Rusty's Balcony

Pedicure Me!

2008-07-23T19:29:00.002-05:00

You know your feet need work when you go on a date with a guy who has a foot fetish and he tells you to put your shoes back on.

It is even worse when the next day you are at a bar with some friends and they say, "Hey, Rusty, you really need a pedicure."

So the guy with the foot fetish – he can be picky. Feet are his thing, and I am ok with that. I'll file and moisturize next time!

But friends at a bar? Is that really fair?

I will admit that I do go for a pedicure from time to time just because I love the foot massage and they get to places around the nails that I never take the time to reach. As much as appreciate their tender care, taking the place of a pedicure technician (?) would not be one of my personal aspirations.

One time I decided to have a manicure while I was at there. It had been a long day and I decided to splurge. As usual, the lady did an excellent job on the feet and I wanted to be carried out because I didn't want my feet to be sullied by the dirt or any dust my flip-flops may disturb while I walked.

But then! Oh yes, there is a definite BUT THEN!

But then, the lady started working on my hands.

With the SAME instruments she used on my feet!

I have one set of grooming gear that I have been using since I think 1992 or 1993 – whenever Bryan gave them to me as a gift for being an usher in his wedding. Yes, I use them on both my hands and on my feet. Still, I was paying her good money to do my hands and feet up right!

I did not want my chemically altered toe-jam coming anywhere near my fingers. I know it has to be chemically altered because they get some much more out than I have ever been able to achieve on my own even with persistent effort. As pretty and buffed as my nails looked when I walked out of the office, it took several high-power scrubs under HOT water before my hands felt clean enough for me to consider using them for cooking or eating.

From now on, I'm going to have a "mani" person at one location and a "pedi" person at a different location and the twain shall never meet! And I'm going to pretend they don't share instruments.

Voyeur Me!

2008-07-23T18:33:00.001-05:00

My friends sometimes bring me into the most interesting conversations. One friend told me he found out after the fact that a former roommate's boyfriend used to stand outside his door and listen to him having sex. That person also discovered a location where he could look through the window and watch. We both found the acts to be more than a little creepy.

We also found it a bit of a turn-on and a more than a little bit flattering.

I find someone secretively being a voyeur disturbing, but the idea that he may get off by watching or listening to me excites me. Does that make me an exhibitionist or does it mean I have an enormous ego? The entire idea of watching and being watched led to a long discussion of what are the boundaries of voyeurism and exhibitionism. Is there a boundary at which one stops becoming a voyeur and is merely a vehicle for someone who is an exhibitionist? Likewise, does the point exist at which one is no longer an exhibitionist, but merely live porn for a voyeur?

As he and I discussed all the possibilities, we discussed each of them in depth. In the week since the conversation, I have not come to any better conclusions we did in the conversation. I can give the clinical definitions of each, but it is hard to distinguish the boundary – if there even has to be one. Perhaps exhibitionists just exist to provide an outlet for voyeurs – and vice-versa.

All I know is – if you are gonna watch me – tell me first! Boost my ego (and don't make me think you're a creep!)

Trapped in Hymnland

2008-07-12T13:29:00.001-05:00

This is my story. This is my song.

I just wish it were not my song in the middle of the night.

A classmate came into class today screeching one of my favorite hymns. Someone else asked what the song was, as she did not recognize it, so I sang a few bars so she would know it.

Since then a medley of classic hymns has filled my mind. More than just filled, as tune flowed from tune, my mind began to process the connections between the old hymns that they could pour out in such a constant manner without pause. That consideration put me on a search of tune composers to see how many of the hymns in my growing medley the same person composed. And that led me to my iTunes library to listen to some compositions a contemporary musician has created from phrases of hymns by some of the most prolific composers of the last century.

Meanwhile, I am listening to the latest cd from Moby. So far, the very contemporary alternative music has done nothing to move my humming away from 18th and 19th century church anthems.

That actually makes a tremendous amount of sense to me personally. The same hymns I am singing now are the ones that I grew up with in childhood and that I often turn to in times of stress. Whenever my back starts to spasm from tension, I sing hymns.

To be fair to the world, most of the time I sing them inside my own head. When I am certain I am alone I sing aloud: I sing a lot; I sing loudly; I just don’t sing well. As a result, I have tried to protect the world from my singing.

Whether sung aloud or silently, though, the old hymns bring a greater sense of comfort than the more modern melodies. So many of the modern praise tunes do more to create a mesmerized cultish atmosphere than to create an internalized sense of worship as the classically inspired songs of old do. As a non-musician, I cannot pinpoint the term, but I know the older songs contain a level of richness and depth not found in the contemporary worship songs.

The older songs call my soul to a place the newer songs have never let me reach.

The greatest complaint I have with the new songs is that they preach to me and never make me find the meaning; they tell me exactly what it is they want me to know. The old hymns bring one to a point of spirituality that opens one for a revelatory experience. The state of openness offers the chance for one to discover one’s own message rather than be hammered over the head with someone else’s message.

Now with all the hymns circling through my head, I am just thankful that “there is a song I love to hear” until “it is well with my soul.”

Girl Crack

2008-07-10T19:55:00.002-05:00

Plumbers are expected to show crack.

Guys with guts cannot find pants that fit in the right way, so when they bend over, a crack shows.

Men generally live in a world of oblivion as to the state of their clothes, so when the pants fall below the waist, it goes unnoticed as the crack airs out.

Crack is never acceptable with women.

No!

NEVER!

Today I saw girl crack twice!

Full on butt-crack.

Both of the women were thin and dressed fashionably. They just were not wearing clothes appropriate for the task at hand. One picked up her laundry basket; the other crawled on the floor. Neither one expected to present the show she gave.

Me - I just happened to look at the WRONG time.

Way wrong time.

Tonight I’m going to watch something “sciency” on one of the HD channels and have a few drinks. I want to see something fantastic to get my mind off the images seared onto my brain today.

Crabby Old Coot

2008-07-09T22:40:00.001-05:00

I think I have reached the point that I am now a crabby old coot.

I have found myself using a tone of voice and writing lately that I later think came across as sharp and harsh when I do not really mean to be. Often I have been asked a question or given a portion of information and I reply directly with as few words as possible.

It makes me wonder what the people who have been receiving the responses and emails think about me. I do not necessarily mean to be sharp and hope the people do not realize that I mean to be sharp, I am just getting my point across or my response complete in the shortest time.

Amazingly, I do not think the same tone has come across in my recent posts, so, kind readers – keep reading but do not call or email me or you may find that I am truly crabby.

Death Certificate?

2008-07-01T00:00:00.002-05:00

When do you declare an idea dead?

At the end of it’s rope.

Pushing up daisies.

Since my first round of college, I have periodically nursed a series of stories out of hibernation. Each time I dredge them up from the deeper memories of my brain, either the disk on which I had them stored had degraded to the point that they are no longer able to be retrieved or my imagination of the story has changed so much, the saved version provides little more than memories of the time I first put those words to paper, or in the most recent cases, screen.

Twenty-some years later and I’m back in college with absolutely no time to spend on creative writing, at least at the short story or novel length (I’m still trying to keep the blog going). Yet rather than concentrate on academic pursuits, my mind keeps drifting back to the exploits of Billy Chris, Mark, John, Matt, April Dawn, and Luke. Despite living in Austin, I have not found characters to match people I knew growing up in a small town. For such a reason Southern writers such as Eudora Welty and William Faulkner mined wealth from small town life.

Despite the regular visits back to the series of stories, I have not completed one to the point that I would consider it finished or even to the point of sharing. If the story has not matured in twenty-three years, is there yet hope for it?

I think hope still exists.

My brain will not let go of these stories. They tumble about in the vacant spaces between thoughts and sometimes they spill out. Because they live in memory, I believe they simply need a good editor. Somewhere between the now yellowed sheets of notebook paper and the floppy disks that no longer work, the real story waits to be composed.

Because the stories and characters keep taking up synaptic space, I refuse to fill out their death certificate or write the obituary.

Dreaming of Sleep

2008-06-30T01:00:00.001-05:00

More tasks than time
Challenge every day.
As such, precious moments -
Undedicated hours
Unclaimed seconds
Gleam beyond polished gold,
Sparkle above shined silver.

Mindless minutes
Recharge
Wear from sleepless nights -
Turbulent times without dreams
Or psychic relief.
Claim me back to lucidity
And simplest sanity.

Soul’s salvation,
Emotion’s energy,
Rational revelation upon
Eternity’s clock
Call habits to justify
Brain drain and cerebral calories.
Let me sleep early tonight.

Ding by Stereotype

2008-06-29T18:38:00.000-05:00

In the last week, I have gone without a single reason to rant. The only reason I for a rant was diminished by the fact that the person who hit my car so perfectly fit two driver stereotypes that there is no point in even going there.

In fact the driver so perfectly fit the stereotypes, I have started saying, “you know ‘who’ the driver was,” to people who ask me about it. So far everyone has said something to the effect of, “how ‘ *$^*# ’ was ‘ $@! ’?” (typing in symbols is tough – you never know where the ‘word’ ends and punctuation begins – but if you read carefully, you know what the symbols mean!) And so far, everyone has filled in the blanks correctly.

As a result, a rant on the subject of *$^*# drivers is pointless.

I’ve written about the song “Everyone’s a Little Bit Racist” from the musical Avenue Q before. One line says “racist jokes my be uncouth, but we laugh because they’re based on truth.” The dent in my car is proof positive, but it has been so often repeated, the gag is no longer funny.

Meanwhile, my car has an ouchie. Actually, it is barely a boo-boo, but I feel much less macho driving around in imperfection.

White House? Black House? Gray House?

2008-06-19T20:33:00.003-05:00

It should really come as no surprise that the Texas GOP, which gave us W. could come up with such a racially insulting campaign button, but I still find myself obsessing over the sheer ignorance that allows a person to actually make such an object. Still there it was, proudly displayed at the Texas Republican State Convention. Has the person not read a newspaper since 1964? Or do they still believe we can go back to a segregated society?

Conservative groups continue to put up a fight over GLBT issues and the marriage wars are going to continue for a number of years, but they lost the Civil Rights War decades ago.

I cannot imagine what button they would have created had Hillary won. I’m really still a little befuddled as to whom they fear more – a strong woman or a black man.

Republicans who would come up with such a button remind me of the Japanese soldier, discovered on a desert island in the Pacific years after World War II ended. He was prepared to fight anyone who stumbled upon the island, unaware that the battles were over and Japan was back in the mainstream of the world. Nothing about the real world around him had changed his fervor and oath to die for his homeland.

He had an excuse. Japanese language newspapers are not regularly dropped on desert islands in the Pacific. He simply, loyally, maintained his commitment to the oath he had sworn to his emperor.

No Republican at a state level convention can claim such ignorance.

The only explanation that remains is pure hatred, unmitigated intolerance of anything that is not “me,” a darkened soul. As much as I am angered by this behavior, deeper down, I pity the people who act such a way. Can you imagine living every day in a world that is so different from what you demand it be, knowing that society has bypassed your antiquated beliefs?

While fads and trends come and go, when society makes a shift in one direction, it rarely returns to a state prior to that shift. Civil rights and women’s rights are two shifts that have been made in the last 50 years that cannot be reversed. Certainly full measures of social justice for women and people of color have not been met in the United States, but the trend has reached a point of no return. With the realization of a global economy, “white” is no longer synonymous with “majority.” It was only ever that way because it was synonymous with “power.”

Now that the Texas GOP has embarrassed itself once again on a global stage, they need to reflect what it is they truly believe. Social justice for all people reflects Republican fundamentals more than it does Democratic fundamentals, but in the last twenty years, while lauding the fundamentals, the Republicans have moved far from them. If they truly valued lesser government and greater individual responsibility, they would embrace social justice and true equality for all people. Without the barriers that protect so many of their own interests, those who are “entitled” would no longer have an excuse for the state in which they find themselves. Instead, the Right, in their grasp for power, keep policies in place that promote stratification of society, that promote an “us-vs-them” atmosphere, and that eternally leaves many behind.

And so they proudly wear a button that does not attempt to hide its racist bent and boldly proclaims their personal intolerance. This liberal is gonna be praying hard for your soul because that is not what Jesus would do.

Remembering Russert

2008-06-18T22:10:00.003-05:00

Although I strive to keep up-to-date on pop culture and do occasionally comment on it here, my television spends much more time off than on, sometimes going between weekend sporting events before being turned on. When it is on, it is usually news or some kind of educational programming from one of the "nature" channels just to provide noise in the house while I'm alone and also giving me the chance to possibly learn something in the process.

The educator in me is always present.

Tim Russert was one of those voices that could always catch my attention. As hard as he skewered various politicians, fairness dominated that skewering. A Democratic Congressman would be on the spit next to a Republican operative. Party or view protected no one with Russert. His intellect and research always turned up something worth a challenge.

Despite the awards and recognition of his peers and politicians after his untimely passing last week, the moment that made me pause and both cheers and haunts me is the interview on Today with Russert's son Luke. Luke at 22 years old demonstrates a composure that proves he is Tim's son more than the similar build and family looks. He spoke of his father in such a composed and mature way it was like watching his father post-time-travel. Those around him, those who are journalistic professionals, could not control their own emotions as well as young Luke.

The video is fifteen minutes long, but I'm already ready to nominate young Luke to take his father's place on Meet The Press. If he can be this composed and well spoken so shortly after his father's death, the Washington politicians would be quaking in their boots.

The clip is fifteen minutes long, but it is truly amazing to see how well young Russert handles himself.

I would hope that Luke Russert is just an example that society is not totally doomed. As an educator, I can vouch that there are many young people as impressive as Luke - they just don't make the news. Maybe if Luke does not take over his father's spot, he can start a channel of positive news stories and help us to know that all is not lost with the future.

Go get 'em, Luke.

(Re)Learning to Think

2008-06-14T12:15:00.002-05:00

After nine years out of any formal schooling, I began to work on a second Masters degree this week. I realized about the second day of class that never in my life had I gone so long outside some organized education. Those nine years have taken a real toll on my thinking processes.

In the interim there have been numerous professional development sessions and various conferences, but they were one-offs and usually did not require more than a few hours at a time. I’ve grown into the habit of critical, academic thinking in sprints rather than marathons. My mental stamina over the last few years has diminished to the point that I would compare it to the physical stamina of a sixty year old chain smoker. My mind periodically demands a walk break during the seven-hour class marathon.

Actually, in the last nine years, my mind has developed the habits of multitasking. Those habits make a single source focus nearly impossible. I find myself in class with my mind trying to get three steps ahead. I’m wondering how the lecture being given now is going to connect to a concept from the text later.

I spend so much time with sense-making an connecting various pieces of my department with one another since they do not often connect in an obvious way under older visions of public education. Some of my programs are process based while others are knowledge based. As a result the two do not often appear to have a direct connection to one another other than the ultimate outcome of getting student to take advantage of the postsecondary opportunities available. Still, fundamental math skills do not have much connection to completing the resume portion of a college application – at least in the eyes of a middle school math teacher.

I work to find that connection and also to present ways for delivering it through best instructional practices.

And so in the past week, I have had to reshape my thought processes to consider how to do pure academic study. I have always been a reader and a writer, but my academic and grammar habits have become increasingly sloppy over time. In my mind, just like in my home and office, I am picky about some things while letting others go.

We all have our clutter somewhere.

As the academic study becomes more intense over the semester and I actually have to start using APA style for writing, I’m going to have to relegate my mental clutter to some closet; I now have to find the right size closet to manage all the piles I have stacked in various places throughout my head. All that “stuff” does not go away it just gets stuck somewhere.

I should know the answer to this question, but is it possible to have a mental garage sale and pass on the clutter to someone else at a discount? I could post signs up and down my street:

Get your used mental mess! Saturday from 7:00 until it’s gone. Reasonable prices – negotiable.

And is it ethical to sell the junk left over from (former) friends or should I just donate it all so some poor soul? Too many people have not lived enough to develop clutter of their own so they can have some of the wilder thoughts I’ve had over the years. Maybe they could stand to have a bit of a jumpstart and thus begin to develop their own. As with sourdough, all it takes is a bit of starter.

Really though, I don’t want to part with anything floating around in my head, but I could stand to come up with a better organizational system. I can learn to encrypt it and put it on a jump-drive for later recall. While I’m giving the MacBook another shot at the moment, I think I will use a Windows filing system – unfortunately my brain was wired by Bill Gates not Steve Jobs.

All my metacognition over the past week has begun to pay off. I successfully managed to not study for four hours while sitting at a coffee shop! I thought about studying and the reading I needed to do. I transferred my calendar entries to the new calendar that spans the time I need now.

And I wrote this post. (Re)learning to think is much more fun than I thought it would be.

I Wish

2008-06-07T15:58:00.001-05:00

Earlier this week a friend asked me what my wish was. The question totally stumped me.

“If wishes were horses then dreamers would ride,” came immediately to mind, but when I Googled the phrase, I found out I’ve had it wrong for years. The correct phrase is, “If wishes were horses then beggars would ride.”

I learned the phrase from my friend J who was citing lyrics to a 70’s rock song. Google as I may, I have not been able to find the song and validate my mislearning from so long ago. I think J may have just misheard the lyrics and recited them the way he heard them.

Or maybe he didn’t know what he was talking about.

And that analytical tangent is why I don’t wish. I begin to evaluate all the factors necessary to make something happen and the various what-ifs. My wishes turn into cerebral chess matches as the “gonna-happen” side and the “never-gonna-happen” side battle for dominance of my reality. Google, Wikipedia, and the American Heritage Dictionary (1983 paperback edition) always have a say.

In fact the dictionary’s role in my daily life became topic of a debate when I realized that it was indeed the 1983 edition (the first major new dictionary in 10 years the cover proclaims!). Twenty-five years later terminology for devices that didn’t exist back then dominates our functional vocabulary. The very technology that has made the old dictionary obsolete also makes the purchase of a new one unnecessary. I have the Internet on my phone – I don’t even have to have access to a computer.

And so, I forgot how to wish a long time ago which is really a shame. Some magical spark disappears when wishes evaporate from the consciousness. Maybe it’s a skill we lose when we forget to use it or grow up to find that wishing isn’t allowed. Children all master the skill, but between childhood and adulthood, except for a talented few, wishing goes away.

Star light
Star bright
First star
I see tonight

I wish I may
I wish I might
Have this wish
I wish tonight:

I wish to wish again.

Going Sane

2008-06-05T21:39:00.000-05:00

Why do others feel compelled to panic at someone else’s bad news? It truly confounds me that they feel as if they are not truly supporting you unless they are running around screaming and flailing.

Really? Does that help anything?

Maybe I’m a natural counselor in that I remained completely calm on the surface and still am. I have never accomplished anything by screaming and failing: I’m not coordinated enough to manage screaming and flailing while actually THINKING about things. I schedule my meltdowns because unscheduled ones rarely do any good.

The news revolved around financing for my job. I knew going into the position a year ago that there was a good chance the job would not be funded beyond a year. Word came today that it was not in fact funded beyond the end of the month (conclusion of one year). I’ll have a job by the end of the month, so I’m not terribly concerned.

My heart broke today when shortly after finding out there was no funding for my position (which is really ok – if I get a certain promotion, I would get rid of my current position), I found out there was no funding for the other two people who work in my office – and it was my job to tell them.

How do you go about telling two people you truly respect, admire, and LIKE that their jobs are not being funded for the next year? I knew I wanted to do it as soon as possible to give them the quickest heads up possible, but it was the last thing I ever wanted to tell anyone. And I was angry. It is one thing for me to think my own job is not worth saving, but how dare they affect the jobs of those who are worth saving; the people who do the day-to-day work that makes a difference in the lives of students. My insides tumbled around for about thirty minutes until I was able to tell both of them at the same time.

They took the news remarkably well – better than I did inside. Maybe inside, they were upset as I, but they kept their calm and managed the news and went right about looking for new jobs. I could barely stay in the office in their presence.

Somehow I managed to stay sane through the day and came home and just chill while I thought about options and tried to decide exactly what it was that I want next while I make sure my co-workers get what they deserve.

Dear Hillary

2008-06-01T21:13:00.004-05:00

Dear Hillary,

Please stop. For those of us who truly love and respect you, please stop while you maintain that love and respect. I began this campaign season fully supporting you and was certain you would bring a new character and example of leadership to this country and the world.

As a child of the 60’S, I lived through the presidencies of Johnson, Nixon, Carter, Reagan, Bush I, Clinton, and now Bush II. Your husband’s presidency is by far the best I’ve experienced in my lifetime. Sad to say, but that has been against some very low standards. Still, despite his personal weakness, he was a remarkable leader for the nation.

Entering the election cycle, I viewed you as the steel, the strength, that made his presidency as potent as it was. And so it was without giving any of the other candidates consideration that I embarked on my “elect Hillary” mission. You possessed the precious metal to regain the honor of the office. Sadly, as the campaigning progressed another side of you emerged. Through all of Bill’s dalliances, you remained stronger than Tammy Winette could have ever sung, yet when all the states did not roll over and succumb to your feminine ways, the vindictive Clinton showed her face.

There were thousands of jokes about how Bill must have felt crawling into bed next to you as his indiscretions were counted. Suddenly, we, the voters, became Bill. We were treated to your wrath, indignation, and genuinely mean spirit. As Obama’s message of hope became something we more and more craved, your anger distanced us more and more.

This weekend, as you asked for the rules to be changed at the end of the game, that hostility to the real common man became clear. As an educator, every day I work within “No Child Left Behind” which daily disenfranchises more students than it empowers because it unjustly judges. Still, we play by the rules, take the embarrassment when it comes in the media, and go back the next day to educate children. In my school 80% of the students enter 9th grade reading at the third to fifth grade level. We are considered low-performing because we have a four year graduation rate of 67%. In three year’s time, we move 47% of the students from elementary level to high-school graduation level.

The rules are not fair, but we play by them.

With Michigan and Florida, you knew the rules. The state parties knew the rules. The voters knew the rules, and yet they continued to break them. How then do you expect me to support you in such a dishonest and obviously manipulative grab made only out of desperation? Every day you draw this out. Every attack on the party and on Obama you make, makes me respect you less.

Your recent behavior and that of your most fervent followers, has made be see you as nothing more than the current regime in sheep’s clothing. You are not the woman, the senator, the person I thought you were. I’m hurt and broadly disillusioned. Senator Obama was not my candidate of choice, but after observing you in the last few months, he has become my only hope.

If you really love this country, you will gracefully accept defeat and give us a chance to move forward into a brighter future for all than the Republicans would ever allow even for a few.

Thank you.

Yankee Doodle Dandy

2008-05-27T22:21:00.002-05:00

Since 1976, every time I hear the song, “Yankee Doodle,” I get a mental image of Senator Edward Kennedy. The image has aged in the thirty-two years since I first made the mental connection. With the recent diagnosis of brain cancer for Sen. Kennedy, I worry that my image of the Yankee Doodle Dandy will soon be frozen.

Why Edward Kennedy became my visual representation of Yankee Doodle, I do not know, but I have some theories.

1976 was a big year for “Yankee Doodle” in the third grade circuit. As part of the nation’s bicentennial celebration, such patriotic ditties made a daily appearance in the curriculum. Somehow Kennedy’s Massachusetts connection made him the perfect Yankee Doodle in my mind. Along with that perhaps some of his playboy ways came through to a ten-year old mind and I associated him with “dandy.”

However it arrived with me, the connection stuck.

Having been born between the assassinations of his brothers, my entire life has been somewhat steeped in the Kennedy mystique. Teddy Kennedy was the only one around to live in that out in my lifetime. Whatever the event, Kennedy’s voice was always one that was heard. Even when I disagreed with him, his voice always shaped my thinking.

While the prognosis does not look positive in the long term for Sen. Kennedy, I’ll never shake my mental image of him with a tri-cornered hat with a feather.

Hand-Picked Goodness?

2008-05-22T20:44:00.002-05:00

I don’t know why I do it, but I keep reading packages. The latest to catch my eye was the latest flavor of Miss Vickie’s potato chips. I couldn’t pass up the idea of “Hand Picked Jalapeno” I just had to find out what made it so very special.

I’m a pepper freak and have every type of pepper I could find in the garden shops in the area, and as I’ve posted, they have been producing like crazy – and everything there is hand-picked. But honestly, in the peppers, I’ve never noticed much different between the flavor of the hand picked ones from my garden and the ones I purchase in the off-season from the supermarket.

So I bought a bag.

I was disappointed to find that there was no email address for Miss Vickie* so I could ask her about her hand-picked jalapeno secrets. However, the bag did offer some tips such as, “picking the jalapenos by hand when they are perfectly ripe.”

I think she meant to be talking about the tomato that goes with the jalapeno in salsa. Jalapenos when “ripe” either become woody or mushy and sweet.

I was also a little baffled at how the pepper went from “perfectly ripe” to “jalapeno powder.” Something gets lost in that translation. I want to take a tour of the process to see just what they do to preserve the hand picked goodness. The powdering process seems to violently diminish the gentle care of hand picking.

Despite all this – yeah, they’re good!

*Miss Vickie is a little sister to Frito Lay

Domesticated

2008-05-20T12:43:00.004-05:00

After 17 years, it was time to get a new washing machine. My old one worked, but it really liked to go on walks - so much that I had to leave the laundry room door open if I really wanted to get my clothes back.

So...I went shopping and found a great front loader. I'm being good to my clothes and the environment.

I am enjoying doing laundry again - as all the blankets, towels, pillows (and my clothes) now know well enough. It is so much quieter, I have to listen carefully to know when it is done.

Garden-y Goodness

2008-05-18T21:54:00.002-05:00

The picture above is some of today's harvest from my garden. Fresh basil, oregano, fennel, tomatoes, yellow and zucchini squash, various peppers. At the rate things are going, this is going to be a very good summer for me. I may have to purchase a second freezer to save everything.

I made a pesto of oregano, basil, and jalepeno and mixed it in the bread I baked tonight. I'm going to be eating good for the next few months!

Music Review: Noise Cancelling Headphones

2008-05-12T20:17:00.001-05:00

Another music review and I’m not talking about music. This weekend I finally bought a pair of noise cancelling headphones. I have been thinking of getting some for the times when I’m traveling on planes or staying in a hotel and find myself surrounded by unfamiliar sounds. The basic concept behind noise cancelling headphones, is that they create a counter-sound wave to whatever sound is coming in from the atmosphere that essentially leaves one hearing no sound, so whatever sound, if any, you have coming from the computer or device is all you hear.

I was prepared to have a white noise creator, so I purchased a mid-level headphone set. I am amazed at how well they work. The music I listen to, the podcasts I like to keep up with, all sound worlds better without any interference coming from without. I am normally sitting in my recliner next to my aquarium. It always has sounds coming from the air pump, the water, and the fish splashing around. The first time I turned on the headphones, the aquarium disappeared as background noise.

When the headphones are turned on, there is clarity to the sound that I’m not familiar with and I’m finding that it works really well with all kinds of music and talk. Because I so enjoy my music, I am seriously considering purchasing a higher end set for home use. With a little longer cord, I could plug into the home theatre system and listen to everything that way.

One side effect I noticed is that I have to have my cell phone sitting on my chest while I’m working on the computer with the headphones on; the phone ringing is drowned out by the noise cancelling feature. I think that may become my new excuse – “I’m sorry, the headphones hid the sound.” I may not have to ever hear a salesman knock at the door, a phone ring, or my dogs fight again.

Music Review: Hard Candy

2008-05-11T05:49:00.003-05:00

Ok. It’s a Madonna cd. I’m gay. I’m obligated to like it.

And I do.

I have to confess that one of the reasons I like Hard Candy is that it reminds me of “Early Madonna.” Only now, it is contemporary Early Madonna. All the beats I loved in high school and college are there with a techo twist I want to dance to (while fantasizing about Justin Timberlake). It sounds like now and reminds me of then.

Too bad I’m old and dance like a white man.

Despite liking this cd, it has taken some time to grow on me. The first time I listened to it, I did not fall in love and I’ve only listened to it since its release when I made a conscious effort to do so. I’m challenged to come up with a reason not to like the cd and cannot say that there is one reason I don’t. I like it, just not as much as I want to.

Every single on the cd is pure Madonna. She stamps each one with her personality and style and each one is well produced, but after listening to the entire cd, I find myself still wanting more. Kind of like hard candy, each piece contains tremendous flavor but only makes one crave more; I find myself stuffing one after the other in my mouth. On the cd, each single has its burst of flavor, and I listen intently from one to the next, but at the end, the cd as a whole does not leave anything satisfying or memorable.

The songs on Hard Candy will be ones that have a place on play lists and mix cds for years to come, but I don’t expect to listen to the cd all the way through many times. It belongs in the music library of anyone who enjoys Madonna or even contemporary music, but it won’t be at the top of the stack.

Degree Queen

2008-05-10T18:36:00.001-05:00

As a person in an oft discriminated against group, I have worked hard to identify any personal prejudices I have and to consciously guard against them. I only have one that I am clearly aware of. It has nothing to do with race, age, or gender. It has to do with size. I have an immediate internal, physical reaction to people who are grossly obese. I know it is not rational, but I do.

In the last two weeks, I have discovered another bias. A quite handsome man who is the right age for me (over 30) has been expressing interest. He really wants to get to know me and date me. I enjoy the conversations I’ve had with him. And then comes the “but.”

As a gay man, 90% of the people reading my bias about size earlier immediately thought one thing until I clarified.

Which comes to the “but,” and the other bias I discovered.

It’s not what’s hanging in your pants that impresses me, it’s what’s hanging on the wall.

No matter how sexy a guy is, I don’t find him attractive for more than a roll in the hay unless he has a degree. And the more degrees, the more attractive he is. I don’t think I can date someone who does not at least have a bachelor’s degree and I fear that may even rise as I begin work on my second master’s degree next month.

So all you non-obese, 30+ men with degrees start lining up!

More of God's Little Acre

2008-04-26T21:58:00.003-05:00

I am very excited about the progress the yard has made already - this is the back right corner - which is now the herb garden and a massive improvement over the previous arrangement.

The herb garden has several types of basil, oregano, rosemary, fennel, and a few pepper plants.

Above is the entire area leading up to the herb garden which is the back. I have the turtle pond, an area to lay out, and my grill. It is a perfect area to just relax out in the sun with my lounger and a book.

The amazing zuccinis are already starting to produce. I'm going to be out of town for two days and they will be perfect for picking when I get back! Squash are one of my very favorite veggies and I am always happy that zucs produce so proficiently.

Just one of the HOT PEPPERS I have growing in the beds. I have an entire half a bed dedicated to hot peppers. I'm serious when I say I have not found one yet that is too hot for me.

Last here, but certainly not least - the Roma tomatoes. I have three Roma plants and they are all loaded with clusters of rapidly growing, meaty tomatoes. I also have six Better Boy tomato plants. I'm gonna be eating healthy this summer.

God's Little Acre

2008-04-26T21:35:00.004-05:00

I have not been around much and the pictures below are the reason why. I did not do a good job in taking pictures completely before, so some work has already been done (one of the beds laid out in the background)

Above are the dirt piles and back left side of the yard. I built up two garden beds back there and the results are in a later picture.

This is the back right corner - that became the herb garden.

Here are the squash - I already have zuccinis almost ready for harvest. And here is the back right corner with beds in place and the squash, peppers and tomatoes planted. I have already harvested some peppers. Now I'm waiting for the grass to grow back in.

Music Review: Sound Opinions

2008-04-20T16:25:00.002-05:00

My alarm goes off at 5:00 a.m. every day. I don’t normally crawl out of bed then, but that is when Morning edition begins on my local National Public Radio station and I want to hear the news. I do not change the setting for the weekends because after years of waking at 5:00 a.m., my body is going to do it whether I se the alarm or not – still my paranoia keeps me worried that I won’t remember to change the setting for Monday and work.

I never said I was always logical.

On weekends, though, I do normally turn the radio off for the first cycle.

That was until recently.

On Sunday mornings, KUT (my local station) has started carrying a syndicated show from Chicago Public Radio called “Sound Opinions.” The first few weeks, I rolled over as usual and turned it off.

But I kept hearing music I liked an had not heard before.

So I started listening and each week I have discovered something new about music. I do not always like the music or agree with the opinions, but more often than not, I learn something. The co-hosts are of my generation and have a musical background more that of my friends when it comes to contemporary music. The iTunes library on my newest laptop is beginning to reflect the music I’ve been hearing on the show.

Jim DeRogatis and Greg Kot are music critics for the major Chicago newspapers. They have varied tastes when it comes to music, but I have not found myself siding with one more than the other. Their interviews always catch my attention as they interview some of the legends of the music business. I always discover connections that I never knew existed before listening to the show. Some of the interviews are with people I have admired for years, but never had a name to connect to the accomplishments. Some of the interviews are with completely new people.

That comes back to the reason I enjoy them so much – I learn something new each week. I am a better music fan because of them.

The show is available in podcast at: http://www.soundopinions.org/audio.html

I encourage you to give them a shot. I have yet to listen to a show without coming across some new tidbit that fascinated me.

Manual Labor!

2008-03-16T14:07:00.001-05:00

For five days, I’ve done the most exhausting physical labor of my life, but I anticipate it paying off for years to come. I, with much help from C. have redesigned my entire back yard so that it is a place I want to spend my evenings. Growing up on a farm, there is just something about the outdoors that captures me and calls to me. In a year, my secret garden will be an efficient oasis within my urban landscape.

I work in education and some in the field see our focus as getting students to go to college, in fact, my job exists solely to get students to enroll in some postsecondary institution after high school. The prejudice with educators against those who do not value as much as we do is thinly veiled by many as the platitude that “college is not for everyone.” If everyone wore librarian glasses, the statement would be delivered down the nose and over the glasses.

Educators feel a certain need to persuade every person that if they do not get a four-year degree, at least, they really will not be successful, no matter what they do. Training, apprenticeships, two-year, and technical degrees are viewed as lesser options that will only lead to a lifetime of struggle and misery.

It annoys me when other educators act in such a way because the facts are otherwise – only about 23% of careers being created in the United States require a four-year degree. Sixty-five percent require some training post-high school, specifically not a four-year degree. Still the prejudice continues.

After a week of hard physical labor, I see the joy of it. My call is to be an educator; I’ve tried other jobs and have been miserable in them, but the accomplishment one sees when boards are hammered and dirt is shoveled, is real, visible, and capable of bringing joy over time.

That is my garden.

Every bloom, every tomato, squash, pepper, cucumber, eggplant, watermelon, cantaloupe, and all the herbs will remind me not to begrudge those who choose to do this kind of work on for a living. I have taken pictures of the project along the way. I think I’m going to print out a bunch of wallet sized photos and whip them out whenever I see the education prejudice rear its head.