More from Florida
November 7, 2009 at 11:59 pm | In Culture, Cute Guys, Family | 1 CommentTags: Florida, Max Palacio, Phillip Kaplan
First off, I have to apologize for not having written in quite some time. These last few weeks I’ve been dealing with quite a bit of information that has really knocked me sideways. I’ve gone from being excited to being fearful to being hopeless to being hopeful, sometimes in a single minute’s time. I will fill you all in quite soon on what it’s all about, but I have some off-line journaling to do beofre I can get things into a coherent and hopefully interesting form for publication to the masses (well, the two or three of you that still read this.)
Back to Florida
Well, we’re still in sunny Florida (in our story) and the second day of our trip has dawned. C & I left to get breakfast out, at a little restaurant mum and dad recommended. It was okay; I have to say that I do find myself getting more fond of grits. (Which, lets face it, are basically a loose pap, right?) After that we trotted off downtown to check out the galleries; we found some nice things but nothing that demanded we take it home. I really liked some of the paintings, but wasn’t so fond of the ‘giclée’ (aka a photograph printed on canvas). The gallery owner even said that the artist set the price for is paintings too high.
Came back to the condo and then went to lie by the pool. While there, I thought – I get it. I get why people retire there. You can go to the pool nearly every day. The gulf’s warm enough to swim in without ‘getting used’ to it. No shoveling snow. No dealing with icy roads. No slush. No leaves to rake up. And at least at the time we were there, we weren’t surrounded by “wrinklies;” at the pool dh and I were the oldest people around.
Of course, if I lived there I really couldn’t do what I did that day – lie two hours in the sun without sun block. I was peeling for two weeks. Because I’m…erm… taller than my hair, I peeled on my scalp too. That’d never happened to me before.
That night we went to dinner at a strange restaurant overlooking some sort of canal. The food was good though, but the ceilings were painted black which made the lights that hung from them very glaring and harsh. Also by the time we left we were the only people there, yet it wasn’t that late; about eight p.m.
No pictures from this day because, well, I don’t like having pictures of me at the pool!
The next day we had a late breakfast and drove back up to Tampa and caught the flight home. Here are some pictures of the Sunshine Skyway:
It looks scarier than it really is.
A Movie You Should See
Well, a few actually. The first is “Nine Queens” from Argentina. It’s a movie about con artists who try to swindle a stamp collector with some fake stamps. It stars Ricardo Darín and the very handsome Gastón Pauls. I recommend it; it is in Spanish but the subtitles make it easy to follow the somewhat complicated story.
You can give Gastón a click to see him get bigger…I really enjoyed how he played a tough guy with vulnerability, if you know what I mean. There was always a little boy inside the swindler, the schemer, so that you couldn’t really stay judgmental over him. There’s a surprise ending of course.
The next is also from Argentina: “XXY” about a child growing up as a girl but with an extra male chromosome. As
she reaches puberty she and her family have to decide how to proceed; and of course it’s not an easy decision that’s foisted on them. I probably wouldn’t view this with young children.
Both these films were recommended to me by Maximiliano Palacio; if you follow the Real Housewives of New York, he was Kelly Bensimone’s date (you may remember the Countess’s tongue hanging out over him, or Brad, Jill’s ‘gay husband’ making a scene of himself). I ‘met’ Max on facebook and have chatted to him on the chat facility there. He’s totally charming and nice and I wish him well in his acting and modeling career.
Another film not to see with children at all is “4 Months, 3 Weeks and 2 Days.” It will make you think and maybe change your ideas about abortion. If you don’t understand Romanian there are subtitles!
And now, some more eye candy for your delectation
The first piece of eye candy is the aforementioned Max, with the aforementioned Kelly at the Halloween party presumably after ‘the incident,’ and in a shot part of an ad campaign for Organica Boutique (which you can click to make him grow). Isn’t he handsome?
The sexy smart and funny Philip “pud” Kaplan, the internet entrepreneur and all around dark hairy bombshell from just over the Montgomery County line, is our second ocular bonbon.
(Okay, well I would, even if you wouldn’t. Oh, I so would if I were free and he were interested.)
(Which I’m not, free, that is. I do love my dh, and I love loving him too!)
Let’s Take a Break, Shall We?
October 25, 2009 at 9:55 pm | In Cute Guys, Family | Leave a CommentTags: Bruno Schuind, Florida, vacation
Let’s take a break from all this introspection and all these deep thoughts. So, I hear you asking, what has AngloAm been up to recently?
After our vacation to South Carolina, the dh and I went to visit my mum and dad in Venice, Florida. We flew down from BWI to Tampa which was an interesting flight. There was a loud woman on board with her (rather cute) husband, but they weren’t seated together, so she spent quite some time ordering him to ask those around him to move and shift positions and put themselves out so she could sit near him, and hand off their quiet baby to him. We get to Tampa and it’s balls-hot. After the crispness of Maryland, it hit us like a hot wet blanket – FWOMP.
We got the rental car and drove off down to Venice and to mum and dad’s condo. I must say it was nicer than I thought it would be. It’s small, but not much smaller than my house, all on one floor with a garage, a lanai (covered porch) and a view over the pond where we saw an alligator swimming about:
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What about the eye candy?
I guess if we’re getting back to normal, we’d better go all the way, and who better to go all the way with than our nearly forgotten Brazilian beach and pool boy, Bruno Schuind, here hopefully with some sun block on:
Step 2 Part 3
October 18, 2009 at 12:00 pm | In Exercise, Health | Leave a CommentA Storia Continua…
So time went on…I was getting a bit less depressed, but I of course I confused “feeling good” with “eating a lot” especially in the gourmet restaurants of Arlington, Virginia. And there was essentially nobody who held me accountable, I mean my mum and dad’s admonitions were pretty much just background buzzing to me, I mean – it hadn’t done much good until then so why would it now.
My beloved husband C came into my life then, first on line, then when he finally came to America to live with my I really was happy. He tried to support me when I declared I wanted to lose weight but the responsibility really wasn’t and isn’t his. Plus I can see he’s torn between wanting what’s best for me, what I demand (either whiningly or forcefully), and his love for me. As I say it’s really unfair and difficult the position he’s in. But I love his support for my good impulses.
A few years ago, my doctor told me that I should look into bariatric surgery. The idea intrigued me but the prospect of the battle with the insurance company, and anesthetic (!) scared me. Plus part of me wasn’t sure that I could really ‘live’ only eating a cup or so of food a meal. So I made a bargain with…um…many people, some real, some not, that I’d try weight watchers really strictly and exercise and see if that didn’t lose me some weight.
So I joined WW, and engaged a very tall personal trainer to get me out of the house and onto my feet. And I did really well; at first I could only walk six minutes before having to sit down and catch my breath; I got up to sixty minutes at a time. But he didn’t like the idea of strength training and I did. Come winter, I conquered my fear of the gym and actually went to one, and began working out, mainly on the treadmills. And everything went well, for a while. (See a pattern?)
We had to ramp the personal trainer down from twice a week to once, and then ‘let him go.’ And things haven’t held together all that well; I am too lazy, erm, unmotivated. But I did still sometimes make it to the gym and stuff and I still felt okay about things. Of course, eating was still my bête noir. Again, I lacked any form of accountability; I skipped out on WW whenever I felt like it, soaked up the praise when I ‘did good’ and whined about my ‘life story’ when I overate, and generally made an utter joke about what I was trying to do.
Recently even that fell by the wayside: (1) I had a nasty ankle condition that wound up with doctor’s order to stay off the treadmill which I used to (2) excuse myself from eating well which directly or indirectly (3) caused me to revert, emotionally back to where I was when I started; happy to spend money on fitness, feeling alienated from the gym, feeling ‘not as good’ as the guys there, feeling like all I can/want to do is eat and pretend that I’ll do something about it all manyana which never comes.
Okay, so my counsellor wants me to consider whether or not I will be alive in oh, say five or ten years. Statistically, actuarially, I won’t be. So why’m I not scared? I’m a ticking time-bomb for a heart attack, a stroke, degenerative disk disease, diabetes at the least. It’s not really a question of if I will succumb to one of these conditions, but when. And that when can’t be far off.
Oddly, I seem to be a kid in this area, and in many areas. I have the same attitude that my Godson has; I hide behind the effects of my irresponsible behaviour by figuring it can never happen to me. He smokes, which I consider crazy due to its health effects; I stay heavy, which anyone else would. In fact, my counsellor has asked me to do the following:
1) Take a picture of myself now, mostly naked, quite objectively. (For one of the fitness programs I’ve bought and am a bit enthusiastic about following because again, I’ll have constant qualified cheerleading, although I guess that could be mere exteriorization of motivation and doom me to fail).
2) Compare that to any pictures of myself pre-bloat (which will be hard to find) when I was thinner or at least closer to normal sized.
3) Work out how I can be less child-like in my thinking (with relation to my self-destructive eating and exercising, and my parents).
(All this by the 27th!)
More to come!
My Story Part 2
October 4, 2009 at 8:01 pm | In Health | 2 CommentsTags: Health, Whole Foods
Part 2…Young and Reckless
Well, my family left the states and went to live in Germany. I went to a German-American high school for the last two years. It was quite good but not very interested in athletics. Possibly it went ‘too far’ into the other direction. The only thing we had was a ‘sort of’ PE class where we mostly skived off, and Bundesjugendspiele – a German national youth games that you did sports and stuff as a whole school. Most of my friends (and I finally got friends) were rail-thin from excessive partying, or like me, a bit plump, but either way, not too physically active. Or were we? Unlike the US I did walk a lot in Germany because I didn’t have a car, while the city had great public transport. I’d think nothing of walking to the U-Bahn (metro), then all around town shopping, coming home with my feet on fire. I did take tennis lessons but would whine that they began too early and dropped them. Or my dad, who was taking them with me dropped them. Or let me. I don’t remember.
Ah but then I got a car and my walking days were essentially over. Oh, I’d go from the car park to the office or the shops but I was very good at finding the stores with underground or roof-top parking. I still would do things that would leave me half dead now; visiting my friend deep in the medieval heart of Tuebingen, where it wasn’t practical to drive, for example, but don’t believe everything you may hear about how Europeans walk more than Americans do; it’s perfectly possible to live just as sedentary life there as here. Harder to walk in the US though, I guess, with the lack of sidewalks, etc.
So we came back to the US and I was still able to buy my clothes in ‘normal’ stores. Off to finish up my college and again, I did walk more than now, but not much. And nobody was pushing me to do sports; I had no close friends who were athletic, and please remember — I had no clue what to do but I did enjoy my freedom to do nothing, so nothing is what I did. And of course, with a job and a car, you can literally eat 24 hours a day. I didn’t but I didn’t really deny myself much. This was a time when some issues with my family were really coming to a head and I was pretty much miserable and unhappy for many years. And I grew; this is the time I think when I went from ‘chubby’ to ‘big.’
The messages I was sending myself really sucked. I started hanging out at Girth and Mirth, a club for large men and their admirers, and found a lover who liked me for my fatness (and maybe niceness too). Now, I have to figure that’s like being turned on by somebody either suicidal or at least very sick, but there you are. I wasn’t alone. Well, then he left me and I was alone and I didn’t even have his eyes to watch over me and tell me I was eating too much (not that he ever did). I was extraordinarily sad and depressed and ate quite a bit. Since I didn’t hurt and could fit in my car, I didn’t bother much about it. I considered it ‘freedom’ to deep fry crap and ‘liberty’ to eat vast amounts of dessert all the time. If only I’d known. (That seems really on looking back to be a theme.)
Time went by and I really didn’t want to admit any consequences to my behaviour, nor to my indulgent overeating. Oh, well. I frankly didn’t care. Professionally there was quite a bit of turmoil in my life at this point, and financially as well, and I went from not having the money to buy food, not eating nearly every dinner out, at Denny’s, where I was famous for my order of battered deep fried chicken strips with french fries and french fries (eeeewww who wants those nasty vegetables?).
Wound up moving to Northern Virginia, where I equated “ethnic food” with “good food” and ate a lot of it. Especially delivered; it was classy and in, so it couldn’t be bad, right? Life was pretty empty then, I had my friends but I was still on my butt financially and emotionally.
And then came the winter of my content. I was working in an office with a real buffster, a winner of the Army bodybuilding championship and I finally asked him to design a weight training routine for me. He agreed and I was doing push-ups and sit-ups and riding the recumbent bike. My longest time was 45 minutes. I also adopted a very low fat diet. I ate nothing that had less than 3 grams of fiber per serving, no red meat, hardly any chicken, some fish, etc. And I lost eighty pounds. I was feeling really good. I remember one time I stood up to get out of my car at the shopping center, but my jeans didn’t stand up. They stayed where they were and I had to hold them up I’d lost so much so fast.
I joined Overeaters Anonymous and that was a bit of a help, maybe mostly because it kept my attention focussed on what I was doing. I remember feeling so self-involved (in a good way) – I lived, breathed and ate weight-loss, abstinence and low-fat. When I went to my mum and dad’s for dinner, I brought my own food (vegetable casserole, brown rice). I realize now I was eating very well – mainly beans and vegetables, fruits, whole grains, little meat, high-fiber. I did develop a taste for brown rice, but I still only ‘somewhat’ like eggplants, despite eating rather a lot of them.
So what happened? Well, I missed a gym session. Nothing happened. Another one. Nothing happened. And honestly after those two misses, well, it was all up in smoke.
Soon after, I met my wonderful husband. More on that to come.
My Story
September 30, 2009 at 10:39 pm | In Exercise, Resolutions | 3 CommentsTags: WW
This is part one of a series of posts I’ll put up as part of my implementing a program of losing fat.
Don’t worry, eye candy will be back soon!
I was always averse to sports. One reason was that I never knew how to play the games. I remember the times that I was sent out to play football (soccer) in school in England having no idea what to do, except an idea that I was wrong. Oh, and it was cold all the time.
But then we came to America and it got worse. I was always shy about my body and I hated having to change in gym class. But that was only half of it. First off I was totally unprepared for how hot it was. Then because I was different I was (quite ironically) called the class faggot which was very traumatic. I think then I began to really think of a huge gulf between me and ‘normal guys.’ The teasing and verbal abuse was constant. I remember feeling very disgusted and almost raped when we had to play ‘shirts versus skins.’ Why was I made to partially disrobe? I felt so annoyed. I can remember the feeling today. I went from not quite knowing how to play soccer and cricket to having no idea how to play baseball or basketball.
And of course home life was full of turmoil. I think that this is when I began to ‘sneak’ food from my parents’ fridge and kitchen cupboards. I remember it was my way to have something ‘special’ in my life, and in some way it was my role in the family–in that I always did it, and they always moaned. It didn’t matter what I ate; cheese or savory things, or sweets. It was all the same. I thought of myself as very clever avoiding sometimes getting caught, but I was caught and moaned at all the time.
Things got a little better in high school and I was even in the marching band, but my sense of being utterly out of place in athletics was pretty much set. I did have one gym teacher who set me to running around the track, but then I got shin splints and between that and my moaning he gave up. In high school I pretty quick figured out that if I took ‘recreational games’ for my mandatory gym class, I would get to see the football studs (oh, Stewart Brandenburg how gorgeous you were) taking a PE class without exerting themselves, while not exerting myself. One horror though; I was mistakenly placed in a weightlifting class. I show up and all I hear is about sweaty balls in jock straps and stuff – again with the unwanted sexual references – and I skedaddled to the guidance and scheduling office toute de suite to get back into my desired class. Why all this emphasis on sexual innuendo when you’re teaching a skill and encouraging performance? And at such an age when these things are shameful for being too developed or not developed enough…or as in my case, developed in the wrong direction.
PE teachers, please, treat your students like students, there to learn and not to hear about testicles or to be forcibly stripped. Honestly. Try.
Ever?
September 25, 2009 at 11:26 am | In Resolutions | Leave a CommentEver make a decision and live with it, only slowly to change your mind?
Ever find yourself reversing something you set your mind to do? Not talking little things, like a blue pen instead of a black one, but a major direction in your life?
Ever been afraid of the consequences of doing or saying something yet the impulse to do so bubbles up constantly? Consequences from trivial (the “I told you so’s”) to broad(changes in routine, in way of life) to deep (alterations in how you see yourself and the world, and your place in it)?
Ever wanted something, but been afraid of it? Felt so eager to grasp something yet holding back because of your dignity or pride, or habit, or fear of the implications, or some other reason. Or a brew of all those reasons and more.
Yet felt you needed to grasp it.
Ever feel alone, no matter your circumstances?
Afraid of being humble yet seeing no other way?
Felt like you’re a dam holding something back and wishing you could crack the dam just a little, but been afraid that the tinest of cracks will mean total deluge?
Gotten used to the feeling of butterflies in your stomach when you think about a particular subject?
How’d you deal with it?
What shall we do?
September 19, 2009 at 11:40 am | In Uncategorized | 2 CommentsDay Seven: Today was very odd indeed
I kept sitting around. I was going to go to the beach. I was going to go to the pool. I was going to do so much and thoughts of ‘oh dear, this is not how a holiday should be’ kept running through my head. I drove C quite insane I think. We woke up late and had cereal and things for brekkies and things. Got on-line which I guess is a holiday thing, as I don’t have to play on line much what with evenings being crowded and weekends full of errands (or sleeping in!).
After a lunch of sandwiches that C made (see a pattern?) we, well, sat around some more. But it was lovely to have the luxury of both togetherness and time. Which really was the point of the vacation after all, when you think of it.
We got a pizza for dinner while we…well, mostly C did the initial packing. There was some tension as we realized we had to get shifting before bed and bed had to come pretty early because of the early start.
So no big deal, no big last night, lying by the pool in the afternoon with a citron presse and a trashy book, no cinzano aperitifs on the terrace and cioppino dinners, none of what you’d see in the movies or read about in one of those trashy books.
But. It was a great vacation. Mainly because C and I had the luxury of spending time together, without deadlines, without the phone clanging or the e-mail buzzing.
And that is how you vacate your mind of the every day, isn’t it?
Day Eight: Vrooooooom!
Today dawned early as C struggled to get all the stuff down to the car and I … didn’t do as much. However, I swung into action right after; we drove down to Pawleys to drop the keys off and then back up to Surfside Beach for breakfast (the Eggs Up Grill again). I discovered I like grits with one pack of Splenda. Mmm good. For my SA friends, imagine very loose pap, sweetened. mmm good.
From there via Costco in Myrtle Beach to gas up down a bunch o’ roads including a strange detour south on I-95 to Charlotte, NC. We got there in plenty of time so we holed up and took a pit stop in a Starbucks which was a welcome break for me.
After Starbucks it was off to the South African store in Matthews, NC, where I bought five packs of boerewors (mmmm boerewors) which is a South African sausage, spiced with coriander. It’s soooo good. Also some pap (white corn meal which is grits but when you cook it as pap, you make it stywer/stiffer) and some piri-piri sauce. Mmm good.
So we get back into the car and head down to Charlotte’s beltway and set the GPS for the hotel we’d booked, in Lynchburg. Hmmm only three hours. So we cancelled those directions and programmed it for home. Hmmm only six hours. It was about half past three…I thought “I can do this” and I did. Up I-85 to I-95 south of Richmond. Kinda boring but we had a good book on the iPod to listen to so really it flew by. Gassed up in Virginia, and took a pit stop in Fredericksburg. We were getting hungry but decided to press on…and eventually we thought – could we get something from near home and eat at home?
By then I wanted to get to and be in our house so after a fairly uneventful six hours (nine total including the morning) we swung by a KFC in Greenbelt for a bucket o’ chicken and then home.
And the growler kept the wors frozen the whole way. So that was good. It’s odd, I think if it was to get to a destination other than home I might not have pushed myself, but the call of our own bed was really strong. It was good to find out that the truck is as comfortable as the Avalon we had before; I thought it would be but C was a bit worried. I do love the roominess of it. It was great to have so much room for stuff.
So the great beach trek was over. I loved it. It was paradise having the time and togetherness with my husband, where the only people we had to please were ourselves. I have to go over the things we did and figure out what we can adapt from the vacation to our daily life. For example, I’m typing this lying in bed because, dammit, I have a lap top and can synch via MobileMe and so it’s all good and relaxing. C is lying beside me watching TV. It’s 10 pm* and I’m about to sign out and snooze off. ☺
Thanks for reading!
* I posted it later…
We’re back!
September 14, 2009 at 9:32 pm | In Uncategorized | Leave a CommentTags: Bruno Schuind, vacation
Yes, we’re back from our annual “big” vacation, back from Pawley’s Island, SC. (Well, Litchfield, just north of it actually.)
Day One: Off to Pawleys
We set off for Pawleys Island Friday at around 8 pm. I was initially a bit worried about setting out after a day at work and in fact we both confessed to each other that we were oddly nervous. C had taken the day off and packed everything from the pillows and towels to our clothes and the crock pot. We packed up the truck and headed out as the sun was setting. I made it quite well to the Fairfield Inn and Suites in Emporia, VA, by about 12 midnight. Not too tired, either. The hotel was quite acceptable for one night.
Generally, the ride was okay, bit clogged through Waldorf, but it always is. We stopped at Starbucks for a coffee along the way to keep me awake. South of Waldorf the traffic spun right down and we crossed the Nice bridge into Virginia with no problems. We decided we really wanted Burger King for dinner and where VA207 hits I-95 we were sure we’d find one but we had to go one exit down to Doswell. I hate roadside fast food joints; this one was full of shouting Latinas and the toilets were smelly. And full. Ugh.
As always, I-295 around Richmond was boring, except some rather pushy road racers enlivened things, unwelcomely. Zipped around Richmond and down the long southern leg of the road without too much trouble. We should have stopped there at a better place for dinner. As I say got to the hotel late, so had to humpf the night bag (toiletries and a change of clothes each) and the camera gear across the hotel’s parking lot.
Day Two: Onwards to the House
Saturday morning we woke and had the hotel’s free ‘continental breakfast.’ I was a bit miffed as I thought, and led C to believe, that there would be ‘meat disks’ and ‘egg disks’ like he likes at the hotel we stay in in Somers Point, in New Jersey. Alas there were only hockey puck like biscuits with sausage to microwave, and the usual assortment of baked goods. And the coffee was horrid. On the way out of the town we stopped to get some snacky-poos and drinks for the trip.
Somehow the drive was more tedious than the run the night before. I continue to be amazed at the amount of trouble and congestion people’s lack of any lane discipline creates. Stopped for gas and more snacks still inside North Carolina but before that horribly tacky ‘South of the Border.’
The car had us go through Latta on surface routes and we noticed some really nice old houses; not too self-consciously antebellum. And of course, the new-look South Carolina highway shields are popping up all over. I think they look great:
The new improvements to US501 from I-95 are welcome, but they still have to do something about the traffic in and around Conway. Pretty clogged as always. We took SC701 I think around the worst of Myrtle Beach and on down to US17. US17 down to Pawleys. Because we were a little early, we lunched at Hardees, again, not too clean. Got the keys and back up to Litchfield where we were staying at “Southern Comfort.” Litchfield is a gated community and as such we have a proper little pass to drive in.
The house is nice, but I don’t like all the stairs. I felt terrible as C had to do most of the hauling in but after the first flight of stairs I was done in. Heart pounding, gasping done in.
Back out to the Piggly Wiggly to get provisions for the week and I have to confess I wasn’t much help; I was still sore from the first set of hauling. On the way we saw an alligator in the pond! I was entranced; I’d never seen one before. I wished it weren’t swimming away from us but so is life. We may have a photograph of it to add, but it was rushed.
I think C did about five trips in all; and to get the food and stuff to the kitchen each trip was two long flights.
Afterwards we were not too tired to go down to the pool but we didn’t stay long. We cooked corn and brats and very nice they were too. C made the bed and we were in quite early. (See a pattern here? He really is a wonderful partner.)
Day Three: Lazy Day Number One
Sunday dawned bright and early, but I didn’t. I was very late out of bed. Hey, it’s a vacation.
Didn’t do much; the weather was very dull and gray and verging on chilly. We did watch TV and sit around. Eggs on toast for brekkies, left over brats for lunch and crockpot pot roast for dinner. Mmm good. I don’t think I moved from the couch except when necessary. I did go on line a bit but there is no desk and the dining room chairs are very uncomfortable.
C was wonderful taking care of me. I do love him.
Day Four: Lazy Day Number Two
Up just as late, but the weather was still dreary. Cereal for brekkies, salad for lunch, pot roast sandwiches and salad for dinner. Actually the sandwiches were very good. Television for entertainment.
Well, we did go down to the pool a bit. Not much else. It was that kind of day. Four hour nap. That kind of a date.
Day Five: Slightly Less Lazy Day
We actually bestirred ourselves today. In the morning we trotted off to the Food Lion after driving around Pawleys Island (and marveling at the number of houses for sale – it’s the same here in Litchfield). Got a few bits and bobs and needful things and then tried to track down Cinzano Bianco. We’ve found Cinzano Rosso, which I liked (C not so much) and we bought Martini & Rossi Bianco, but it has a very vegetable aftertaste and may be good only as antifreeze (or pro-freeze for the growler – our portable cooler that plugs in and makes a growling sound from the back of the car).
Lunch at Sonic. Why do they advertise it so much in Maryland where there aren’t any in Maryland? I had a big (but not very nice) hot dog with cheesy tots and a chocolate malted. I think it was just too much.
Home and down to the pool; it was the first sunny day of the week so far. The pool was still cold but lying there was so warm. So warm I wished I had a book…and of course C offered to find a Borders to get me one.
He’s so great.
Made a very unwanted discovery; there’s no DVD player in this house. Not too happy as I’d looked forward to seeing the last three episodes of ‘The Grafters’ and some of the other DVDs I’d brought with me. I think C also wanted to watch ‘Rome’ as well. Grrr. ☹
We went off to Myrtle Beach to the Barnes and Noble and I got a book by Donna Leon who was recommended by my mum; she’s an American writer who lives and sets her mysteries in Venice. I hope it will be just the kind of light, beachy book that’s just right for vacation. I also shopped around for a good book on iLife, specifically iWeb. Apparently iWeb is very easy and you don’t get many books on it.
After dinner we went to Carabbas in Murrells Inlet for dinner to celebrate ten years together. Ten years ago, at 11:40 on 8 September 1999, we physically met for the first time at the baggage claim at Dulles airport. Best development in my life.
Home and straight to bed. At 9:45.
Day Six: Pensive but Good
Cereal for breakfast, cheese and crackers for lunch, chicken cacciatore for dinner (from the crock pot).
Lovely day. Woke up very late but C had been up since around 0600. I don’t know how he does it. Finally pulled out this computer for ‘comfortable’ surfing but really detested those uncomfortable dining room seats. Again sunny and lovely and went down to the pool which was a lot warmer than before. Swam and bobbed and played around but didn’t lie out; even with the book. We really must get beyond the pool to the ocean soon. And take some pictures.
I kept wondering if I’m wasting this vacation but I guess I’m not. It doesn’t take much for me to slip into vacation mode; where time is very flexible and one drifts from thing to thing as the whim takes one.
Well, today was an odd day here at the beach.
Started off early; we went to Eggs Up Grill for breakfast. It’s really nice and not very hard to see why it gets so crowded on weekends. I had country ham and C had his usual. Mmm good.
To the grocery store next to pick up a few things, snacks, sodas, a rock mellon (cantaloupe), some more butter, bread, etc.
Came back to the house and that was it. I was very conflicted; the computer and internet seemed to trap me but I kept thinking I ought to go down to the pool or beach. Heck, we’ve not been to the beach at all this holiday and it’s so close to ending, I was thinking. But in the end laziness or the internet was the glue that kept me sitting at my screen doing very little “holiday.” Except maybe for wasting time. That’s holiday-ish, right?
I dunno.
Anyway, in the evening we went to Roiz Churrascaria in Myrtle Beach. Talk about a load of meat! We found out that you can ‘go green’ then ‘red’ to take a break, and back to ‘green’ when you want to eat more. I guzzled and C guzzled most of what the gauchos brought around. Some of the gauchos were rather handsome and I thought one was flirting with me. Alas! But a good thing, really.
Came home just in time to watch the ‘Real Housewives of Atlanta’ which was good and ‘Watch What Happens Live’ with Andy Cohen which was painful. Clue, Andy: Not every man you want to sleep with is gay. Whaddaya think about that?
That’s quite enough for now; to come are our last day and the marathon drive home. And what we did when we got there.
And Now for Something Rather Different
Bruno Schuind, modelling traditional tighty-whities and doing it rather well…click on the smaller bordered ones to see them bigger and bigger….
Zero Zero Zero
September 4, 2009 at 5:28 pm | In Culture, Gay, Politics | Leave a CommentTags: Chad Allen, Robert Gant, Save Me
Well, here’s more about Pastor Steven Anderson of the Faithful Word Baptist Church, aka our very own Mullah in his Madrasa.
What bothers me about him is his mixing his own religion and politics, with an accent on violence. He ‘hates‘ Barack Obama, which is fine, but this hatred, plus his doctrine of eternal security (by which anyone who is ’saved’ is saved forever, no matter what, even if they kill unrepentant), is a toxic, dangerous mix. He proudly says that he hates Barack Obama, prays that the president should get brain cancer and die. (He wouldn’t condemn somebody who killed the president but wants Obama to die of natural causes so he doesn’t become a martyr.)
Christopher Broughton, just after listening to the “Why I Hate Barack Obama” sermon brought an AR-57 rifle and a handgun to an Arizona Obama rally. And wouldn’t directly answer if he was advocating violence against the President. Just like Anderson preaches that ‘we’ shouldn’t go out and kill in God’s name ourselves but if somebody does, well, that’s fine by him.
He delights in the idea of Michelle Obama being a widow and his children being orphans.
He finds it not murder to kill abortion doctors.
And he wants my execution. All legal, he believes in due process, and all. Which only means that he’d like to write his beliefs into law. Know why? Because he knows, he knows for certain, that I molest children, that all gays molest children. Don’t believe me? Watch:
This chilling “Pastor Anderson holds no college degree but has well over 100 chapters of the Bible committed to memory.” Parrots have all sorts of things committed to memory. But they just don’t understand them. He’s adding a spiritual and biblical veneer of respectability to the crazy radical fighting talk coming out of the fringe right wing.
But it’s too easy to see his nuttiness as bigger and more important than it is.
This “pastor” spends his time preaching the holy hatred that he finds in Jesus, and misusing the term “Baptist” to do it. Luckily he preaches it to only about two dozen parishioners.
I feel very sorry for the Baptists because many people will lump then in with this loon. I feel even more sorry for the loving and affirming and peaceful and just of Christ’s followers (including many Baptists) that this person identifies himself with them. One of the evils of this person is how he takes the attention from the good Christians, including the ones who’ve surprised me and challenged me to rethink as I was researching this blog entry. The ones who reject rejection.
I have to confess to having had a very simplistic view of Christianity formed out of ignorance and bitterness, and seeing too many Steven Andersons and Jan and Paul Crouches and Benny Hinns, who either radiated hate or greed and self-satisfaction. It seemed to me that the Christian family was made up mostly of self-promoters on their golden thrones, rigid and cold rejectors, people who peddle uplift and relish downfall, the self-satisfied who sit in their nice clothes on Sunday passing judgement on everyone else.
I was rewatching “Save Me” last night, and one line struck me – Judith Light’s character regrets not having loved her gay son “as Jesus would have loved him.” I always felt the obligation that religion imposed, never the reward or joy of it.
I’m quite glad to admit that I was wrong, that that sort of person while dangerous or irritating or mean, isn’t the only, possibly isn’t the most interesting, and definitely isn’t the most beautiful face of the religion I walked out on so many years ago.
I wonder what I will do next? I certainly hope my thinking becomes less judgmental and prejudicial and blinded.
A Bona Fide Zero
September 1, 2009 at 9:25 pm | In Culture, Gay, Politics | Leave a CommentTags: Steven Anderson
A companion piece to yesterday’s entry about a great and good man, here’s a bit about an unpleasant little man who really is a zero. Or less.
He’s called for the death of President Obama. And very likely instigated one of his parishioners to show up at a “town hall” where the president was going to speak, brandishing a gun. Yes, parishioners. Because this little ball of ignorance is a “minister” of a “church,” the “Faithful Word Baptist Church – Independent” which finds its home in a storefront in a shopping center in the otherwise decent city of Tempe, Arizona.
If you didn’t know Steven L. Anderson, you’d probably suspect he was a butch gay man – with his short cropped hair, wide open face, fine body – the kind of guy who drives a jeep, wears lots of plaid shirts, and generally tries to appear very lumber-jacky. I mean, on the surface he’s a real all-American cutie. Inside it’s a whole other silly and sad story.
Now before I go on, I have to say the following:
HARDLY ANY CHRISTIANS ARE LIKE THIS PERSON
I don’t want people accusing me of saying that there are legions of lunatics like Steven L. Anderson in the body of Christianity. There aren’t. The religion would have been laughed out of existence before Paul’s letters ever reached Cappadocia.
Now that we’ve got that settled, Steven L. Anderson goes from being silly, like preaching that every man in Germany pees sitting down (a lie) whereas he, as a real man, pees the way God intended, standing up, and that if the country isn’t careful, peeing standing up will be made illegal. He also figures that Barack Obama pees sitting down, anybody who translated the Bible since the King James edition pees sitting down, all other preachers pee sitting down. He declares, with great firmness, that when he goes back to Germany he’s gonna piss standing up to show them he’s a man. I swear, I couldn’t make stuff like this up:
But what gets me worried more than this preacher’s evident obsession with water sports, is that he has called for the President and for me to be killed.
Don’t believe me? Here’s the quote:
“You’re gonna tell me that I’m supposed to pray for the socialist devil,” asked Anderson, rhetorically, referring to Obama, “[this] murderer, infanticide, who wants to see young children, and he wants to see babies killed through abortion and partial birth — and all these other things — you’re gonna tell me I’m supposed to pray for god to give him a good lunch tomorrow, while he’s in Phoenix, Arizona. Nope. I’m not going to pray for his good. I’m going to pray that he dies and goes to hell. When I go to bed tonight, that’s how I’m going to pray.”
Still think I’m making this up? Take a listen to his hour long ramble.
He also believes that gays should be given the death penalty, as well as children who curse their parents and adulterers. Just like in old Afghanistan.
Part II on this little irritant is coming up next, in which we will further delve into why his rantings are more than just a fart in the wind.
Hint: As this shows, it’s certainly not for his power of poetry…
Our kids used to know “Amazing Grace”
Now they know “Will and Grace”
They used to know “In the sweet by and by”
Now they know “Queer eye for the Straight Guy”
They used to know “How great thou art”
Now they know “Homer Simpson and Bart”
They used to know “To God be the Glory”
Now they know “A Shark Tale” and “Toy Story”
They used to know “Blessed Assurance”
Now they know “Bel Air Fresh Prince”
They used to know “Close to thee”
Now they know “VH1” and “MTV”
They used to know “My Faith Has found a Resting Place”
Now they know “Star Trek” and “Lost in Space”
They used to know “Wounded for Me”
Now they know “CSI Miami”
They used to know “Send the Light”
Now they know “Entertainment Tonight”
They used to know “Revive Us Again”
Now they know “Seinfeld” and “Friends”
They used to know “On the Solid Rock I Stand”
Now they know “Sponge Bob” and “Spiderman”
They used to know “At the Cross” and “He lives”
Now they know “Everybody hates Chris”
They used to know “Shall We Gather”
Now they know “Ted Kopple” and “Dan Rather”
They used to know “Whiter than Snow”
Now they know “The Late Late Show”
They used to know “Sweet Hour of Prayer”
Now they know “A Current Affair”
They used to know “When We See Christ”
Now they know “Desperate Housewives”
They used to know “Keep Nothing Between”
Now they know “Billy Graham” and “Joel Osteen”
They used to know “On Zion’s Hill”
Now they know “Oprah” and “Dr. Phil”
They used to know “When we all Get to Heaven”
Now they know “Frasier” and “7th Heaven”
They used to know “Oh Say But I’m Glad”
Now they know “My Two Dads”
They used to know “He hideth My Soul”
Now they know “American Idol”
They used to know “There is a Fountain”
NOW THEY GO TO THE MOVIES AND WATCH “BROKEBACK MOUNTAIN!”
Oh, the humanity. Oh, the inanity.
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