Life is such a sweet insanity.

The time has come to wrap up 2004 and leap on in to 2005. While I do like to ramble on about fond memories, I'm not going to bore everyone with a "The Best of J.P. for 2004" type blog entry. Life is too short to just focus on 1/36th of my life.

Earl and I spent the day on a little road trip. I bought some clothes at Bon Ton courtesy of a gift certificate from my father, then we trekked on down to WestFarms Mall outside of Hartford, Connecticut for a nice dinner at California Pizza Kitchen, some shopping at the Apple store and some eye candy appreciation.

With the temps hovering around 55 degrees today, I was tempted to open the sunroof and enjoy the sunshine, after all that's what we always do on New Year's Eve in Upstate N.Y., right? I was content to just enjoy the day off with my lover. I did something I haven't done in a very, very long time. I called into the "Derek and Romaine" show on Sirius Out Q 149. Yes, I was Average Joe listener trying to win a trivia contest. The question? "Name who was stranded on Gilligan's Island." I was waiting for my chance to sing the theme song, but no, some lame ass rattled them off out of order. Oh well, maybe next time. It was a nice change of pace to not be exempt from winning a radio contest because of my career choice for a change.

Now we're going to watch the ball drop, exchange some private moments and call it a night.

The news is filled with nonstop images and sounds of the devastation left behind from the Indian Ocean Tsunamis. Unbelieveable stories. So much destruction. But little glimmers of hope. Help is pouring in from all over the world with what could be the worst natural disaster ever. I was a little bit surprised when I logged onto the Apple site today and found this.

That's right, Apple modified its main web page to solicit donations for relief efforts for those affected by the Tsunamis. Will it help? Absolutely. A PR move? Probably. But who cares? Apple is doing a good thing. And I applaud their efforts.

An unmade bed, a cat on my head, lover at my side. Who could ask for anything more.

Earl's quote of the night: "Where's the rest of the fuckin' blankets?"

Ain't love grand.

As I was writing last night's blog entry, it occurred to me that my resolutions may sound hauntingly familiar every year. So I dug up another old chestnut from my baby blogger days. I think my record is skipping or something...

~~~~~
Resolution Revolution
December 29, 2001

With New Year's just around the corner, it's time to completely revamp one's life with what I call the Resolution Revolution. I tend to take New Year's Resolutions very seriously. With the dropping of the ball and the birth of a new year, its the best time to take a new lease on life, slip into the body that I've always dreamed about, clear my skin, become more spiritually focused, get involved in civic affairs, become a cook, a gardener, a sky-diver, a nuclear physist, the list goes on and on.

But seriously, I do have hopes of improving my life and well-being around the New Year's holiday. The holiday holds so much promise.

Last year, one of my major New Year's resolutions was to become a full-time vegetarian. I had been dinking around with being a part-time vegetarian for a couple of months beforehand, mostly when it was convenient, but I told myself I needed to become dedicated to the cause. If it had the ability to take a dump, I wasn't going to eat it. That lasted until we went out west for vacation and I discovered "Sonic" and "In and Out" burger. So much for that.

Another resolution I made last year was to not spend unnecessary money. In celebration of this event, I went crazy on ebay and purchased a cash register system from a defunct department store. I guess I needed a place to store all the money I was saving.

One of my better resolutions of last year was to learn to speak French. I did the whole CD tutorial thing, along with "French for Dummies". Earl and I headed up to Montréal for a weekend, the perfect opportunity to test out my French. Trying to be friendly, I tried to strike up a conversation with a nice older woman in the mall. Since it was July, I simply said "Boy, it's hot". After she slugged me with her purse I realized that I had said, "I'm in heat." So much for French.

The first resolution of this year is the only one I am going to share. I'm not sharing my resolutions with anyone. After years of making promises to myself, and announcing them loudly to everyone within a 50 mile radius of my mouth, people tend to not take me seriously anymore. But after my Resolution Revolution of 2002, suffice it to say that I'm going to be rich, famous, a contributing member of society and absolutely gorgeous to look at. At least until January 15.

Once again the New Year is rolling around and naturally I'm thinking about what resolutions I can make so that I can be a better person. I don't know why I really bother making resolutions, to tell you the truth, because I am constantly trying to better myself, dare I say re-invent myself, but nonetheless, with the ringing in of the new year I at least feel like I'm with the crowd instead of against it.

I have two goals this year. Financial responsibility and getting back to my healthy ways.

I've always been terrible with money. I'm the first to admit. If I have it, I feel the need to spend it. "You can't take it with you." Oh, I live that motto right to the hilt and buy more crap than any other person I know. I poo-poo coupons. I shun sales. I laugh at those looking for a bargain. Ha ha ha ha ha.

In 2005, I'm going to make an honest attempt to be more financially responsible. Today did not set a good precedent, as I spent exactly $9.95 on a piece of software for my work computer that allows me to do the exposé thing that Mac OS X does. (If you have the latest version of Mac OS X, try pressing F9 or fn-F9 if you have an iBook or PowerBook, and see how much easier it makes it to choose what window you want to work with). As I told Earl about the $9.95 I spent on the debit card, he said to me, "So the financial responsibility you were talking about yesterday is gone today?" Or something like that. Chalk that conversation up to lesson learned.

My other goal is to get back on the health track. Last night I hit the exercise bike for 20 minutes of elevated heart rate goodness. Today I did 25 minutes and feel better, though I still feel fat. I've gained in the neighborhood of 8-10 pounds over this holiday season and I need to lose it. I've been very relaxed with my eating habits. The use of the word "relaxed" is kind of ironic, in that it takes a lot of energy to eat all the crap I've been shoveling into my mouth since Thanksgiving or so. For a little motivation, I watched the movie "Super Size Me" about the guy that ate nothing but Mc Donalds food for 30 days straight. The results of his diet were absolutely astounding. He gained around 20 pounds, his cholesterol shot up from 165 to 220-something, his liver was having an absolute fit (who knew a liver could have a fit without an alcohol assist?) and he couldn't get it up in bed.

Ooh, sign me up for that fun.

So I'm drinking water by the gallons and trying to eat small portioned, balanced meals. It's not easy with the enormous amount of leftovers in the house, but they'll all turn green or navy over the next couple of days and then they won't be a worry any longer. I really want to cut out soda altogether. I'll probably be super bastarad for the next couple of days until my body adjusts. I should cut out dairy again, but I don't want to throw my body, lifestyle and lover into shock. We'll ease into that slowly.

Yes siree, folks, its Resolution Revolution 2005. Let the party begin!

I mentioned before that Earl got me an iPod for Christmas. I've been busy loading it up with music. I've been a downloading fool on iTunes. I'm enjoying it, to say the least.

"This Is The Right Time", Lisa Stansfield.

I've turned into a dancing fool.



"Touch Me (All Night Long), Remix", Cathy Dennis.

I have created another iMix to share on iTunes. It's called "That Place: Being Gay In The 90s". I thought I would share a smattering of the songs I used to spin at the bar. The name of the bar was "That Place". Being cocky, I added "Utica's Hot Spot." "That Place: Utica's Hot Spot". A competing bar once burned to the ground. I quipped that they couldn't live up to "Utica's Hot Spot", even if they burned the place down. Kick 'em while they're down. God, I'm harsh.

I hate to sound smug, but I could easily fill a dance floor when I was working the turntables. Men, Women, Bears, Twinks, Drag Queens, Diesel Dikes, they all danced like wild people back in the day. Now they kind of shuffle to this R&B crap. There's no energy. No sparkle. The only Madonna song they play is "Like A Prayer", and it's the version that stops in the middle. Bleck. How can one Strike A Pose to that?

"Finally", Ce Ce Peniston. There was a little dance we used to do to this dance called the Homo Hop. It was like the hustle, only flashier. Everything homo is flashier.

Anyways, I'm enjoying my iPod beyond belief. I've also jumped back into the cycling bit, after taking a number of weeks off. I've decided that I need to get back into my exercise routine so that I'm not a total slug come spring. The iPod is making it much easier to tolerate the ambience of the cellar. I desperately want to hit the road and see the lovely Mohawk Valley from my two wheels, but Mother Nature has made sure that it's going to be a while before I can do that. Today's high was 11 degrees. And I'm a wimp.

"100% Pure Love", Crystal Waters

I didn't think I would be an iPod fan. I lied. I bought Earl an iPod for Christmas last year and he loves it. He uses it while he's on the road. It's his music, it's his radio, it's his contact list, it's his calendar.

"What You Don't Know", Expose. I haven't figured out how to make the accented "e" yet on a Mac. On the old VAXstation it was "Compose Character"+ ' + e. In Windows it was ALT+130. It's probably so easy on my Mac that I'm overlooking it.

To think that when Earl had his iMac I was used to scream, "But I don't know what to do! Where's the Start button?!?!?!"

"Tragedy", Steps.

Earl offered to make me a little snack while he goes and watches the Eagles game. Here's what he came up with.



Sometimes it's the simple things...

Now everyone back on the floor!

Earl and I are celebrating our eight year anniversary today. It was a very cold day back in 1996 when we exchanged our vows on a pier at Penn's Landing, overlooking the Delaware River in Philadelphia. Being so cold, there were hardly any people on the pier. There was a boatload of military guys passing by. Rick and Helen witnessed our vows and exchanging of rings.

I can hardly believe that eight years has gone by since we first said "I Do". It's amazing what life brings. Ups, downs. Every emotion possible. Many unions fail, while many others succeed. I like to think that we're a success story.

I've met many couples in my life, both gay and straight. I've seen many marriages succeed and many marriages fail. While every couple has their own recipe for success, I've found one common ingredient. The two people actually like each other.

It's kind of weird for me to understand, but I've seen couples that didn't really like each other. They do their own thing. They don't really share common interests. One shops and goes to the movies, while the other plays golf and watches porn. They come together to pay the bills, sleep in the same bed and eat meals. I don't know if they have sex. Maybe, but I'm guessing its not very often. They stay together for the sake of being married. I find it all very sad.

Earl is my best friend. We do everything together. It's very rare that we're apart outside of work. We've had people tell us that our relationship is not healthy. We need to spend time apart. We're (wave quote fingers) co-dependent.

What do they know? They jump from relationship to relationship. They meet, get married, fight and get a divorce all before last call on a Saturday night. Then they move on to the next one.

When I said "I do", I became half of one. A single unit. What I do affects the other and vice-versa. We go to the movies. We go out to eat. We go shopping. We make dinner. It's not "me", it's "we". Do I get on his nerves? Of course I do, I'm a pain in the ass. Does he get on my nerves? Yeah, he does. But it doesn't mean that we need to move in opposite directions and do our own thing. I tell him my concerns, he voices his. Sometimes very loudly. But we work through it. And then we continue on.

When we said "we do", we said it forever. There's no bail out baby. We're riding this roller coaster together, and we're not jumping out while the ride is still in motion. The ride can be a bumpy one. Sometimes it moves fast, other times it moves slow. Once in a while, we need to stop for maintenance and adjustment. Other times we're flying down the tracks, moving at a wildly exhilarating pace. Sometimes its scary. It can be exhausting. We find comfort in each others arms. But when we get to the platform, we decide to ride again, looking for new twists and turns along the way.

I'm proud to say that Earl is not only my lover and my partner, he's also my best friend.

Earl and I are finally winding down after a busy, busy Christmas celebration. As I type this in our "Great Room", arranged comfortably on the loveseat, he is lying on the couch, in his underwear with an afghan over him (the blanket, not an Afghan man) snoring away. The noise is music to my ears. He's worked hard all day and now he deserves the rest. I'm happy that my Powerbook has a relatively quiet keyboard for me to peck at.

On Thursday night we left for suburban Philly to visit his folks for Christmas Eve. It was 60 degrees when we left (so much for the -13 degrees we had at the beginning of the week), but the temps quickly fell as darkness moved in, and it was a seasonable 25 degrees when we arrived at our destination.

We spent the night at Rick and Helen's (Earl's step brother's house). Surprisingly, we both slept very well. We gave them our Christmas present to them early - our old iMac setup. When we bought the new computers, we decided not to sell the iMac and printer that we had but thought that they would enjoy them instead. So we packed up the whole thing and put a big bow on it and there you are. I know that they're going to enjoy it very much, and at the very least it'll provide another excuse for our to stay in touch with each other better.

We spent Christmas Eve at Earl's dad's house. He's doing much better in the health department and their seemed to be an festive electricity in the air, as everyone exchanged pleasantries. I must honestly say that I had an absolutely wonderful time down there. Hugs and kisses were exchanged, warm feelings were shared and presents were passed all around. It is a beautiful thing to be accepted at the in-laws so well.

We did our usual mad dash home, leaving Philly around 8:00 to arrive at 1:00 a.m., just in time to get everything set and hit the hay. Earl and I were up early like the little kids that we are and opened presents. A lot of wonderful gifts. I'll have to model my new clothes and Aussie jacket for the blog. Plus I'm not a proud member of the iPod society. I'm eager to get that going.

We entertained all day today. My sister and her friend, along with my Dad and his girlfriend got here around 11:00, we enjoyed brunch with them and exchanged gifts. They were off around 3:00 and my mom arrived right on their heels. More exchanging of gifts and more great food.

All in all it was a wonderful day. The holidays mean a lot of different things to different people. To me, they are about family. I am a truly blessed person to have such a loving, supportive and caring family and group of friends surrounding us. I'm honored to have my loving partner at my side. I thank Mother and Father God for their gifts every day.

This is truly the most wonderful time of the year.

Happy Holidays to all!


I've posted pictures from our holiday gathering.

There are many times when I crank on my blog and just rant about how screwed up the world is today. Times are changing. People are rude. Folks are stupid. Blah blah blah.

Today isn't one of those days.

Earl and I decided to do some last minute Christmas shopping while we're down here visiting his family outside of Philadelphia. We stopped at the local mall, I believe it's called Neshaminy Mall (which has a Chick-Fil-A, by the way) and made a tour of the big three anchor stores - Boscov's, Strawbridges (we call it Kaufmann's back home) and Sears.

Sears was Sears. Apparently its not where America Shops as much, because it was not busy at all. But the service folks were friendly and we were able to find a DVD player dirt cheap. For some reason I've always equated the typical New York City accent with "rough and tumble". Harsh. I find the Philly accent to be similar, but not quite as harsh. So once I get past the accent used to wish me a happy holidays, I'm good with it.

We then went to Boscov's, which I find delightful simply because it feels like a store from about 15 or 20 years ago, but with modern clothes and such. I'm going to continue to seek out Boscov's on shopping excursions. Again, the shoppers were pleasant and the cashier was friendly as well. Strangers were exchange well wishes, and that does warm the heart for all involved.

Then we went to Strawbridges, which is owned by the same company that owns Kaufmann's back home. A cashier, from another department, tried to alleviate congestion in the line we were standing in by moving us to another register, which had a longer line. I don't know what she was trying to accomplish, but we wished her a Happy Holidays anyways as we moved back to the line we were originally standing in. Under normal circumstances, the people that moved out the line to the other register would have been forced to the back of the line by the others and would have been poo-poohed. "So sad. So stupid." But no, we all decided to let everyone back in their original place in line. Holiday spirit and all. Again, Merry Christmases were shared with everyone involved and smiles were exchanged.

Oh, by the way, Boscov's and Strawbridges both get major geek points for using their old NCR cash registers year after year and just reaccessorizing them with the latest checkout gadget and software instead. Sears, who replaces their registers every six or seven years, loses points for yet again upgrading their equipment but doing nothing to improve the software.

Why am I telling you all of this? Because it warms my heart a bit just to see that in the flurry of all this crass commercialism that has become bigger than the holiday itself, that the decency, cordial behavior and spirit of the holidays continue to live on. Despite the red or black ink on the ledger.

Enjoy the holidays.

As I was taking the time to catch on the world's events today, I noticed a little furry face plastered all over the cable news networks and the internet. He's a little kitten, just a cute as can be. He was in a carrying case, around eight weeks old, marveling at the world. Come to find out, he cost $50,000. And he's a clone.

I find this very sad for a number of reasons. First of all, and most importantly, cloning is not an exact science by any stretch of the imagination. There's about a million and a half things that can go wrong, and since cloning is very new, we don't know what can happen down the road to something that is cloned. Health risks, trauma... who knows? Dolly the sheep, the first cloned creature if I recall correctly, only lived six years. Her species' average life span is 12 years.

Secondly, the woman that had this little guy cloned from his, well, donor because she missed her beloved pet so much. I get the feeling that she's under the delusion that her cherished pet of 17 years is back from the dead. Of course, this is purely my belief, but I don't think reincarnation works that way. Personally, I don't believe that pets even reincarnate. They're already perfect. They have no need to reincarnate the way humans do. Humans reincarnate so we can continue to experience life and learn lessons. She's almost cheating the memory of her deceased pet by trying to Xerox him. Let him live on in her memory. Listen for and enjoy his spirit when he comes to visit, scampering around from The Other Side. Don't cheapen his death by thinking you can play God and make a duplicate, because that's not what's happening here. You're not fooling anyone.

Thirdly, can you imagine the pressure this little kitten is going to be up against? He's going to be expected to behave exactly as his predecessor, because after all, he should be a duplicate copy of him. Any chance of him being himself in any way different than her former pet is going to be discouraged. This could make him very unhappy. Maybe "Fluffy version 1.0" didn't like Meow Mix, but "Fluffy version 2.0" does. So sorry, you're stuck with Friskies because that's what "you" always liked before. That's just mean. And delusional.

And lastly, the rich old bag spent $50,000 to have her cat cloned. $50,000! FIFTY THOUSAND DOLLARS!! Can you just take a moment and imagine how many cats and dogs could be rescued, or even just given more time to live at the animal shelter? There are thousands upon thousands of abandoned, abused and discarded pets that are just looking for a happy home, with a clock ticking away in the background. Even a $10,000 donation would help the local animal shelter immensely. But this old bat spent $50,000 to have her own designer kitten made. It makes me sick.

We Americans seem to be going too far away from nature and the natural order of things lately. The world is getting very weird. We're forgetting our roots. We're becoming very selfish. I hope the little kitten I saw today on the news grows up to be a happy and healthy cat in a loving home. And I hope he gets all the love he deserves. I just wish he didn't have to grow up in such a fushed place and time.

I'm writing this blog entry from work as I'm basically grazing throughout the day. It's the annual holiday luncheon - and everyone has brought in cookies, taco dip, chocolate goodies and much much more. Earl and I (well, mostly Earl) made Swedish Meatballs. He added his own special touch to the gravy. I'll have to get him to share the recipe on his blog.

There's no eating healthy today. Hell, there's no eating healthy for the rest of the year! Of course I'm washing all this healthy food down with a diet Pepsi. As if that cancels out all the calories and carbs. Good thing I'm in a "I don't give a damn" sort of attitude. It goes along well with fa, la, la, la, la.

It's a jolly good time of the year!

Earl and I hosted his company Holiday party this evening. I was a little nervous about the whole affair, given that it was going to be at our house, with caterers and everything. Its sometimes a little weird to be the boss' "wife", when actually I'm the boss' husband (I actually like the term husbear). I occasionally have these nightmares of being at some socialite's luncheon, where all the executive wives go like in the 1950s, and I win the centerpiece and have my name on a card tied with pink ribbon. We eat chipped beef, drink tea out of little tea cups and talk about charity events. The ladies mock me in my 501s and flannel shirt. They just don't get me.

But the party was nothing like that. It was just a plain fun get together. Earl has put together a good team at his office and he has many reasons to be proud of them all. I know I'm proud of him. It was nice to celebrate the holiday. It's good to be able to call them friends.

And so this morning at 7:42 a.m. was the official Winter Solstice. The days will start getting longer. Mother Earth is reborn, as a little more light springs forth each day. The time of light has arrived. This is indeed a joyous time. Happy Yule!

Back when I was a baby blogger, I wrote this blog entry around this time of year. In fact, I'm proud to say that it's my very first blog entry, back before the days of blogger and I handcoded each blog entry page on my own. I don't think ever made it to the site, though. I thought I'd drag out the old chestnut and share it properly.

~~~~~

Deck The Halls With Vomit
December 16, 2001

This Christmas marks the sixth festive holiday season that Earl and I have been together. Let's see... 1996 was 1, 1997 was 2, 1998 was 3, 9, 00, 01, yep it's the sixth holiday season together. I always lose track, because our fifth anniversary is the day after Christmas, so that makes six.

Where were we now. Oh yes, it's the holiday season once again in our merry little household. The tree is decorated so festively. The outside lights have been up since the weekend after Thanksgiving, and are now blowing fuses left and right. (I don't know whose idea it was to decorate the 25 foot pine tree in the middle of our yard, but why did we put the connecting plugs at the top?) The tinny little caroling voices are screaming through Mr. High Fidelity and No Bass Speaker in the mall. Jingle BELLS Jingle BELLS, JINGLE ALL THE WAY. All of these are wonderful clues that it's the most wonderful time of the year. But the real cincher on the arrival of holiday spirit is my partner Earl. God love him, his body just falls apart at the thought of the holidays. It's like his warranty has expired or something.

Our first Christmas together, he warned me. "I always get sick around the holidays. Actually Rick (his youngest brother) and I take turns, he gets sick one year, I get sick the next." And to think I was marrying into this festive little family the day after Christmas! The giddiness of it all! Because the way the holidays fell that year and because our families weren't quite adjusted to their newest couple, Earl went to Pennsylvania for his family's Christmas, I went up north to my folks and then met up with him Christmas afternoon. "I was sick yesterday, but I feel great today, since you're here sweetheart."

So I made it through a holiday season without actually witnessing "The Near Death holiday experience".

The following year he was just stopped up in the sinuses a little bit. I reminded him, "Isn't it Rick's turn?"

"Aren't you cute," he replied, and proceeded to suck up the entire boxes of Kleenex into his nose. Had I not been holding his baby niece, she probably would have followed the Kleenex. The honk was heard as far away as Peoria, Illinois.

I don't even want to mention the holiday season of 1999. Let's just say I should have decorated the toilet seat instead of the bay window.

Last year, as we were getting ready for a Christmas party at my father's, he broke the news to me.

"I'm having a stroke".

"So soon? We haven't even gotten the Christmas shopping done yet and the bills won't be here for a month, how could you be having a stroke already?"

"You know, you're going to feel really rotten when I drop dead into this wretched egg nog."

"How do you know you're having a stroke? Do you feel like Grandma Walton in that 1960s version of the Waltons movie?" I asked, trying to sound sincere.

"You know, you could show a little more compassion for a man who's having a stroke. My left arm is numb."

"Well then, it can't be a stroke if it's your left side. It's got to be a heart attack", I said, with all the wisdom of Nurse Needles.

"No, I'm not having a heart attack", he nearly hissed back at me. I didn't even know he could hiss. "I'm fine. Don't worry about me."

So I didn't.

I don't like to sound insincere or uncaring, but I think that the inner child in him gets so worked up with excitement about the holidays that his body can't take it or something. Maybe it's because I have a somewhat twisted philosophy on sickness. I simply refuse to be sick. I won't do it. I won't catch a cold, I won't harbor pneumonia and I refuse to take part in a flu epidemic. I am going to trudge through life healthy and that's just the way it is. I try to introduce him to my philosophies on the matter, but he's not having any of it.

This morning I noticed he started sniffling, so I suggested "Try some of the Echinacea. It suppose to boost your immune system. Or maybe you want to start building up on Cold-Ezze".

"I hate that stuff. It tastes awful."

"Yes, but sweetheart, maybe it'll herd off this cold that you seem to be catching.", I replied, trying my best to be the doting lover.

"No, I'm going to have a cold. It's because of the holidays."

Tonight we went on one of our annual "Ride Through The Snobby Section of Town and See The Lights" rides. Since today was such a beautiful, mild day, I took the opportunity to vacuum and clean the car, and I put an air freshener in it.

"That air freshener is a bit over powering, isn't it?", he nearly snarled.

"Why don't you wrap it up in a napkin and put it in the glove compartment?"

He wrapped it up like a dead minnow and shoved it in the glove compartment, underneath all the manuals and everything. He then rolled down the car window and hung his head out like a sick dog. Since we live in Upstate New York, and it's winter, I needn't point out that it was 30 degrees. "You are going to get sick if you keep up the dog routine. Shut the window!"

As we held hands and enjoyed the beautiful Christmas displays, I noticed he was sniffling more and more. So we headed home, had a mug of hot chocolate each, and then I announced I was going upstairs to update the website.

"I'm going to watch a little television".

I had just started up the internet connection when he dropped the news.

"My leg is numb."

Always the concerned lover, I went downstairs and dug my fingernails into his leg.

"Ouch! What the hell are you trying to do to me?"

"I thought your leg was numb. I wanted to be sure.", I replied, trying to sound as authorative as Marcus Welby, M.D. "If you don't feel good, why don't you lie down?"

"People lie down when they're tired. I'm not tired. I'm numb." he said, a little exasperated.

"You didn't sleep well last night, maybe you need some rest." I suggested.

And so he did. He actually took my advice. I just went and checked on him... he's snoring away, once again making the cows down the road restless with all that noise. I just know he's going to be all sniffly this week. And being the loving lover, I'll be there pushing the Echinacea and Cold-Ezze... after all, what are lovers for? But isn't it Rick's turn this year?

Because Earl and I have been very, very busy getting ready for the holidays, running from store to store, mall to mall, restaurant to restaurant and party to party, I've decided to jump with both feet into a new project.

I've begun rebuilding jpnearl.com from scratch.

It's an excellent opportunity for me to brush up on my coding skills as well as do some serious house cleaning around here. We've had the site for a number of years, but it's often played second fiddle to my road geek site, UpstateNYroads.com. It's time for a major overhaul. Clean out the cobwebs. Spruce up a bit.

I'm currently working on the main page, plus I've tinkered around with my blog template a little bit (you may have noticed). We're going to be adding some new features over the next couple of months, including a guestbook and feedback page, some other tidbits about our personal lives and perhaps the webcams again. And lots of photos. LOTS of photos. I've also decided to focus on one blog, and this is it. Geeky stuff, political thoughts, life in general, its all going to be in one place.

Earl and I are working hard to experience everything life has to offer. There's no reason for us to keep it to ourselves.

As I mentioned a while back, Earl and I both have notebook computers... I have a PowerBook and he has an iBook. They offer the versatility of being wildly mobile, essentially doing computer stuff anywhere in the house or even doing it in public at a local coffee house or cafe, yet offer the power of a regular desktop computer.

Tonight is the first night that I've taken the advantage of that portability to the bedroom. Now I could get all kinky and say that I have a webcam focused on the bed and you can click on a link to see what we're up to, and while I'm sure that would be quite popular, it's not the case. At least not right now.

No, I'm doing some surfing while Earl is sleeping right next to me. Not ready to call it a night when he was, this seemed like a fair compromise. Kind of like Mr. and Mrs. Brady sitting up in bed and reading. Small wonder they didn't have any children after they got married, and no, Oliver doesn't count.

So while I have Earl snoring to my left, Tom contently purring at my feet, and the whirr of the fan invading my thoughts (it masks the ringing in my ears that I constantly hear when I'm trying to fall asleep), I'm chatting it up with some friends on Yahoo! Messenger and surfing ebay, I'm doing it while enjoying the comfort of my bed and my family.

I heartily recommend that everyone try whispering in the dark some time.

With Christmas official a week away, and the holidays in full swing, one can't help feel the warm, fuzzy feeling in the air. The glow of children's cheeks as they sing Christmas carols. The sweet smell of egg nog and brandy, filling the glasses of the loved ones surrounding you. The warmth of the fire, crackling happily in the fireplace, as the family gathers and shares memories of holidays gone by.

That's the way the holidays should be. And I must say that we're getting there.

Of course the holidays are not complete without a madcap experience at several malls. Earl and I hit two malls in Albany yesterday to finish up the shopping. I've adopted a new activity to liven up the fun. If a person is chattering away on their cell phone and completely oblivious to the people and activity around them, I trip them up. Yeah, I can be an asshat.

There was a customer ahead of us at Boscov's yesterday that gave one a new purpose for living. She seemed like she's enjoyed a good life. She was alone, catching up on her holiday shopping and enjoying the local Brownies troop singing Christmas carols. She chatted merrily with other customers. She is 100 years old. She wrote a check, and when she presented her driver's license for identification, the cashier noticed that she had aged a century. "Yeah, I know, I'm 100." She then quipped, "I just had my driver's license renewed - it's good until 2011." She'll probably be around to renew it again!

Tonight was the annual Christmas party for my Dad's side of the family. Not as many people attended this year, for various reasons, but it's nice to experience the holiday joy with others.

As long as they stay off their cell phones.

Now that we have DirecTV and TiVo behaving correctly, Earl and I have been starting to get into our old routine of the television shows - "Judging Amy", "The West Wing" and "American Dreams". Notice that I've left "Will and Grace" off the list. I figure that show is too far gone, and too insulting to my gay sensibilities to give it any attention. The fat lady sang long ago on that one.

"Judging Amy" has a whole new set of writers and while the shows has a slightly different feel to it from last season, I must say that I am enjoying it very much. My interest in the show waned briefly a couple of weeks ago, mainly because it was full of so much angst and turmoil that I was very depressed after watching it. But it bounced back the following week, despite heart attacks, M-S and other assorted plot line inducing drama.

I was very skeptical about "The West Wing", especially since there was a threat of an asteroid obliterating the planet this week, but I just find Allison Janney too cool for words still. With her unlikely promotion from Press Secretary to Chief of Staff, I'm sure she doesn't have time to perform "The Jackal" as she did in the first season, but I'll manage. We always have it on the Season One DVD.

I wasn't too interested in "American Dreams" after last season, especially since the 60s timeline was getting a little screwy and again, a little too much drama going on, but when I saw Luke with a full beard in all his hunky glory, they earned a spot on the TiVo Season Pass list again. It's not a bad show still, though its a little heavy on the weak acting.

My shaved head friend Thom mentioned "Airline" on A & E over a year ago, and I've been hooked ever since, and now I have Earl hooked on the show. It's amazing how rude, stupid and unbelievable some airline passengers really are. I'll stick to the Jeep, thank you very much, if only to avoid sitting next to a woman eating a sandwich made out of some exotic animal like Yak.

I've decided that my head is filled to the rim with Brim. And other assorted crap. As usual, I have too much crap floating around in my brain. I think it's because I've made a conscious effort, my entire life, to remember everything that I possibly can. I have more useless knowledge than just about anyone I know.

For example, a schoolmate of mine, one of the few I graduated with that attended the same school grades K-12 just celebrated a birthday on December 10. Happy birthday Janice Gray. I have no idea why I remember you birthday, save for the fact that I drew your name in a birthday gift exchange in Mrs. Hayden's second grade class. I haven't seen you since graduation and I hope that life is treating you well. Know that I celebrate your birthday every year because for some reason its clogging up my RAM.

I remember that the second exit north of the Florida-Georgia line on Interstate 95 is for Kingsland/St. Marys, Ga. And the first sign I saw displaying this was made of fiberglass. That was in 1988. I've only been in Georgia twice.

I've had a song stuck in my head for the past two days. It's an obscure ditty by Frida (the dark haired one from Abba) and Phil Collins. It's called "Here We'll Stay" and was the follow up to Frida's hit single "I Know There's Something Going On." It was a flop.

I remember that the washing machine we had when I was five years old had a "Lock 'N Spin" feature. I can still vividly recall the first time I stepped foot on a school bus, my first day of kindergarten. I sat in the first emergency exit seat on the right as you walked towards the back of the bus. It was bus 43.

When I was meditating this morning, I made an effort to recall my earliest memories. I remember sitting between my maternal grandmother and grandfather, in the front seat of their 1968 Caprice. I remember getting my favorite stuffed animal, Floppy, as I came home from the hospital after having spinal meningitis. I was just past my second birthday.

I can still recite television commercials from the 1970s. "Mr. Ling, how do you get your clothes so clean? Ancient Chinese Secret. My husband, some hot shot, here's his Ancient Chinese Secret, Calgon. Calgon softeners water so your detergents cleans better blah, blah, blah... we need more Calgon! Ancient Chinese Secret, huh?" I've never used Calgon in my life. But I can tell you that the washing machine in the commercial was made by General Electric and the lint filter was missing.

I must have an obsession with laundry or something.

Is it possible that the brain can only hold so much? Do we remember only so much data, and then it falls out all over the place, and we end up a fool spewing worthless facts to make room for what lies ahead?

Whatever the reason, if anyone needs the Honeycombs cereal commercial sung at them, drop me an e-mail, maybe you'll catch it when my brains fall out. Honeycomb's big, yeah yeah yeah, its not small, no no no...

I just had the honor of eating the best sandwich I've had in a very, very long time. Earrl is usually responsible for our lunches, when he's in town, and today was no exception. While many wives/husbands/partners would make a simple sandwich, a few slices of lunch meat, a slab of cheese and a glob of mustard or mayo, Earl always takes the time to make lunch somewhat special. A few garlic stuffed olives as garnish, a little pickle, a lot of TLC.

Well today he did something a little bit different with the sandwich and I just loved it. Today I had roast beef and cheese on whole wheat, with coleslaw instead of mustard or mayo.

Oh my insert favorite deity here.

It was out of this world and a welcomed treat. When Earl and I owned our hot dog stand, The City Pound, back in '99, we would routinely feature a "slaw dog" on our daily special - a hot dog on a bun with coleslaw for the topping. It was pretty good, and a taste that I truly enjoyed.

Today's sandwich surpassed that by a mile.

They say love is grand. I completely agree, especially when the grand is accompanied by so many little things as well.

Bon appetit!

Earl and I continued our month long Christmas shopping extravaganza tonight in Syracuse. We added something new to the fun this year, supper at The Little Gem Diner.

The Little Gem Diner is a landmark of sorts in Syracuse, having withstood the test of time and hanging around several decades. It's well known to the locals and visitors alike. Situated just off busy Interstate 690 on Spencer St., The Little Gem Diner is one of those places that looks like time sort of skipped over. It's a trailer type diner, with a long counter up one side and booths up the other. The waitresses are the friendly sorts, calling you "hun" and "honey". There's no formalities here, just some really, really good homemade food that harkens back to "the good old days". Earl and I are always on the lookout for a great diner, and it was wonderful to be able to experience The Little Gem Diner. But there's another reason we went there.

My grandmother worked at The Little Gem Diner for 24 years. If memory serves correctly, she worked there until 1972 or 1973.

I had very vague memories of the diner before going there this evening. I knew where it was, I knew it was the old trailer type, and I barely remember my grandmother either working there or taking us there to "visit the girls".

A flood of memories came back to me as we sat down tonight. The two dessert cases, one behind each end of the counter. The mirrored door that led to the "rest rooms and phone" area. The 'foot ledge', as I liked to call it, that was the same color and pattern as the floor, under the stools that lined the counter.

I could almost sense my grandmother's presence tonight while we eating supper. "How's everything, John?"

It was the best diner food we've had in a long time. Hell, it was the best food we've had out in a long time. Cheeseburgers with mushrooms and bacon with a side of fries, wet with gravy. Nothing frozen. Nothing "corporate" tasting. Good, hearty diner food. The staff was friendly and the customers were content. We'll be back again soon.

Merry Christmas, Gram. I miss you.

Well we're back from the company Christmas party. Earl and I were dressed to the teeth, did our best to be charismatic (Earl doesn't need to try very hard) and we went and did the whole company Christmas party thing.

I had a splendid time, put a lot of faces to the anonymous voices I talk to on a daily basis and enjoyed a great meal.

I work for a wonderful company. I am a lucky guy. Life is good.

Tonight is the company Christmas party. And while I'm sure I'll have a wonderful time, I have to admit that I'm a little bit nervous about the whole thing, being my first social gathering with my new co-workers.

Will I drop a glass in the punch?

Will I sneeze on a waiter?

Will I pee myself?

Will I same something stupid?

Holiday office parties are always "interesting", no matter who you are or where you work. I'm looking forward to it, but I have to admit I'm a little nervous.

Having completely ignored my diet (and my health in general) for the past two weeks or so, I decided to do a little research on the internet today. First of all, I wanted to know what "empty calories" were. Actually, I know what they are, I just wanted some examples.

Apparently it's everything I've eaten over the past two weeks, including my little addiction to Fast Break bars. That popped me out of my little sugar stupor.

The buzzword of the day is fiber. I need more beans. Beans, beans, they're good for your heart... well, apparently they're good for the whole body, not just the heart. According to this site, a high fiber diet may lower cholesterol, flush out some of the bad stuff and make taking a dump that much more pleasant. Sounds good to me. I guess it pays to know your shit.

I think I may be suffering from an addiction. While many people think that I may take too many "happy pills", being as jazzed about life as I have been lately (so sorry, I'm actually stone cold sober and have never taken anything like that in my life, this is all natural), it's not drugs or alcohol or anything like it that I've become addicted to.

It's Reese's Fast Break bars.

OH MY INSERT FAVORITE DEITY HERE.

I can not get enough of these little bars of chocolate and peanut butter goodness. It's Snickers without the annoying snick. It galaxies bigger than a Milky Way. And I already have my own Almond Joy.

No, no. It has to be Reese's Fast Break bars and I will absolutely accept no substitutes.

I was craving a bar this morning, so I made my way to the break room at work, where I noticed in the candy machine that there are no Fast Break bars. After sobbing for a few moments and then realizing that no, I could not go down on the street and buy one from a junkie, I decided to have the standard Reese's Peanut Butter Cup.

It was o.k. It did not satisfy my craving. While tasty, it did not bring the near outta control, dare I say 'orgasmic', rush that a Fast Break bar brings. So immediately after work I headed to Byrne Dairy (read Wawa, AM/PM Mini Mart, Express Mart) and grabbed myself a Fast Break.

Ah, so good.

Then I turned it over and read the nutritional content. 250 calories in that sucker. Hmmm, the same as eating two breakfasts. I didn't make it past the first line of calorie information. I don't want to know. I don't need to know. Actually, I don't care.

I'm just lovin' the Fast Break. Dude, wanna share?

I am convinced that whomever invented the microwave was into S&M. Yes, I know it's suppose to be the height of kitchen convenience, but I suffer with a love/hate relationship with the Radarange.

And yes, I still call it a Radarange. As in Amana Radarange. For those that don't remember the world before Britney Spears, the first popular brand of microwave was made by Amana. And it was called a Radarange. Hell, Amana might still make a Radarange for all I know. I think they were going for the Kleenex=Tissue concept much like Frigidaire did with the refrigerator. And while the name didn't really carry over to today's kitchen, it stuck with an old farm boy like me.

I remember the first Radarange I saw - my grandmother had one for as long as I can remember (maybe 1973 or 1974). You had to lock the door before it would turn on. There may have been lead gloves and lead over the private parts involved, but I could be mixing that memory up with a hospital visit or something. Anyway, It had two huge dials that lit up when they were activated - the top one measured the time in seconds (up to 3 minutes or so), the bottom measured time in minutes, up to 20 minutes or so. It was a beast of a thing, requiring two strong, strapping, handsome men to carry it on the rare occasions it had to be moved. Lights dimmed in several counties when it fired up. I'm convinced that the local nuclear power plants were installed to keep the thing running. But it lived for 20 years or so. It would heat up spaghetti lickity-split and even had a fan to send out pleasant smelling reminders of what was inside the "metal cavity", as it was described in the manual.

My folks won one in a raffle several years later. It was a little more sophisticated, having three temperature settings -- scald, melt and incinerate. But it did what it was suppose to do and that was to pop corn without having to use a popcorn popper.

Back in the early days of Microwave Cuisine, you could buy actual plastic popcorn poppers that you just dumped some corn in, put the whole thing in the Radarange and set it to do its thing. My mother misread the directions and put it on for 12 minutes or so. It ended up a big plastic blob, without the popcorn inside by the time the little mechanical bell dinged, but hey, she gets an E for effort.

Back to the S&M. I am eating supper as I write this blog entry. I have reheated some leftover chili that Earl had left explicit instructions to eat while he was away on business. At least he's given up the color coding of my food (blue for breakfast, lavendar for lunch, strawberry for supper). Just kidding. Anyways, I put a bowl of chili in the Radarange, hit "reheat" and went to business online. I was prompted to stir, so I stirred. I was prompted to stand, so I stood. I was prompted to spin, so I spun.

I'm now eating my chili. It's stone cold in the middle, and scalding hot in random locations on the outside.

I bet the old Amana Radarange wouldn't have done that.

As I mentioned a couple of days ago, I'm working on growing my beard. I was originally going to participate in "Beards for a Cause", but I decided that I couldn't commit to a year of not trimming my beard and still keep peace in the family and workplace, so I decided not to go that route. So it looks like I'll pass on the whole Grizzly Adams motif (as if I could actually grow something like that without looking like a derelict.) But I have made a commitment to myself and have decided to keep on growing until at least May 1.

There's a couple of reasons I'm going on about this a little bit. For starters, I'm terribly vain and I enjoy talking about myself whenever the opportunity arises. I don't think of myself as prissy, just pretty.

Secondly, people have begun noticing that I now have a beard. I don't know if that's a good thing or not, since I've been working on growing it since October 29 and it's now December 6. I was asked today at work, not once but twice, if I'm growing my beard out. Of course I gave them the whole spiel about growing it out full but keeping it shaped. Bulky, not frizzy, and my other aspirations.

I sort of blame the whole beard experience (and my near obsession with it) on one of my fifth grade teachers. My elementary school had just started the "Enrichment Program" and I was one of the many guinea pig students. I guess we were the freaks that were absolutely bored with pedestrian elementary school tasks like multiplication and division, spelling and band, so they came up with this program for us artistic/creative types, where we could express our other wise hidden talents. Our Enrichment teacher's name was Mr. Rayburn. He was in his mid 20s and to me, absolutely handsome. I was eleven years old at the time and I knew he was the most gorgeous creature to walk the face of the earth. He was about six foot tall, had red hair and the fullest, most beautiful auburn beard I had ever seen. He seemed like the cool type... the kind that related well with kids, knew how to be hip in 1979 and the sort of guy that you could call by his first name, even though he was a teacher. I was crushed because one day he came in clean shaven and he let a couple of girls in the class touch his bare face. I hated those girls, because not only did they get to touch Mr. Rayburn's face, they also commented on how smooth and handsome it was. I wanted to slap them silly. He grew his mustache back but it wasn't the same. He disappeared after that school year. I ran into him once when I was in seventh grade when he was visiting from another school, and there he was, bearded again. I haven't seen him since.

So I guess I come by my whole beard/mustache/goatee thing honestly. And for now, it just keeps growing and growing and growing...
Malcolm Rayburn

Earl and I decided to a little bit of holiday shopping yesterday, opting to head to the Waterloo Premium Outlets in, well, Waterloo. Waterloo Premium Outlets is a big behemoth of a shopping experience. It's all outside, save for a food court the size of a postage stamp. Now that I think about it, the food court is very small when compared to the rest of the plaza, which has over 100 name brand stores plopped on a piece of farm land in the middle of nowhere. So we packed up the Jeep with the necessary survival gear; water, slim jims, hats and gloves and other goodies one would save for the Iditarod and headed for a the promise of a joyous shopping experience.

Since the outlet center is entirely outdoors, I instantly noticed that the smokers that have banned from anything with a roof in New York State have headed to this cloud caressed monstrosity. Naturally, being the scorned smokers they are, they're surly. They'll stomp on your foot without a second thought if you block the door while they're headed outside for a pollution break. And they're loud and raucous, they're scratchy throats shrieking incomprehensible conversation at Airbus decibels.

Another aspect we had not considered was that it wasn't going to be very gay there. The gays don't head for the bargain basement bric-a-brac like the straights do, save for the nasty looking lesbians in the Ford F350. O.k., o.k., I'm exaggerating, as we found a similarly minded bearish couple like ourselves that spotted us instantly. We kept within several paces of each other after the initial eye contact. They were cute. Perhaps there is safety in numbers as it's possible we were all afraid of more truck riding lesbians arriving, or even surly smokers. Though we never got their names, their presence was a welcomed site. I made a point of driving by their car as they were leaving and giving them the peace sign. They waved back.

We did pick up some lovely Christmas ornaments at the Lenox outlet. One woman grabbed an ornament out of Earl's hand but he has the sense to fight back like a lion going after a piece of meat. She let out a yell and then left to howl at the moon or something.

All in all, it was a memorable once a year experience (thank insert favorite diety here) that maybe we'll skip next year. Unless the good looking guys are there again.

This is a first in the almost three years that I have been maintaining a blog. I am writing it in public. I'm not referring to the times that I sat in my car at lunch time, windows steamed up, internet connection 'borrowed' from an unsuspecting user in a well-to-do neighborhood.

No, I mean Earl and I are doing it RIGHT NOW in public. We're sharing a table, notebooks back to back, at Barnes and Noble in DeWitt.

I have a tazo chai to my right, the remnants of a chocolate cookie to my left, Powerbook square and center.

I've checked my e-mail. I've tried to read my favorite usenet newsgroups, without much luck due to being in public. And Earl and I have chatted with a friendly older couple that were very impressed with our notebooks. They have deicded to become an Apple family. We welcomed them to the fold.

Looking around this little cafe, I'm noticing six notebook users, excluding ourselves. Five of them are using some type of Mac.

I guess we're all snobs.

I've made a bit of a change in my radio listening habits. All of the intense listening I did of talk radio up to the Presidential election has burned me out on the format for a little while. Oh, I still eagerly listen to Sirius satellite radio, as I will never go back to the cookie cutter crap that's populating "local" radio these days, but I'm listening more to the dance music stations and less to the talk stuff. I do enjoy OutQ as well, but sometimes all gay radio can be a little too much gay.

My favorite music station on Sirius is Sirius 66, The Beat. It reminds me of my old radio Program Director days of Wow FM, "The Beat of Central New York." Looking back, I realize that Wow FM was way too clubby for the market it served (and probably way too gay as well), but boy was it fun to explore new club music. It's ironic, but as Wow FM became more accepted by mainstream listeners, the less fun it was to pick out music for the format. Listeners would expect more MTV-esque music and less edgy club music you couldn't hear elsewhere.

Sirius 66 sticks to the clubby stuff.

They've been playing a song for the past couple of weeks that I have absolutely fallen in love with. It's your typical 123-125 beats per minute dance tune with lead female vocalist, but I find the song so damn catchy. It's called ""Get Up Stand Up" by the Stellar Project, featuring Brandi Emma. Brandi's vocals are very similar to the lead vocals (by Jan Johnston) on B.T's "Remember", one of my favorite songs of all time. The lyrics actually have meaning, at least to me, and they're not all angry and rappy. The song actually makes me feel good and lifts my spirits. I don't know if the song is being played on local radio stations, but damn, I'm glad it's on Sirius 66. I'm also glad its on iTunes!

In fact, listening to all this dance music has inspired me to publish my first iMix on iTunes. I have no desire to be a radio program director again, but once in a while I do long for the chance to spin some high energy and retro tunes in a club. Until the opportunity comes along, I'm going to share some iMixes on iTunes.

This morning I awoke to a 'pitter patter' type sound. Knowing there were no children running around the house, and since the sound was complimented by content purring near my right ear, I decided that it must have been the sound of rain.

And raining, it certainly was. Buckets and buckets of rain, falling from the sky, making a sound on the roof that simply can not be duplicated, no matter how they try. Sure, the CD can do its best imitation, even in quadrophonic stereo sound, but that's just the sound of rain. It's missing the soul, the magic of the sound of rain.

There is something inherently magical about the weather. Mother Earth, doing her work keeping her domain in balance. Washing away negativity with the rain. Reassuring her creatures with a blanket of snow. Charging our souls with lightning. Caressing us with her positivity in the wind.

Yes, the world around us full of wonder and magick.

I relish every opportunity I have to just sit back, close my eyes, and listen.