Bobservation

Really just a singular Bobservation about the madness that can be me and my thoughts and how Carlos helps save me from myself.

Ooooh, dark, eh?

During Christmas, Carlos suggested a vacation, just the two of us, for some time in January. He said it was for my birthday and “other stuff,” and I knew what that meant.

You see, we’re coming up on a year since my father died and I have had this feeling that I might not live past that date; I said it was dark. I don’t dwell on it, but the fact that so many of my close family have died in February makes my mind go there, so Carlos planned a vacation.

In the last four years or so our “vacations” were just me, or sometimes the two of us, going to Oregon because my father had a health issue and needed help at home; and I was always glad to go and help, but it became a depressing thought … flights, airports, cars were not for fun trips but for family responsibility and that became a drag as much as I wanted to help and was only too happy to help, so Carlos planned a trip.

New York was a first choice because he knows how much I love it but the cold snap, with 30s during the day and below freezing at night kinda put a damper on exploring the city outdoors as we like to do, so he switched gears … Savannah.

All the years we’ve lived here we never visited so he thought a new place would be just the thing, and it was, except while we got a hair over an inch of snow, Savannah got nearly half a foot, so it was cold down there and icy down there and, yeah.

But it was just the trip we ... I ... needed. Just the two of us lounging in the hotel room in early mornings, and then going on walkabouts through the waterfront and down into the Historic District, the City Market, art galleries, coffee shops, hole-in-the-wall pubs and some upscale eateries. We wandered and ate and drank and drank some more, and then ate again, and laughed and talked and just had a good time.

It really was the getaway we both needed, me especially at this time. While I am generally a positive person, I can get dark and very introspective and a little nutty at times and while this trip didn’t change that ... I am still dreading the next few weeks ... it did give me, both of us, a much-needed break.

I joke about Carlos, pick on his eyesight, and his horrid hearing, his forgetfulness, his love of Nerd News, the disasters he leaves in the kitchen … that’s all. I kid; I joke about all of that but there is no one who gets me more and knows what I need and how to make me feel better on those Blue Days that come up, or maybe even the Blue Months. He understands that this first year will be difficult as my mind wanders into the abyss, but I really am very lucky that I found him, and he found me.

Now … that’s all … other than a few photos of Savannah.

The Blah-plosion

So, I have been Blah, and as I said yesterday, Carlos, very empathetically, told me to:

“Change your mood.”

Then for that whole day, he’d ask if I was still feeling ‘blah,’ while wearing a little smirk on his face. At one point he suggested I take a walk, and I said a walk isn’t the cure, or the answer; these are feelings that I need to work through and you cannot walk or wish them away. And he said:

“Well, I’m really getting tired of the blah-sy attitude.”

Cue Blah-plosion.

I let him have it because, while the blahs are hard to explain, him saying that to me pissed me off, and mama ain’t happy when she’s pissed off. I told him, that had he come to me and said he was feeling blah, or depressed, or anxious, or worried, the first words out of my mouth would have been:

“Can I do anything to help?”

I told him it wasn’t the virus, and it was the virus; it wasn’t not going to work and it was not going to work; it wasn’t the animals, but it was; it wasn’t him but it was; it was the sunshine; it was nighttime; it was everything and nothing. It was my Dad, and my worry about him 3,000 miles away.

But what it was that pissed me off was his blasé attitude about it. There are the rare times Carlos and I actually fight, a lot of loud angry words, a lot of airing of feelings, and a lot of apologies … from his side.

I again explained that this is not something you can wish, walk, or help away; it needed to be worked through, in my way, at my pace. Again, he apologized and I told him just be a little more compassionate; I told him I know he takes everything too personally and that he felt I was angry at him because of my mood. I said:

“Twenty years and you still don’t think when I have a problem with you, I don’t tell you?”

And we kinda laughed, and let it go, and this morning, the blackness lifted a little, and so I told him maybe yelling at him was the answer.

It’s not, but hopefully he got the message, and when this happens again, and it will, though it’s a once or twice a year thing, and usually lasts about three days, he might be more understanding.

If not … I’ll yell. Maybe it’ll work again.

PS Thank you all for your kind words yesterday. They meant a lot.

Random Musings

Last weekend we had a houseguest, and you know what they say about houseguests …

He’s a friend of ours that I met when I met Carlos at the beginning of the century. He’s funny, smart, and a bit of a perv. I love when he wants to talk politics and architecture and history, but then he suddenly veers into a conversation of dick size, and wouldn’t you f**k him, and, well, it’s all a little much. But, he came bearing gifts, or so he said, so I thought it might be a nice weekend. He came out of his room carrying an object and said it was for Carlos.

To me, it looked like a flashlight, and since Carlos has issues with his night vision, that’s what I thought. But Carlos was twisting off the top and when it came off, I thought I saw a lens on the top; flashlight. Oh wait, there’s a slit in the ‘lens’ and, yes, not a flashlight, but a Fleshlight; a toy some men use to, um, choke their chicken, spank their monkey, audition their hand puppet, clean their rifle … you get the idea.

Anyway, not the kind of ‘gift’ you’d expect from a sixty-six-year-old retired attorney from New York City who sounds more than a little like Beverly Leslie from Will and Grace.

But the best part? After the houseguest left, Carlos and I were talking about the gift and Carlos said … “At first I thought it was a martini shaker.” And that was no euphemism for the Five Knuckle Shuffle. And then he says, “When the lid came off I thought it was a bathroom deodorizer.”

Oy, Carlo. You gotta love him. I know I do.

I remember a couple of years ago when word came out that Target was supporting an anti-LGBT candidate for political office in Minnesota. I, and many of my gay brethren, opted to voice our dismay by boycotting Target—not hard for me since I’d been in Target maybe a  handful of times in my life, but still…

And the rightwingnut Christians thought the boycott was cruel and mean and began calling the LGBT community ‘homofascists’ who boycott any and all groups who don’t agree with us.

Cut to last month when Target came out in support of marriage equality in Wisconsin and what happened? Those same rightwingnut Christians began calling for a Target Boycott since the retailer didn’t agree with their agenda.

F**king hypocrites.

In TV Hot Guys News, I’ve become kind of addicted to the new USA show, You’re The Worst, about a couple of toxic people who fall in love and their toxicity doubles.

 It’s irreverent humor — which I love — and features Brit Chris Geere — with a delicious accent which I love — and his best friend played by Desmin Borges, who is almost always in his underwear — which I also love.

Just sayin’.

The folks in Michigan have gone crazy, y’all. How else do we explain how Gary Glenn, the president of the American Family Association of Michigan, won the GOP primary for a seat in the Michigan state House?

Glenn supports  Michigan’s 2004 constitutional amendment banning same-sex marriage; he backed loon,  and “very special friend”, Mike Huckabee’s failed 2008 presidential bid; he wants to recriminalize homosexuality; he warns companies not to hire The Gays; he wants schools to ban Gay Straight Alliances because  they promote “homosexual propaganda” and “risky behavior”; he was a plaintiff in a lawsuit to stop the 2009 Federal Hate Crimes law because he said, falsely, obviously, it would criminalize the Bible.

WTF Michigan? You don’t wanna move ahead?

Last week we talked about Mary’s Gourmet Diner, the restaurant in North Carolina where the owner gave discounts to people who openly prayed before each meal because she thought it showed what good Christians they are.

Not so much anymore. Elizabeth Cavell, staff attorney at the Freedom From Religion Foundation, the largest national association of freethinkers, or people of no religious beliefs, began receiving complaints about the discount and sent a letter to diner owner, Mary Haglund, asking her to stop offering the discount.

“As a place of ‘public accommodation,’ it is illegal for Mary’s Gourmet Diner to discriminate, or show favoritism, on the basis of religion. Your restaurant’s restrictive promotional practice favors religious customers, and denies customers who do not pray and nonbelievers the right to ‘full and equal’ enjoyment of Mary’s Gourmet Diner.”

The next day a note was posted to the door at Mary’s announcing they would no longer offer the prayer discount:

“While you may exercise your right of religious freedom at this restaurant by praying over your meal to any entity or non-entity. We must protect your freedom from religion in a public place.”

Good.

In other TV news, the amazing Patti LaBelle is said to be joining the cast of American Horror Story: Freak Show this fall.

LaBelle will be playing Gabourey Sidibe’s mother in this next arc of the show, set in 1950s Jupiter, Florida, where it will focus on a series of mysterious murders centered around one of the few remaining side-show attractions in the country.

LaBelle’s character will delve into the truth about the “secrets of Twisty the clown killer.”

Twisty the clown killer? I am so in!

Hell hath no fury like a homophobe whose wife left him for another woman.

Jonathan Saenz, a virulently anti-gay activist and President of conservative group Texas Values, was divorced in August 2011 and court records show that his wife left him for another woman just months before he joined that hate group.

I guess when your wife leaves you for a woman, your only option is to run out and join an anti-gay group?

I watched a news report on Robin Williams' suicide the other night, and they were "reporting" on how many people felt that the press conference following Williams' death was so bad, so inappropriate and so full of salacious information.

After that snippet, the news channel began speculating on Williams' marriage, his finances, and whether or not he was sober in his last few days.

Pot.Kettle.STFU.

But ... if you want to read an amazing blog post on depression, what it can feel like, and how one person copes with it as best they can, go to A Heritage of Humor - Stories from my Kitchen to read Joe's account of depression.

It brilliant.