Tips for the Holiday Season

Note: In my opinion, what follows below is blog spam. To those of you who don't like this sort of thing: I"m with you. I normally don't either. But I received this in an Email from my Aunt and I liked it enough to foist it off on you. I figure, what the hell, it's My blog after all!

Tips for the Holiday Season:

1. Avoid carrot sticks. Anyone who puts carrots on a holiday
buffet table knows nothing of the Christmas spirit. In fact, if you
see carrots, leave immediately. Go next door, where they're
serving rum balls.

2. Drink as much eggnog as you can. And quickly. It's rare
... you cannot find it any other time of year but now. So drink
up! Who cares that it has 10,000 calories in every sip? It's not as
if you're going to turn into an eggnog-alcoholic or something. It's
a treat. Enjoy it. Have one for me. Have two. It's later than you
think. It's Christmas!

3. If something comes with gravy, use it. That's
the whole point of gravy. Gravy does not stand alone. Pour it on.
Make a volcano out of your mashed potatoes. Fill it with gravy. Eat
the volcano. Repeat.

4. As for mashed potatoes, always ask if they're made with
skim milk or whole milk. If it's skim, pass. Why bother? It's like
buying a sports car with an automatic transmission. Go next door to
the rum ball house.

5. Do not have a snack before going to a party in an effort to
control your eating. The whole point of going to a Christmas party
is to eat other people's food for free. Lots of it. Hello?

6. Under no circumstances should you exercise between now and
New Year's. You can do that in January when you have nothing else
to do. This is the time for long naps, which you'll need after
circling the buffet table while carrying a 10-pound plate of food
and that vat of eggnog.

7. If you come across something really good at a buffet
table, like frosted Christmas cookies in the shape and size of
Santa, position yourself near them and don't budge. Have as many as
you can before becoming the center of attention. They're like
a beautiful pair of shoes. If you leave them behind, you're
never going to see them again.

8. Same for pies. Apple, Pumpkin, Mincemeat. Have a slice of
each. Or if you don't like mincemeat, have two apples and one
pumpkin. Always have three. When else do you get to have more than
one dessert? Labor Day?

9. Did someone mention fruitcake? Granted, it's loaded with the
mandatory celebratory calories, but avoid it at all cost. I mean, have
some standards.

10. One final tip: If you don't feel terrible when you leave
the party or get up from the table, you haven't been paying
attention. Re-read tips; start over, but hurry, January is just
around the corner. Remember this motto to live by:


"Life should NOT be a journey to the grave with the intention
of arriving safely in an attractive and well preserved body,
but rather to skid in sideways, martini in hand, body
thoroughly used up, totally worn out and screaming "WOO HOO what
a ride!"


Have a great holiday season!

Ghost in the Machine

The washing machine is on the fritz again. It randomly selects a time to just stop. You never know when it's going to happen - while it's filling, while its agitating, draining, spinning. It simply quits, like it's too tired to go on and has collapsed from exhaustion. If I start a load before bed, dollars to donuts I will wake up to a load of clothes that have been stewing in dirty water all night. Gross. I've taken to hanging out in the dining room nearby with the door open so I can hear when it gives up. Then I say [expletive deleted] ! and stomp into the garage to coax it back into action.

It has incredible timing. It is most likely to quit on me when I need it most - when time is a factor. Like before work, when all of my uniforms are in it. Like before we go out to dinner, when the shirt I want to wear is in it. It is cruel, and it hates me. I swear sometimes I can hear it laughing like Vincent Price when I turn my back. Usually it finishes the cycle once I restart it. But sometimes it stops as soon as I turn around, like it's waiting for me to stop looking. GOTCHA! Muahhahahaha! I try not to let it see me cry.

Thing is, I thought we had it fixed. We're on well water - that is to say, "Hard Water" - and the screen on the hose used to get blocked. We thought it was minerals building up to block the screen. I scrubbed the screen, soaked it in vinegar and replaced it. NOPE. Then we thought the hoses, which are old, were degrading inside and pieces of rubber were blocking the hose causing back-pressure. We replaced them with new ones. NOPE. I even considered calling a Voodoo priestess or a Catholic priest to exorcise it but I'm weirded out by all the unintelligible chanting, strange costumes, and strange-smelling incense - and Voodoo doesn't thrill me either.

I know what you're thinking: "You need a new washer." And you'd be right.

I'm okay, you're a little twisted... but that's okay.

I have opinions. Yup. Lots of 'em. Example: There's a right way to fold a towel, and many wrong ways to do it. I think my David has explored most of the wrong ways before discovering that my way is the best way. Not because he did the research and found out that the way I do it works the best. O no. He's figured out that the amount of grief he gets from me if he doesn't do it 'the right way' is just not worth the fight. Don't get me wrong here... he is still sloppy about it, but the folds are 'correct.' You may think the whole thing is silly, but it matters to me. I don't know why, exactly, but it does.

See, that's the thing about opinions. They are highly personal. Though the reasoning behind them may (or may not) be sound, we can be inexplicably and stubbornly devoted to them. An opinion is different from an idea. You can easily change your ideas about something, but an opinion is much harder to change - evidence to the contrary be damned. Ideas are about thought, opinions are about decisions. When we have an opinion, we've decided what we think - and decisions have an air of finality about them. You've made up your mind and that's that.

This, of course, can lead to statements like "you're being irrational," or worse - especially if the other person has also formed an opinion, and that opinion radically differs from your own. The discussion can spiral out of control, becoming the opposite of a discussion: an argument. Let's face it, an argument is not a discussion. A discussion is the sharing of information, the exchange of ideas. An argument is a contest, and both of you are trying to win. Nobody ever wins a discussion. Arguments are about domination. Discussions are about tolerance.

Tolerance is not about agreeing. You can tolerate something without agreeing with it. In fact, tolerance is like 'agreeing to disagree'. It's about understanding the concept of self-determination and individuality. You don't have to change who you are to tolerate someone else. You do your thing, and you let them do theirs. Their differences are about them, not about you. You've got enough to worry about. Trust me.

When you commit to tolerance, it can be very freeing. It has a tendency to jog you out of 'tunnel vision' and allow you to see things you might not have noticed before. Like how you are similar. You might learn something once you stop focusing on what you view as the negative, and take in the whole. If there was more tolerance, we might live in a safer and more joyful world. Less shouting and more laughter. Less isolation and more community.

I think we need more tolerance in the world. But that's just my opinion.

World AIDS Day 2008

I don't remember the first time I heard the word AIDS. What I do remember is the chill that washed over me when I suddenly realized that the people they were talking about on the news, the group that was primarily afflicted with it, wasn't some group of 'others'. It was ME they were talking about. I was at risk, because I was one of 'those people' - gay men. What I do remember is the horror that was AIDS in those early days - the horror of the disease as well as the horror that came from ignorance and fear. And boy, did I feel that fear and I surely was ignorant. Everybody was. Nobody knew for sure what caused it, where it came from, how you 'got it' - except that gay sex seemed to be connected somehow.

What I do remember is being angry. I hadn't come out yet, not to my parents, my friends, anyone - and barely admitted to myself what I knew in my heart to be true. I was gay, and O how I wanted to express it. As normal as any adolescent boy on the verge of manhood in that hormones played havoc with my body, my libido, my imagination. And here on the edge of the abyss where we all stood, waiting to step off into the sexual wonderland that seemed just within reach, suddenly the stakes were much higher. Impossibly high. AS IF I didn't have enough to worry about, now I could die a horrible death if I indulged, explored, discovered. It was SO NOT FAIR.

But it wasn't just about me. I was the lucky one.

Stories would air on the nightly news and articles would run in the national papers (certainly not local print) about how the one's afflicted with this new terror were shunned, cast out, pariah. Nurses refused to enter their rooms, leaving them to waste away in their own filth, trays of food left on the floor in the hospital hallways by their doors. Mothers and Fathers cast out their own children, landlords evicted their tenants, businesses fired their employees. The devastation of diagnosis matched only by the desolation that followed if it was revealed. Gray, skeletal faces stared back at us with desperate eyes and the nation turned away. Religion told us it was okay, because this was God's retribution for sin. We needn't feel bad, it was all part of the plan.

As dramatic and harsh as it sounds, the above is - sadly - not an exaggeration.

Mercifully there were Samaritans out there who didn't look away. The gay community rallied around it's fallen brethren, organizing to provide services to all who were affected, gay or straight. We cared for the sick, the dying, even the dead when a decent burial was difficult to acheive. We fed them, and housed them, and gave what comfort we could. We spoke up, spoke out, marched, petitioned, protested.

Even then, I wasn't directly affected. I did finally 'do it', and I thankfully I didn't 'get it' - though my first time was without a condom. I moved on from High School to College to the Navy, and Yes, I finally came out. I was fortunate enough to have a good friend to help me through my coming out - Van. Van took me to my first gay bar and taught me what to watch out for, how to buy a guy a drink, what a 'top' and a 'bottom' were, how to 'dish' and 'hold court' and date. He taught me what "Safe Sex" was, assured me that it was still hot and fun. He bought me my first box of condoms, and made sure I knew how to use one. And then one day he told me he had it.

He had to, he said, because we were going to be roommates and that I shouldn't use his toothbrush (eww) or his razor - and that I couldn't get it from casual contact. He was on AZT and some other new drugs and I learned about T-cells and Viral Loads. I was impressed, I thought he had it together. He took me to my first AIDS fundraiser, a raucous affair full of laughter and fun in which he participated as a performer, doing a drag rendition of "Let's Hear It for the Boy". It's a song that is forever bittersweet for me because Van didn't make it. Despite the odds at the time, I was sure he would. AIDS didn't take his life, but Van was no less a victim of it. At the first sign of opportunistic infection, Van sank into despair and took his own life rather than risk losing his mind to dementia or facing disfigurement and pain from Kaposi's Sarcoma or Pneumocystis. 4 months later the first protease inhibitors were introduced which could have prolonged his life.

Since then, I have read names at a showing of the Quilt Project, volunteered and even worked for HIV/AIDS nonprofits. I have become a certified AIDS counselor and tester, and I have tried to be more than a bystander. I have done these things as much for myself as I have for Van - and for my friends past, present, and future. But what have I done lately? Nothing. I burned out and had to take a break for a while. And during my hiatus, the numbers of newly infected young gay men are creeping back up.

This new generation of confident young people who come out in High School (or sooner!) and proudly declare themselves to the world have more information about HIV and AIDS at their disposal than any of my generation ever did. But they didn't witness the early horrors - the new drugs have put those days behind us, and so it's not so scary on the surface anymore. A false sense of security comes from the mistaken belief that HIV is merely a chronic inconvenience that a few pills can easily hold at bay. Unsafe, condom-less sex is on the rise and some even seek out HIV positive partners for unsafe sex, hoping to 'join the club'. But HIV drug therapy is no picnic, and the virus is still, ultimately, fatal. There is no cure.

So I say this to all of you: Protect yourself, Support those who are affected by HIV and AIDS, and Pray for the Cure. And never, ever forget those who are absent, the ones who went before.

I love you, Van, and you are missed.

A Killer Price

"Black Friday Crowds Trample to Death a Wal-Mart employee"

This makes me sick, disgusted, sad: Crowds gathered outside of a Wal-Mart in New York State Friday morning surged through the front doors in a mad dash to take advantage of 'doorbuster' sales, trampling to death the employee who opened the doors. "Doorbusters" in reality, knocking the doors off of the hinges and crushing them - and the employee - to save a few bucks. Witnesses say that members of the crowd STEPPED OVER the prone body of the man as they made their way into the building, and fellow employees were battered and bruised themselves in their attempt to come to the poor man's aid. When shoppers were told the store would be closing for a few hours because of the death many continued shopping, expressing irritation and exclaiming "I waited out front for hours, I'm not leaving!"

What is wrong with you people? What have you become? Never mind the Christmas Spirit, what happened to your humanity? Although it shouldn't matter, let me put it into perspective for you - and make it personal to appeal to your selfish natures: What if this person was your grandmother, your husband, your child? How would you feel then? Would you be outraged? Would it change your behavior? Would you still step over their crumpled and battered body for a flat-screen television?

Here's my gift to all of you, and to the world at large: I didn't kill anyone this year - or ever. I tried to treat others with respect and kindness. I tried to think of someone besides myself. I made the effort. It seems like such a small thing, no effort at all really... But maybe the lowest common denominator is all we can hope for against the backdrop of selfish indifference. Maybe it's no longer about what you do to help your fellow man - maybe it's about what you DON'T do to harm them.

Roasted Squash Casserole

I came up with this dish tonite to use up some Yellow Squash I had left over. It was really good, and you don't even miss the meat, thanks to the smokey flavor of the Gouda.

Roasted Squash Casserole

Ingredients:

1 10 oz can Cream of Mushroom Soup
1 half can Milk
1 16 oz jar Bertolli's or Ragu Alfredo Sauce
1 4 oz can Mushroom stems and pieces
1 Cup Smoked Gouda cheese, finely grated
1 large Yellow Onion, diced
2 ribs Celery, finely diced
1 medium Carrot, finely diced
4 medium Yellow "Crookneck" Summer Squash, Diced
Spiral Tube Pasta, cooked 'al dente'
1/4 t. Nutmeg
Salt
Pepper
Olive Oil
Directions:

Preheat Oven to 400 degrees.

Combine Squash, Onions, 2 tablespoons Olive Oil, salt and pepper and spread over a cookie sheet. Roast until soft and the slightly browned on the edges. Remove to cool, leaving the Oven on. 'Sweat' Mushrooms, Celery, carrots, salt and pepper in 1 tablespoon Olive Oil over medium heat until soft. Mix together Mushroom soup, Alfredo sauce, Milk, Cheese and nutmeg until combined. Add all vegetables and stir until combined. Pour over drained pasta and toss until well coated. Pour mixture into greased shallow glass casserole and bake for 30 minutes until heated through and slightly browned. Remove and let stand for 5 minutes before serving. Serves 6 main courses or 10 sides.

Optional: Add cooked diced Chicken to the mixture - but you'll need to increase the sauce by half.

***

If you try this, let me know how you liked it. We loved it.

Blog Mechanics

Our friend Garret is becoming an expert at the whole blogging thing and at his suggestion I've made the following minor changes: Anonymous comments are allowed now so anyone can comment on a blog post without using the word verification filter. Since I still approve any comments before they are posted, it seemed pointless to add another hoop for people to jump through - and you don't have to create a blogger profile to post one now.

Also, for some reason Garret has been unable to add the blog to those that he 'follows' - but something I did must have corrected the problem, and that feature works now.