that it wasn't true. I beat myself up over that for quite awhile.

As I started to venture out of the closet a little bit and started to find other people just like me who were also gay but also normal in every other way, I began to accept myself and my sexuality and my self esteem took a much-needed bounce.

3. Describe one experience you've had that you would define as life-changing.

I've not had many truly life-changing experiences (thankfully!), but I think one experience stands out as having the most impact on the future course of my life. My first job out of college was working for a giant global corporation involved in government contracting. In a lot of ways, it was a dream job because I felt like I was at the center of activity in a very exciting field and my future seemed unbounded.

That all came crashing down one day as I sat in my bosses office while he told me I was being laid off. That happened at about the same time my self esteem was already ebbing because of the whole "am I gay?" thing, and so my self esteem took another big blow.

I managed to escape pretty much unscathed, as I found another job literally the next day. But, I learned a lot about myself and about the "real world" with that experience and I think the lessons have shaped my life ever since.

4. What's your favorite quotation and why?

It's kind of tie between two. Both of them reflect a philosophy I try to live by most of the time (this blog being the exception):

Better to remain silent and be thought a fool than to speak out and remove all doubt. 
                                                          - Abraham Lincoln

You can observe a lot just by watching.
                                                         - Yogi Berra

Four Questions

OK, I guess I'll give in. I'll answer the four questions that Ed asked Scott, and Scott tagged me to answer. I'm sure both of their answers will be more entertaining than mine, but I'm trying to play along.

Feel free to ask any other questions (all of you legions of loyal So Anyways readers). If you ask, I'll answer (or I'll invoke my constitutional right to avoid incriminating myself).

1). What is your favorite curse word and how do you use it most frequently?

I can't say that I have a favorite curse word. In fact, I really don't particularly care for curse words in general. That doesn't mean I don't use 'em occasionally, though. I got in a habit years ago of using the f-word in casual conversation, particularly as part of the phrase "what the f*&k?"

I do like Elliot's (on Scrubs) favorite curse word, though - frick. She seems to utter that quite often, and it cracks me up nearly every time. No idea why. I guess I have a weird sense of humor. I especially like when she gets really ballsy and says "frick on a stick!"
 
2). If Heaven exists, what would you like to hear God say when you arrive at the Pearly Gates?

Two words: "Good job!" 

I tend to put a lot of pressure on myself to do well, and it's amazing how much of a boost I get when someone in a position of authority or whom I respect tells me I've done a good job. It's nice just to know that someone noticed and appreciated the effort. If I can get a "good job!" on my way through the Pearly Gates, I'll be pretty satisfied.

3). Desert Island Scenario... which 1 CD, 1 Book, 1 Movie would you take with you?

Not to be overly analytical here, but the thing is, I'm assuming the whole point of being stranded on a desert island is that there really is no TV or radio to occupy my time. Which is probably because there's no electricity. Without electricity (or rechargeable batteries), I'm thinking it probably wouldn't matter which CD or movie I took with me because I wouldn't be able to do much with them, unless of course my engineering training could be put to good use (like Sayid on Lost) and I could find some way to rub sticks together or something to create electricity.

However, in the spirit of playing the game, I'll put the analytical aside and say that whatever they are, they'd have to be l-o-n-g because I'd get so freakin' sick of listening to or watching anything more than once or twice. Heck, I get sick of the music on my MP3 player after about 2 visits to the gym.

For the CD, I'd probably pick something like a 12-CD compilation of all of Bruce Springsteen's songs. For a movie, maybe Gone With the Wind.

My book choice would be easy: Carl Sandburg's 6-volume biography of Abraham Lincoln. That would keep me occupied for awhile.

4). Boxers, briefs, boxer briefs, or commando? If more than one style, please provide an estimated percentage wear (or not wear!) each type.

Boxer briefs about 98.5% of the time. The other 1.5% of the time, I'm not tellin'.

This Week

It seems like it's been kind of a difficult week.

I tried to avoid becoming too invested in the Terri Schiavo case and I've avoided saying much about it, mostly because it seemed to me that the one thing I would want if I were in her position - dignity - has been missing. Entertainment Tonight hyping your death night after night and Patricia Heaton and Marsha Clark commenting on it endlessly is just wrong.

If I were in Terri's situation, I don't know how my loved ones would handle it or what their ultimate decision would be. I almost don't even care, really. What I do care about, though, is that the situation should be handled with dignity and grace and that it shouldn't be allowed to consume 10 or 15 minutes of Mary Hart's time every night. I hope Terri can rest in peace now.

It came as kind of a shock that Johnny Cochran passed away this week. I didn't even realize he was sick. Not that I was a fan of his, but he definitely will be remembered long after his death.

Today, the world is watching as the Pope's long struggle is probably coming to an end. I'm not Catholic, and I certainly don't agree with a lot of the Pope's politics. But, I have to say, he has been a truly larger-than-life presence for a very long time. I remember when he came to Phoenix right after I moved here, in the late '80's. It was by far the biggest thing that ever happened in this city - even outranking the Superbowl we hosted one year.

I also recall one business trip I was on when, in the Charles DeGaulle airport in Paris, there were literally thousands of kids (teenagers), obviously from all over the world, all wearing the same t-shirts saying something about the "Pope-fest" they had attended with what was then a very energetic and hugely popular Pope. The man certainly had a charisma that allowed him to influence probably more people than any other single individual in modern history.

Watching his decline over the last few years with Parkinson's disease, and more recently with breathing problems and viral infections, has been difficult. More times than once, my thoughts have gone back to my own grandfather who struggled with Parkinson's disease for years before his death. I remember the minister at his funeral speaking eloquently about how Parkinson's disease had forced my grandfather "to dance with an unwanted partner," and how he had struggled to do so with dignity and courage. I can't help but think about that when I see the Pope so obviously struggling with his own "unwanted partner."

Finally, after thinking the week had been full enough of death, I stumbled upon another one. My favorite member of the McLaughlin Group, Eleanor Clift, lost her husband to cancer on Wednesday.

After all that's happened this week, I think I'll avoid complaining about whatever trivial thing I normally would be whining about.

Todd's Usage Whine #1

I've never posted about language usage that annoys me, which is really quite surprising since I hear and read examples of poor usage almo