soanyway

I joined a writers website a while back called Helium.  I have always been interested in creative writing and they have different categories.  I mainly stay in the "Reflections" and "Poetry" categories.  They provide a topic…and you write.  This article is in Reflections - the topic is For Children.  Hope you enjoy it.

I love children, they are so "themselves". They don’t pretend to be anyone else, well I know they pretend at some point of their development, but they are so honest. If they’re sad, you know it. If they’re mad, you know it. And my favorite of all, when they’re happy, you know it!

My niece, Taylor was going through a phase in her development where Sunday School had been teaching them about marriage and relationships. She knew mommies and daddies slept in the same bed and it was my guess that someone in her "wonderful" Bible Belt of a church told her that only mommies and daddies should share beds, "like that". I remember hearing how distressed she was that her "Aunt Jen" and "Uncle Mike" were sharing a bed.

Anyway, she was visiting one weekend and was over at my and my partner Ron’s house. We were cooking out on the patio, Taylor grabbed Ron’s hand and pulled him towards the bedroom door.

"Uncle Ron? Do you sleep in that bed?", she asked.

Not wanting to broach a subject that wasn’t approved by Mom and Dad, he said, "Well sometimes I do, but sometimes I sleep on the futon in the other bedroom". Taylor took that in and they went back out to the patio.

I went into the kitchen for something, Taylor grabbed my hand, pulling me towards my bedroom. I had already told my brother and my sister-in-law that I was going to be honest with answers about Ron and I. Unless it got, you know, "sexual".

She led me to the bedside and asked, "Uncle Hank, is this your bedroom?". I indicated that it was. "And does Uncle Ron sleep in here too?"

"Ummm, yes he sometimes does", I replied.

She narrowed her eyes and asked, "Are you and Uncle Ron married?"

Trying to hide my grin I said, "No Taylor, we’re not married."

She looked me soberly in the eyes and asked, "But, your KINDA married, right?"

"Well, yes, we’re KINDA married." I answered.

That seemed to satisfy her and she led me out of the room and into the kitchen.

She was four. She was able to plan this little detective work on her own. It’s funny how they begin to apply what they are taught EVERYWHERE, to situations that concern them. We never talked about it again. But now at thirteen, she just grins when her 4 year old sister, Kylie, begins asking questions along the same line.

I love my girls!

so anyway…

Martha was my first love. I was young, immature, a good kid struggling with “who I was”. Looking back, I see that I was attracted to Martha’s spirit…she was such a bright light. The first time I saw her, I knew I wanted to know her…I knew I wanted her as part of my life. I truly loved her, I was too insecure in myself to properly show it…in the time we “went together”…I never kissed her. I knew it bothered her…how could it not? I felt tremendous guilt that I couldn’t drum up the courage to do that.

She and I remained friends throughout high school, it was strange to see her with other guys. I had started seeing Julie by that time…and though I loved Julie, I never had that “first love” specialness. Julie was a “take the bull by the horns” girl - she taught me how to french kiss…we made out all the time. She taught me well…but she eventually dumped me for a guy, I think his name was Danny. My thinking was, I couldn’t bring myself to have sex…although I can’t be sure…maybe she realized that even though she loved me…it was a different kind of love. I know that she loved Danny…she had a real passion for him.

Anyway…MEMORY LANE, LOL. I started this post…to say, I’m meeting Martha today for “lunch”, maybe? It started out to be lunch…but Martha called and I’m meeting her at Sam’s Club. She has a noon appointment to look at photos she had made of her family…so I’ll get to see them…COOOOOL. It’s been many years since I’ve seen her…probably before she finished college. I tracked down her dad and she called me…it’ll be nice to see her.

I’ve had a long journey with relationships…and even though Martha was my first love…it was the purest kind of friendship sort of love. It bordered on romantic love…but it just never pushed me over. I’ve known since I was a boy that I was gay…before I knew what it was called…and I knew that it was beyond acceptable. I knew that it was something I should not reveal. Of all the relationships I’ve had…my only complete love has been with Ron. He’s the best person I know, a truly good man…I am fortunate we found one another.

so anyway…

I’ve been using some of the services provided at http://ideas.live.com and the newest thing I’m looking at is Windows Live Writer.  It allows me to create blog entries offline and publish them.  It also allows me to add rich content, so I’m going to try that now.

I am a fledgling digital artist and I’ve painted portraits of my dog, Dexter and my male cat George.

So, I’m gonna go back and find out what this does.  I’ll probably post another entry to test out other features.

so anyway…

Mom called, she was taking him to the clinic…

About an hour later, there was frantic ringing of the doorbell and knocking at the door.  I run to the door and there’s Eddie, my neighbor and Mom is standing next to him crying.  Eddie had seen her on the street and brought her up to the door.

She sat in the recliner in the den, sobbing…

    Mom:  "…and the doctor had to keep him…"  sob sob sob …"they’re going to have to surgery…" sob sob sob

She continues like this for a minute or so…

    Mom: "…he was soooo scaaared…ooooooh!…"

    Me:  "Ma, is he going to die?  What is it?  Cancer??"

    Mom:  "No, he’s going to be ok, he has kidney stones, but he was, (sniff) so (sniff) scared!"

    Me:  "Oh, okay, so he’s going to be fine, right?"

    Mom: "Yes"

It’s one of her three cats, "Mister" (the other two are "Little Man" and "Miss Molly", you know "traditional" cat names - sheesh!).  It’s a fucking cat!!  I have two cats myself, I love ‘em, but I"m not going to sob over kidney stones…I’d worry, but SHIT, he’s not going to die.

I’m appalled, I think it’s ridiculous to be this way about a sick cat and that’s going to recover…maybe if he was dying I’d feel differently.

Ugh!  I love my mother, but she’s a whack job when it comes to those freakin cats!

so anyway…

When I heard it the first time, it got on my nerves.  And I grew to hate it.  It begins as follows:

My life is brilliant.

My life is brilliant.
My love is pure.
I saw an angel.
Of that I’m sure.
She smiled at me on the subway.
She was with another man.
But I won’t lose no sleep on that,
‘Cause I’ve got a plan.

You’re beautiful. You’re beautiful.
You’re beautiful, it’s true.
I saw your face in a crowded place,
And I don’t know what to do,
‘Cause I’ll never be with you

Without any background this song is stupid.  He steps on a subway and falls in a love with some chick.  I hated it, and still can’t listen to it without cringing.

He sings in the video on a cold beach, not bad really and probably appropriate for the song.  But then he begins to strip.

It makes no sense!

"UGH I HATE THAT SONG!"

my buddy: "You’re KIDDING!!!  Have you seen the VIDEO??"

me laughing:  "Where he’s STRIPPING?  You just like the video because he’s taking his clothes off!"

my buddy - slyly LYING: "nuh ugh…he has a very unique, ummmmm, VOICE"

yeah…sure…

so anyway…

Ron and I marked our 15th anniversary by going to Fort Myers to visit my sister, Ginny, and her husband K. Don. We had a really nice visit. The only glitch was the weather was experiencing near record setting lows. They live in a lovely golf community, where the landscaping is thoughtfully manicured and appropriately tropical. From the events that preceeded our arrival, I assume the residents have to replace their own plants or if they want additional plants to compliment the existing foilage they have to purchase them themselves.

The events I’m talking about are Ginny and K. Dons visit to a Lowe’s/Home Depot to purchase replacement plants. Upon brining them home, they unload said plants, I assume for the "little brown round men" (or is it little round brown men?) to plant ‘em for them. Somehow in the gymnastics that is required to unload plants, my sister - a plant in each hand - trips on a bag of mulch, promptly lands her dismount a little off and lands on her right eye. Not sure which eye she planned on landing on…but I’m thinking she was hoping for a different result. Her eye took the brunt of the damage, but she also scraped her chin and knees.

I’m sure it probably shook K. Don up a bit, because he adores my sister. But he took some glee from telling everyone he’d popped her one. The phone was busy during our stay, I’d say half of the calls were friends checking up on Ginny and the other half were K. Don arranging card and/or golf games or handling the politics of the home owners board.

There is, apparently, a lot of shit going on in said politics. From what I gathered, there are more than several dumbasses with little else to do other’n living in outrageously expensive homes and bitching about how much it costs to live in that community. K. Don is fair and listens and then pretty much tells ‘em to suck it up or move - I love K. Don! I mean, SHIT, it’s not rocket science…this stuff doesn’t pay for itself!

Nimrods can be wealthy too…

so anyway…

ABC News reported on Good Morning America that there has been bombing in Iraq.

Are you fucking kidding me??

so anyway…

#1 Drivers Certificates for Illegal Aliens

I hear that Tennessee government is considering giving illegal aliens drivers certificates. Does this make sense? Anyone? Anyone?

I think that the defining phrase ILLEGAL ALIEN should be the key information we should focus on. California and Texas are considering or have granted illegal aliens that privilege. I believe we could use this as a tactic to organize a sting to fine the ILLEGAL ALIENS and send them back to where they came! Make them go through correct channels to live here legally.

#2 Ports Under New Management

A company based in the United Arab Emirates is being seriously considered for the responsibility of managing our major ports. I think it’s a bad idea…

I know not all of the 9/11 hijackers were from the UAE, If I lived in the UAE and a group of western terrorists hijacked three commercial jets, flying two into the two largest skyscrapers and tried to fly the third into their defense ministry complex. I wouldn’t want an American based company in charge of the gateways into my country.

Just sayin

so anyway…

My coworker is excited at the prospect of a weekend of snow.  He imagines tooling down the hill next to his home on his belly atop a sled with his two sons riding on his back.

Snow holds no excitement for me.  That allure left me when I was of driving age and realized how the citizens of Tennessee lose half of their IQ, half they can’t afford I might add, when percipitation starts with "the accumalation".  They decide now is the time to hit the local Kroger and stock up on supplies.  God forbid you just wanna go in to pick up some beer, you have to suffer the half-wits that don’t remember how it was last time.  You know, when the snow MELTED by noon the next day.  SHEESH!

I’m not leaving myself out of those that can’t seem to stay of the fucking streets during this awful weather.   

so anyway… I’m trying to figure out why I think about this blog when I’m in the john at work.  I think about bathroom etiquette.  How you don’t stand next to another guy at the urinals if there is another option.  How some men won’t crap if someone else is in the room and/or won’t exit the stall until the room is empty.  I can remember a time when I wouldn’t even crap at work.  I was so weird about crapping in public, that I would hold it ALL DAY.  I got over it…not sure when that occurred.  But I’m glad I did…it HAS to be a much healthier alternative, mentally and physically. Isn’t it weird to even think these things?

so anyway…

My partner’s father recently got out of the hospital.  He was having trouble breathing.  When they checked his heart rate, it was at 170bpm.  Normal is 60 to 100.  So they did a little investigation and found he had a mass on/in his lung, that was pressing against his heart.  Cancer was the first thought, he smokes three packs a day.  They had to get his heart under control before they did a biopsy.  They had to do some weird ass manuevering to get a biopsy.  It came back negative, but said if it was negative they’d have to do another biopsy.  One good thing from this, he’s stopped smoking.

Anyway, it got me to thinking about Dads.  How I’ve wanted to contact my partner’s dad to tell him what a great father he’s been to him.  How much Ron loves him and is, most certainly, like him.  But his dad has “issues” about same-sex couples.  Even though I would be honored to get to know him, it’s truly okay, I wouldn’t want to change anything about Ron’s relationship with his dad.

I want to BE a dad…and I think Ron and I would be great parents.  We certainly have a lot to offer a child.  So, if you know someone that would let me rent their uterus for nine months, send them my way!

so anyway… 

We’re at our friends home, babysitting Baby Drew.  Six months old…adorable, SO adorable!  He looks like he’s a year old…big boy.  Of course we knew the babysitting experience would be different from just a visit.

It’s been a while since either of us have changed a diaper…that was my biggest concern.  The girls left notes on what to expect:

Between 7 & 8 - depends on mood (this is a reference to meal time)

1. Warm bottle w/o nipple on, in micro for 35 seconds
2. Bed time is usually 8:00 - when he gets fussy you will know he is ready
3. He needs a diaper change, if necessary, before bed
4. He sleeps in the blue sleep sac in his crib, it zips down (instead of up!)
5. Passy (pacifier) & snuggle (small blanket with a lions head on a corner) to sleep with and turn sleep machine on

He was so sweet, he played well with us.  He began to get fussy around 6:45 or so - we didn’t wanna feed him too early, so we walked with him.  Talking softly to him…singing to him, whispering in his ear.  He calmed quite a bit when we walked in the mommies (yes plural) bedroom.  He liked their bathroom the most and the guest bathroom next.  Go into his room, OH MY GOD, step away from Drew’s bedroom!  NOT ready for sleep yet. 

About 7:15 Ron went downstairs to prepare his bottle.  I’m upstairs with Drew, he’s a tiny bit grumpy, my thinking is…he’s wondering, “Where are the ones with the tits?”.  He gets increasingly pissed, until Ron comes up…and I hand him over to him.  Ron sits down on the couch and as I leave to go the john, I look back and Drew has his mouth open, waiting on his bottle.  By the time I get out, he’s bitching…either Ron is not doing it right or he wants something else.

I pick him up and start walking him again.  He’s tired…you can see it.  He calms some.  But it’s hot up here…I suggest we go downstairs and we do.  He’s happy with me, somewhat…I cradle him in my arms, hold the bottle to his lips and he begins to feed.  It’s automatic, instinctual - he begins to get cozy…sleeping (I think) and sucking on that bottle.  I sit with him downstairs, he’s in my arms, eyes closed, mouth “going to town”.  Occassionally he will stop drawing on the nipple, it is SO SWEET…I jiggle the bottle a little and he begins again.  This goes on until the bottle is empty.  When repositioning him to my chest, facing over my shoulder…WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!  I am apparently not doing it right.

Walking him helps…but only for a short time.  His crying is consistent and it’s beginning to escalate.  Crying… crying… crying… crying… crying… crying… crying… crying… crying… crying… crying… crying… crying… crying… crying… Crying… CRying… CRYing… CRYIng… CRYINg… CRYING… CRYING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Me: “It’s okay baby boy, it’s okay.  I love you sweet boy, it’ll be okay…”

Drew: “CRYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY!!!!”

Me: “Ron, I think he’s too hot!  Hell I’M HOT, let’s take this sleeper off of him, look at his face it’s so red!”

We take the sleeper off…it DOESN’T help.

Drew: “CRYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY!!!!”

Me: “Sweetie, I know life sucks, you’re stuck with the guys…we don’t have tits.  The titties will be back later.”

This goes on for at least 15 minutes solid - my feeling of helplessness begins to build.  This shit is STRESSFUL!!

I cannot convey to you how wound up I am at this point.

We determine he needs a diaper change…we are both at the changing table, two grown men towering over this tiny, possessed being.  He arches his back, stiffens his legs….“I’m NOT WET you idiots!!!  Can’t you SEE what’s wrong??”   No Drew, we can’t.

We decide to put him in his crib.  This involves putting him BACK into his sleeper, which is telling Drew…“These guys are such amateurs, why’d they take me out of the fucking sleeper anyway?  I like the dang sleeper, Mama gave it too me, GEEZ!! Damn rubes!!”

When the girls get home, they will see…we didn’t button the sleeper up right in the crotch area. 

Now we have to put him in the “sleep sac”…

Drew: “CRYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY!!!!”

Me: “He’s HOT, why does he have to sleep in all this shit?  He’s in the dang sleeper AND NOW I HAVE TO PUT HIM IN THE SLEEP SAC!!!  I’d be pissed too, look at his face it’s SO RED!”

He’s in his sleep sac, he has his snuggle thingy, I put his pacifier in his mouth and boom, he’s quiet, for a while, he starts to fuss a little.  But nothing like “The Exorcist 2005, Reagan Has A Son” act we had earlier. 

The next 15 minutes involves us listening for him.  Going to him when he cries, giving him his pacifier or handing him back his snuggle.  There is one jag of crying again, but going in and gently rubbing the snuggle against his sweet face calms him and he eventually slips off to sleep.  This is what it took to help him recover from “The Torture of the Amateurs”.

He has suffered much…poor thing.

Me: “IS THERE ANYMORE BEER??  And when are the titties coming home?”

Not too soon I hope…

so anyway… 

We went to see Brokeback Mountain on Friday afternoon, with Mom and Ron.  John and Deen met us there and, thankfully, saved us seats!

I tried to post about on Friday, but I had upgraded the blog software and it wasn’t behaving.  Which is probably best, because I was very “low” about it.  The movie is not a “feel good” kind of film.  I left with and kept a heavy heart for the rest of the evening and much of the next day.

The critics say very good things about the picture…saying “it’s so much more then a gay cowboy movie”.  And it is.  It broke my heart.  If you know a gay man, if you love a gay man, on whatever level, you must watch this film.  It’s about love, and SO not about sex.

It will touch you…perhaps differently than I.  But that’s part of the beauty of this movie.  You can leave there with an interpretation so totally different from those you go there with.  It sparks conversation about what it must have been like in the 60’s for gay men.  Which will spark conversation about what it must be like for gay men today.

Anyway, Happy New Year folks!  Be with someone you love…don’t compromise.

so anyway… 

Every year, Ron and I have a holiday potluck.  We provided a spiral sliced ham, breads, beer and soft drinks.  And the party goers bring a side dish, ranging from Christmas cookies, cakes and pies, to casseroles, salads and shrimp. 

This year, we had 45 adults and 11 children.  Making 56 our record.  We had the house decorated inside and out.  Inside a twelve foot pre-lit tree with tons of ornaments.  The mantle was decorated by my mom and me, it really looked nice.  Outside we had prelit wreaths and green garland swagged between the columns, homemade luminaries to guide people up the hill.  Out back we had a new fire pit/chiminea to keep the smokers warm.

It makes you realize how lucky you are, when you have a house full of people that love/like you because of YOU!  It makes you forget about the people that forget about your friendship, whether it be because I came out to them and they couldn’t handle it or we just feel by the wayside.  It makes you forgive them and wish all the best.

My friend Cathy came in from Louisville - it’d been awhile since I’d seen her.  But we just fell back into the groove we’ve always had…finishing each other’s sentences, laughing at the same shit.  I love her so much and I know she will always love me.  We discussed the possibility of her carrying my child.  I hope that comes true, but it’s a lot to ask, even to a wonderful friend like her.  Plus, she’s getting to the age, where her eggs could be risky. 

This is the 14th Christmas Ron and I will share together.  We are so fortunate to have each other.  I love him so much, we share so much together.

Anyway, there is much to be thankful for.  To all my friends, have a great holiday season!  You are all very special to me.