Why Is It ...

… that when someone asks, “Who got you smiling,” I always say, “The voices in my head just cracked a joke. Leave us alone.”

… that after this past year I wanna give myself a big hug because I’m still standing.

… that Family Dollar always seems to have just one cashier. Where’s the rest of the family?

… that winter doesn’t bother me; I also become cold and dark after 4PM.

… that one of the weirdest things about being an adult is having a favorite stove top burner; no one ever talks about it but y’all know it’s true and y’all have one.

… that it’s always, “How was work?” and never, “Quit and I’ll support you.”

… that I still miss that part of 2020 when it was illegal for anyone to come near me.

…that when I yell at birds in the street to move so they don’t get run over is kind of how I see the universe watching me live my life.

… that I know I would not waste away in Margaritaville; in fact, I would thrive!

Happy New Year

I love a New Year.

A fresh start, so to speak, and the thought of infinite possibilities, even though there is that darkness of anger and racism and greed all around us. But maybe I am a bit of a Pollyanna, I believe times are changing; people are growing tired of division and hate, of billionaires complaining, tired of religion as politics, tired of faith being used as a weapon against women, immigrants, people of color and LGBTQ+ people.

Think of what might happen if women and people of color, immigrants and LGBTQ+ Americans, along with our allies, all stood up and voted every single time; think of the changes we could make in this country … equality, fairness, acceptance.

And, while the numbers may be adding up faster than I ever thought possible, I like the idea of being another year older, and another year wiser; okay, maybe not that older shiz. As I once told my sister, who thought I never looked any older, The Gays aren't allowed to age, so I don't mind the extra year under the belt … as long as it doesn’t puddle over my belt.

I look back on the past year, remembering the good times, the tough times, the bad and sad times, because they are all a part of life. I still wake up every morning, look out the window to his spot beneath the trees and say Hello to Tuxedo and then whisper Goodnight atm the end of the day; I still miss the Pocket Dog racing through the house like a small black blur; and I miss MaxGoldberg, heavy as a cinderblock, sleeping on me at night.

And yet while looking back, I also look forward to doing more, and learning more, thinking more, reading more, loving more, laughing more. These aren't resolutions, as I don't make resolutions because when I do, they last about as long as it takes me to say ‘resolution.’ These are promises and wishes, hopes and dreams, positive thoughts that 2025 will be a far better year for all of us, around the world, than 2024.

So, I'll leave you all to have a good day, with a repost of some New Year’s Day thoughts:

The more things change :::blibbety blah blay bloo touch me::: the more they remain the same:  I am a believer in happiness. My parents raised their children to believe that happiness is all we really get in life, and that everything else follows. 

Things don't make us happy, at least not for long. And you can't expect people to make you happy either; you either have it to begin with, and others add to it, or you don't. If you don't believe that, just look around at all the sad, angry, lonely faces you pass on the street. Happiness is something you possess, that you give out, and get back. But we are each responsible for our own happiness; responsible to find it, to hold on to it; to nurture it and share it.

Without happiness in ourselves, for being ourselves, how can we expect to live fully and completely? We suffer loss every day; I've had my share and, sad to say, I know there's more to come, but I feel happy in the memories I have of those who've gone on ahead. I still, even as I reread this from years past, mourn the loss of my father; he would have loved the Dodgers winning the World Series and he would have screamed at America once again for believing a liar.

I like to think things will get better, though it might not be the better I was thinking it would be, but I have seen tough times and I have seen them get better, so I will remain hopeful, because of the things I have learned.

I learned, from my Father the Teacher, never to stop learning and reading and speaking and, well, ranting; the more you learn, the more you grow, and understand, the more happiness you can accept. I've also learned that the best thing you can do for the people you love is to be there when they need you.

I learned, from my Mother the Nurturer, to care for things, for people, for animals, for life; to make each day better for those around us, and to make it better for ourselves in the end. I have learned to hold family close; never let them go; whether it's the family you were born into, or the family you created out of necessity; hold on to them, and protect them, and love them. 

I learned, from my Sister the Temper, to speak up; why sit quietly and let things happen to you? Stand up and demand the things you want, the happiness you want. Don't settle. 

I learned, from my Brother … well, let’s just say he taught me that people change dramatically … they ignore science, even after contracting COVID; that people who never voted will support a traitorous rapist racist. He taught me that people change, and not always for the better, but we are all human and perhaps one day he will change again.

I learned from the Blog People that, while we all may have different lives and different backgrounds and different ideas, we can communicate and listen and learn. I thank all of you for your blogs and the things you say that make me laugh and smile, cry and rant, learn, and even sometimes sing and dance.

I learned from the pets we lost in the last year or so ... MaxGoldberg, Tuxedo, and Ozzo ... and the ones we've lost through the years that sheer, unmitigated joy and pure unconditional love are real things to be accepted and given right back. 

I learned, from my Husband the Optimist, how to actually let go and be in love and damn the torpedoes; how to be open and honest and know that it won't hurt; how to love yourself, and everyone around you; how to take what you’re given, the good and the bad, and live with it, and adapt to it. His eyesight continues to worsen with each passing year and yet he soldiers on, telling people that he may be losing his eyesight, but not his vision.

So, I once again realize that I have learned to be happy; I've earned happiness and I am responsible for keeping it. It is, after all, all you really get in life.

Happy. New Year.

xoxo

Bob, Carlos, Consuelo and Rosita.

Thank.Full.

I first posted a version of this back in Ott-Eight, a few days after I started this here blog thing … cripes, I’ve been doing this sixteen years … and have edited it, as need be, and reposted it every year to remind me of where I was then, what I thought then, and what I wanted out of life. And every year as I repost it, I realize that the more things change the more they stay the same.

Now, not to brag, but I've been told that I am an extremely polite person. I was raised on Please and Thank  You, Yes Ma'am, No Sir, and I still act that way today.

True story: I was selected for jury duty when we lived in Miami and when it was my turn to be questioned, I stood up in the very narrow aisle and put my hands behind my back. As I was questioned, I replied Yes sir and No Sir. The judge stopped and smiled.

"Are you in the military?" he asked.

"No, sir" I said. "I was raised by a military man and a Southern woman."

True story: A few years before that, while living in California, I was in a grocery store buying a birthday cake for a coworker. I asked if I may please order a cake. May I please have a name iced onto it? I ‘Pleased’ and ‘Thank you'd’ my way through the entire process and finally as the girl was leaving to finish my order, she turned and said, “I think you are the politest person I've ever waited on."

I smiled and said, "Could you just shut up, please, and ice my damn cake!"

When all else fails I slip into sarcasm. That's my motto, and I’m thankful for that, too, but I digress.

Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday, probably because there are no gifts involved, except for the gift of time and good food and drink; time spent with loved ones and friends; the gift of thanks. A day of thanks; a truly American holiday, like 4th of July, but one we celebrate not with picnics and beer, firecrackers and sparklers, but with a meal shared with friends and family, and pets, always the pets.

I have so much to be thankful for again this year. Yes, the usual family and friends and health and happiness, blah blah blah, everyone says that, but this year, with the exception of another awful day in February … my least favorite month.

One of those bad days is nearly two years past, the day Tuxedo left us, and it still hits me every single day; but I am thankful for the many years with the Greatest Cat Ever, and his little buddy MaxGoldberg, who left us in 2022, and for Ozzo, that wee black dog that used to tear across the back yard with a four-foot tree branch in his mouth begging to play fetch.

And that bad February day this year when my father passed away. I was lucky—is lucky the right word—to be sitting at his side when he passed, just like I had done when my mother died in 2007; I felt them leave, felt that love, and was thankful for having them in my life all those years, and since then.

My father was a tough man who may not have expressed love openly often—though his last words to me were “I love you.”—but he did so when it was important.

The day I came out to him, he said, “You’re my son and I love you.”

The day I move to Miami to start this life with Carlos, he said, “Be happy. I love you.”

The day Carlos and I got married, he said, “I love you both.’

I am thankful for the time and the years and the memories.

I am thankful for this link around the world that I have found with bloggers, where I find people very different from myself, and people very much like myself, and we all co-exist peacefully. I still miss the glorious Anne Marie and her love for F-bombs and disdain for ABBA, something we shared, and I am grateful for the bloggers who still blog and the words and opinions and jokes and Candy Shop photos they share.

As a gay man I know all too well that … cue PSA music … It Gets Better.

Twenty-four years ago, when we began this ride, Carlos and I couldn’t be legally married anywhere in America, and here we are now, married for nine years … in South Carolina of all places. I am thankful for that every day and will fight to the death anyone who thinks our marriage can somehow be erased. Carlos and I are husband and husband and that’s how it will stay. That bell cannot be unrung, no matter who says what. No matter who sits on the Supreme Court.

Trust. And be thankful.

I am thankful for the years I had with my sister—I miss her every single day—because of the things she taught me and continues to teach me. I am grateful to her four daughters, all of whom she raised so well that when Carlos and I told them we were getting married, they all responded, “Now he really is our Uncle.”

I am thankful to my Mom, especially today. Thanksgiving was her holiday; cooking for her family was my mother’s greatest joy and a great gift to all of us. I am thankful that I can keep that tradition alive and can see my Mom in myself as Carlos and I cook dinner for our friends. I am thankful for her kindness, even to those who were unkind to her; I am grateful for her laughter, which I can still hear in my head, and the way she would say, ‘Bye-bye, sweetie, I love you,’ as we ended a phone call.

I am thankful for icy cold mornings and clear blue skies … colored leaves falling. I am thankful for Consuelo and Rosita because, well, I'm bigger than them and I will always beat them ... just channeling a little Joan Crawford and Christina at the pool.

I am thankful for Carlos. Every.Single.Day. There isn’t a day that goes by that I don’t think about how lucky I am to have him; even the days when he makes me insane … more insane. I realize I’d rather be driven nuts by him for a moment than not to have him in my life at all. I am thankful for the smirk he gives me; I am thankful for the look of horror on his face when I bust out a showtune; I am just plain thankful. I don’t know where I’d be, or who I’d be, if I hadn’t met him all those years ago.

I am thankful for music and pets and soft blankets and breathing and speaking, and having a voice to use, and use often. I realize we are still facing a tough time in this country; we are still facing division; we are still seeing our Black and Brown brothers and sisters killed by police, and self-entitled crybaby vigilantes; we are still seeing our trans brothers and sisters murdered; we still see hate; we are seeing hatred towards refugees fleeing their homeland to come to a country built by immigrants and slaves.

But I remain hopeful, hope filled, and thankful, that this country, most of this country, will once again stand against that hate and divisiveness; I am thankful that we will stand for one another and not against one another; that we will stand up to those who hate; speak out against those who use fear to intimidate others; resist those who are untruthful. I am thankful that more people are standing up for those who may not feel like anyone would ever stand for them.

I am thankful for being woke. Yes, I am thankful for that … and thinking being feeling loving breathing laughing crying living and speaking.

For Life … and all it encompasses.

To Life.

Thanks.

PS We are celebrating Thanksgiving tomorrow with chosen family members and friends and then I'm taking the weekend off. 

Have a thankful day and I'll see y'all on Monday.

Bobservations

Carlos’ knee has been bothering him and he spoke to his doctor who said it sounds like arthritis. Well, Carlos loathes aging—though the alternative isn’t fun—and didn’t like that diagnosis, so he made an appointment with a Bone and Joint doctor here in Camden.

Last Friday we saw the doctor—and I’ll cut to the end here and say that doctor said it appears to be arthritis—and as we waited in the exam room, chatting, I looked across the room and saw this:

Two different shoes. Two.DIFFERENT.Shoes! Luckily, Carlos doesn’t take himself too seriously, and even showed off his new style to the doctor!

This Tuxedo Says is from May 2020 … still under lockdown:

“I have offered up Tuxedo's services to local agencies as the spokes-cat for the lockdown. So far no takers.”

I was trying to make a few coins from a pandemic, y’all!

As seen on Facebook:

I can’t wait for 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue to be added to the National Sex Offender Registry.

Aaaaaaaaand scene!

You know, at the end of the day, all you really need are some working-class cakes to relax with at home.

Part of the inheritance from my father’s estate arrived in South Carolina this week—that’s it up there—and I was happy to see it.

This Seth Thomas Mantle Clock was purchased by my mother and father on their honeymoon in 1955 … so it’s been in our family for nearly 70 years.

For a long while the clock didn’t work, though it would mysteriously chime every so often, but when I got my first job in high school, I decided to steal the clock from the house and have it fixed and then gift it back to the family on Christmas morning.

Luckily, no one missed it for the couple of weeks it was missing, and then on Christmas day, I got up early, wound the clock and set the time, and then when it went off at 7AM, and actually chimed the correct number, I told my family what I had done.

My Dad said then and there that the clock would be mine, and here it is.

Rosita is not a fan of the clock. After it arrived at the house I unpacked it and would it and set in on Carlos’ antique desk in the living room—our mantle is a wee bit too shallow for this clock—and every time it chimed that first day, Rosita would tear out of the room and disappear into the master bedroom closet.

For all her bravado, she a scared little Puddy Tat!

Ladies and Gentleladies, the first photo of the new First Family, featuring, right there, circled in red, the new First Lady “Elonia Musk.”

The nickname follows a flurry of palace intrigue around Musk’s, AKA Leon Skum’s, appearance in a “family photo” that featured the X owner but not once-and-future First Lady Melanie.

The “First Lady” moniker picked up steam as rumors swirled that Musk’s online nemesis author, Stephen King, trolled him on X with that new name, and Musk banned him from his rightwingnut hate platform.

So much for Elonia’s calls for Free Speech, eh?

Cooper Koch is an American actor, known for his portrayal of Erik Menendez and a certain nude scene, but this is more about Would You Hit It?

Why Is It ...

… that even though I often check myself, I tend to wreck myself?

… that I don’t have a “train” of thought but instead have seven trains on four tracks that narrowly avoid each other when their paths cross and all the conductors are screaming.

… that when I see the sign that says “Please See Cashier” I get right back into my car and find another gas station?

… when someone asks me what essential oils might best calm down my family, my mind instantly goes to chloroform?

… that when I invite people to my house for a party, they get upset that I really meant, ‘Come over and help me fold clothes’?

… that my boss hates when I bring a sort of ‘We should all quit’ vibe into the office?

… that whenever I see a Facebook ‘memories’ post of mine, I’m always wearing the same shirt … the one I have on right now?

… that there are days when coffee isn't enough, and I wish I could be struck by lightning?

Just Saying ... Not My Month

 We hate February in my family.

My mother passed away in February 17 2007.

My Aunt Pam passed away February 14, 2009.

My sister Jeri passed February 1,5 2014.

My father passed away February 1, 2024.

And while some of you may not count your pets as family, I do, and so ... Tuxedo passed away February 15, 2023.

February sucks.

I was home for a long weekend last week, and am back in Oregon for a few days and then will come home for a long stretch as probate does its thing. I don't know when I'll post anything other than gloomy stuff but I will be back with snark and politics and architecture and pop culture and fun as soon as I can.

Thanks!

Dad

My father passed away February 1^st at the age of 91. He passed quietly and peacefully, surrounded by family who laughed and told stories and reminisced about my dad ... and I will give you a few of my favorite Dad Tales …

When I came out to my family, my father’s first words to me were, “You’re my son and I love you.”

When I decided to move 3000 miles away from family because I’d met Carlos and knew that was where I belonged, he said “Be happy, I love you.”

And when he spoke his last words to me, the night before he passed, he said, “Take care of yourself, I love you.”

The day he died, other than waking up at midnight and asking the nurse if he was still alive, and saying “Oh shit: when she told him, “Yes,” my dad didn’t say another word to me; but that was all I needed. I love you.

My nieces, Ashley, and Betsy, were there, as was my sister-in-law, Debbie, and we sat with Dad and held his hands and told stories and laughed and cried, and after one particularly loud laugh session, we noticed his breathing had stopped and he was gone.

I will always believe he heard us laughing, and thought to himself that we were going to be fine, and he could leave.

Thanks Dad. I love you.

Back

What a week or so. My father called me on a Tuesday to say that his cardiac doctor needed to see him right away at the hospital in Corvallis so I found a flight, packed a bag, and was on my way at 4:30 AM EST  the next day. With time differences and such I arrived at my Dad’s house at 9 PM PST … a long day. At my Dad’s house he said we’d needed to leave for the hospital around 3 AM to see the doctor first thing; I found a minute to sleep and then off we went.

At the hospital there was confusion as to why my Dad was there and he kept saying that his doctor asked him to come in and talk about aortic valve replacement; my father suffered from COPD and heart issues affect the breath as well, so replacing the valve would be good for his breathing. Trouble was, the cardiac team felt that his age, he’s ninety-one, and the health of his heart, not good, might make surgery too risky so they suggested medications and oxygen and then uttered to phrase …

“That’ll give you about six months.”

I hate that phrase because no one actually knows; it could be 6 days or weeks or months or even a few years and I hate the end date-ness of it all. But my Dad and I talked about the surgery and the risks and he decided to take the Go Home route. I reminded him of my mother …

In 2006 my mother was diagnosed with lung cancer; she did chemo, twice, and then radiation, and in early 2007 she said, “No more.” She had been a nurse and knew what was coming and she opted to stop treatment and just let nature take its course. Family came to visit and in early February 2007, she passed away in her home with my dad, my sister and I by her side. I felt it very peaceful.

And I told my dad that, for me, if you could pass away in your own home, with family by your side, as well as his dog, that might be the way to go; that’s what I would want for myself … the last faces I see being those of loved ones and pets and not doctors and nurses.

And he thought for a while and decided that would be his choice. They kept him in the hospital because he wasn’t allowed to be released with the oxygen and between a wicked winter ice storm and frigid temperatures, and the MLK Day holiday, he wasn’t able to get home until the following Wednesday. The next day hospice came in and made plans to be at his house three days a week to start to check on him,  his meds and such, and then, when the time comes that he cannot take care of himself we switch to full-time hospice care.

He doesn’t like that, but he also doesn’t have a choice; neither my brother nor I can be there full-time, though Carlos and I will visit often, so he’ll need to adjust, and when the time gets close, we’ll fly out as quickly as possible like we did with mom.

And Ashley, one of my nieces, has suggested she go up and stay with my Dad for a while; she's working an online job and so she can work anywhere. And as she says my Dad is her favorite relative, and he feels the same about her, it sounds like a plan. We have been speaking for the last few days and talkin g about what needs to be done, and how stubborn my Dad can be and how she needs to approach that, but I think it will work out quite nicely.

All I want is a peaceful transition for my Dad; he’s stubborn as Hell, so who knows when that will happen, but when it does I will be there with Carlos and my brother to send him off.

It’s all you can do really.

So, I’m home and thankful to be here and thankful for the people in my life, for Carlos and his support and strength and listening ear, and in the internet world, for all of your thoughts and good vibes. I am not a man who prays but a positive thought is always welcome, and for that I am greatly appreciative.

I'm Still Here ...

... in Oregon where we just had a wicked snow and ice storm leaving nearly everything frozen,
My father is still in the hospital and has opted to not have the surgery, aortic valve replacement. After talking with the cardiac team, he understood that the risks of the surgery outweigh the benefits for a ninety-one year old man with an  already compromised heart. One of the effects he's enduring is shortness of breath and the doctors will monitor that with medication and oxygen when he returns home.
For now we will deal with quality of life and not quantity. I will be here a few more days until my brother arrives; we have arranged for hospice-palliative care to help Dad around the house doing things for him, errands and such.
It's not the ideal outcome, but it's the outcome we have and will do what's best for my Dad and for the time he has left.
Thank you all for your positives thoughts and vibes, it means a lot to me, and as my Dad read them , it meant a lot to him.
I will take a few days when I get home to spend with Carlos and then return the blogging perhaps the 22nd,

Away From My Desk ...

I am on my way to Oregon this morning. My father is set to have a heart procedure tomorrow and I will be out there helping him to and from the hospital and then home as well.
I will be back soon-ish ...

Happy New Year

I love a New Year.

A new start, so to speak, and the thought of infinite possibilities, even though there is still a darkness of anger and racism and greed all around us. But, maybe I am a bit of a Pollyanna, I believe times are changing; people are growing tired of billionaires whining about witch hunts, tired of religion as politics, tired of faith being used as a weapon against women. Tired of another round of battles inflicted by the right on women, and people of color and immigrants and LGBTQ+ people.

Think of what might happen of women and people of color, immigrants and LGBTQ+ Americans, along with our allies, all stood up and voted every single time; think of the changes we could make in this country … equality, fairness, acceptance.

And, while the numbers may be adding up faster than I ever thought possible, I like the idea of being another year older, and another year wiser; okay, maybe not older. As I once told my sister who thought I never seemed to age, The Gays aren't allowed to age, so I don't mind the extra year under the belt … as long as it doesn’t puddle over my belt.

I look back on the past year, remembering the good times, the hard times, the bad and sad times, because they are all apart of life. I still wake up every morning saying Hello to Tuxedo and whispering Goodnight atm the end of the day; I still miss the Pocket Dog racing through the house like a small black blur; and I miss MaxGoldberg, heavy as a cinderblock, sleeping on me at night.

And yet while looking back, I also look forward to doing more, and learning more, thinking more, reading more, loving more, laughing more. These aren't resolutions, as I don't make resolutions because when I do, they last about as long as it takes me to say ‘resolution.’ These are promises and wishes, hopes and dreams, positive thoughts that 2024 will be a far better year for all of us, around the world, than 2023.

So, I'll leave you all to have a good day, with a repost of some New Year’s Day thoughts:

The more things change :::blibbety blah blay bloo touch me::: the more they remain the same:  I am a believer in happiness. My parents raised their children to believe that happiness is all we really get in life, and that everything else follows. 

Things don't make us happy, at least not for long. And you can't expect people to make you happy either; you either have it to begin with, and others add to it, or you don't. If you don't believe that, just look around at all the sad, angry, lonely faces you pass on the street. Happiness is something you possess, that you give out, and get back. But we are each responsible for our own happiness; responsible to find it, to hold on to it; to nurture it and share it.

Without happiness in ourselves, for being ourselves, how can we expect to live fully and completely. We suffer loss every day; I've had my share and, sad to say, I know there's more to come, but I feel happy in the memories I have of those who've gone on ahead. I still, even as I reread this from years past, mourn the loss of our MaxGoldberg; that one hit me hard because he was pure happiness, and now he’s gone.

And, yes, I know it's hard to be happy when times are hard … 2020 and 2021 anybody? Sure, we have a new, better, smarter, kinder, more compassionate president, and he’s gotten a lot done, but there’s still more on his plate which makes me wonder if things will ever get better. I like to think it will, though it might not be the better I was thinking it would be, but I have seen tough times and I have seen it get better, so I will remain hopeful, because of the things I have learned.

I learned, from my Father the Teacher, never to stop learning and reading and speaking and, well, ranting; the more you learn, the more you grow, and understand, the more happiness you can accept. I've also learned that the best thing you can do for the people you love is to be there, when they need you.

I learned, from my Mother the Nurturer, to care for things, for people, for animals, for life; to make each day better for those around us, and to make it better for ourselves in the end. I have learned to hold family close; never let them go; whether it's the family you were born into, or the family you created out of necessity; hold on to them, and protect them, and love them. 

I learned, from my Sister the Temper, to speak up; why sit quietly and let things happen to you? Stand up and demand the things you want, the happiness you want. Don't settle. 

I learned, from my Brother … well, let’s just say he taught me that people change dramatically … ignore science, even after contracting COVID; that people who never voted will support a traitorous rapist racist. He taught me that people change, and not always for the better, but we are all human and perhaps one day he will change again.

I learned from the Blog People that, while we all may have different lives and different backgrounds and different ideas, we can communicate and listen and learn. I thank all of you for your blogs and the things you say that make me laugh and smile, cry and rant, learn, and even sometimes sing and dance.

I learned from the pets we lost in the last year or so ... MaxGoldberg, Tuxedo, and Ozzo ... and the ones we've lost through the years that sheer, unmitigated joy and pure unconditional love are real things to be accepted and given right back. 

I learned, from my Husband the Optimist, how to actually let go and be in love and damn the torpedoes; how to be open and honest and know that it won't hurt; how to love yourself, and everyone around you; how to take what you’re given, the good and the bad, and live with it, and adapt to it. His eyesight continues to worsen with each passing year and yet he soldiers on, telling people that he may be losing his eyesight, but not his vision.

So, I once again realize that I have learned to be happy; I've earned happiness and I am responsible for keeping it. It is, after all, all you really get in life.

Happy. New Year.

xoxo

Bob, Carlos, Consuelo and Rosita.

Thank.Full.

I first posted a version of this back in Ott-Eight, a few days after I started this here blog thing, and have edited it, as need be, and reposted it every year … for fifteen years … to remind me of where I was then, what I thought then, and what I wanted out of life. And every year as I repost it, I realize that the more things change the more they stay the same.

Now, not to brag, but I've been told that I am an extremely polite person. I was raised on Please and Thank You, Yes Ma'am, No Sir, and I still act that way today.

True story: I was selected for jury duty when we lived in Miami and when it was my turn to be questioned, I stood up in the very narrow aisle and put my hands behind my back. As I was questioned, I replied Yes sir and No Sir. The judge stopped and smiled.

"Are you in the military?" he asked.

"No, sir" I said. "I was raised by a military man and a Southern woman."

True story: A few years before that, while living in California, I was in a grocery store buying a birthday cake for a co-worker. I asked if I may please order a cake. May I please have a name iced onto it? I ‘Pleased’ and ‘Thank you'd’ my way through the entire process and finally as the girl was leaving to finish my order, she turned and said, “I think you are the politest person I've ever waited on."

I smiled and said, "Could you just shut up, please, and ice my damn cake!"

When all else fails I slip into sarcasm. That's my motto, and I’m thankful for that, too, but I digress.

Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday, probably because there are no gifts involved, except for the gift of time; time spent with loved ones and friends; the gift of thanks. A day of thanks; a truly American holiday, like 4th of July, but one we celebrate not with picnics and beer, firecrackers and sparklers, but with a meal shared with friends and family, and pets, always the pets.

I have so much to be thankful for again this year. Yes, the usual family and friends and health and happiness, blah blah blah, everyone says that, but this year, with the exception of one awful day in February, has been good. I am thankful that Carlos and I are fine; we have been pricked and boostered and can say that neither one of us has ever tested positive for COVID.

That one bad day: the day Tuxedo left us, and a day that hits me every single day since. But I am thankful for the many years with the Greatest Cat Ever, and his little buddy MaxGoldberg, who left us in 2022.

I am also grateful for the memories of a wee black dog tearing across the back yard with a four-foot tree branch in his mouth begging to play fetch; Ozzo was one of a kind.

I am thankful to this link around the world that I have found with bloggers, where I find people very different from myself, and people very much like myself, and we all co-exist peacefully. I am grateful to our dear Anne Marie and her love for F-bombs and disdain for ABBA, something we shared. I miss her wit and sarcasm and musical Saturdays, but I am thankful for having have them. I also miss her husband, ArTeeGee, who left us to join her. I am grateful for the bloggers who still blog and the words and opinions and jokes and Candy Shop photos they share.

And I am thankful, as well as hopeful, that even though America is still mired in hate and division, us versus them, and criminality, there are still spots of decency and inclusion and hope. I may be a bit of a Pollyanna but I am hopeful that things will change and we will keep our government from the hands of tyrants, racists, bigots and traitors. Sure, it’s still a bit dark here, but we are all becoming more aware that if we want to change we must make change and I am thankful that we live in a country where we have that freedom.

As a gay man I know all too well that … cue PSA music … It Gets Better.

Twenty-three years ago, when we began this ride, Carlos and I couldn’t be legally married anywhere in America, and here we are now, married for nine years … in South Carolina of all places. I am thankful for that every day and will fight to the death anyone who thinks our marriage can somehow be erased. Carlos and I are husband and husband and that’s how it will stay. That bell cannot be unrung, no matter who says what. No matter who sits on the Supreme Court.

Trust. And be thankful.

I am thankful for the years I had with my sister—I miss her every single day—because of the things she taught me and continues to teach me. I am grateful to her four daughters, all of whom she raised so well that when Carlos and I told them we were getting married, they all responded, “Now he really is our Uncle.”

I am thankful for my Dad. He didn’t ask for a gay son, but he got one; he didn’t know what to do with a gay son, but he did the best he could. And, when the time came to marry Carlos, it made my Dad’s day that he could be there. I wish every gay person could have a Dad like mine, who sees that change is good, and sees that not everyone is alike—even in your own family—but who loves you just the same. I am thankful and grateful that he came through his surgery feeling good and strong and ready to rumble.

I am thankful to my Mom, especially today. Thanksgiving was her holiday; cooking for her family was my mother’s greatest joy and a great gift to all of us. I am thankful that I can keep that tradition alive and can see my Mom in myself as Carlos and I cook dinner for ourselves and friends. I am thankful for her kindness, even to those who were unkind to her; I am grateful for her laughter, which I can still hear in my head, and the way she would say, ‘Bye bye, sweetie, I love you,’ as we ended a phone call.

I am thankful for icy cold mornings and clear blue skies … colored leaves falling. I am thankful for Consuelo and Rosita because, well, I'm bigger than them and I will always beat them ... just channeling a little Joan Crawford and Christina at the pool.

I am thankful for Carlos. Every.Single.Day. There isn’t a day that goes by that I don’t think about how lucky I am to have him; even the days when he makes me insane … more insane. I realize I’d rather be driven nuts by him for a moment than not to have him in my life at all. I am thankful for the smirk he gives me; I am thankful for the look of horror on his face when I bust out a showtune; I am just plain thankful. I don’t know where I’d be, or who I’d be, if I hadn’t met him all those years ago.

I am thankful for music and pets and soft blankets and breathing and speaking, and having a voice to use, and use often. I realize we are still facing a tough time in this country; we are still facing division; we are still seeing our Black and Brown brothers and sisters killed by police, and self-entitled crybaby vigilantes; we are still seeing our trans brothers and sisters murdered; we still see hate; we are seeing hatred towards refugees fleeing their homeland to come to a country built by immigrants and slaves.

But I remain hopeful, hope filled, and thankful, that this country, most of this country, will once again stand against that hate and divisiveness; I am thankful that we will stand for one another and not against one another; that we will stand up to those who hate; speak out against those who use fear to intimidate others; resist those who are untruthful. I am thankful that more and more people are standing up for those who may not feel like anyone would ever stand for them.

I am thankful for being woke. Yes, I am thankful for that … and thinking being feeling loving breathing laughing crying living and speaking.

For Life … and all it encompasses.

To Life.

Thanks.

PS We are celebrating Thanksgiving tomorrow with chosen family members and friends and then I'm taking the weekend off. 

Have a a thankful day and I'll see y'all on Monday.

Bobservations

Y’all know by now that Carlos and I love us some Jeopardy, and I am constantly stunned by the severe lack of knowledge some people have; it scares me for the future of the world that last week two out of three contestants could not answer a simple question about ::: gulp::: The Golden Girls in a category called Everything’s Coming Up Rose:

“In 1986 she won an Emmy for playing Rose Nylund on The Golden Girls.”

Naturally, Carlos and I shrieked:

“BETTY WHITE!!!”

The first guy answered:

“Who’s McClanahan?”

And then Carlos and I screamed:

“BETTY WHITE!!!!”

The second guy, a self-professed homosexual who was subsequently asked to turn in his Gay Card, said:

“Who is Bea Arthur?”

And we screamed and threw our shoes at the TV:

“IT'S BETTY FUCKING WHIIIIIIIIIITE!!!!!!!”

The third contestant did not offer an answer but gets no props for not knowing that it was FUCKING BETTTY WHITE!!!!

It took me several hours to calm down.

Carlos is still annoyed.

This is a post from August 2009 and is Tuxedo through and through:

“Sunday Morning Tuxedo.”

Again, I was constantly amazed at how he would decide to sprawl out on a rug or chair or windowsill. He was all about comfort.

On the PBS show, Finding Your Roots, Henry Gates traced the ancestry of famous people. Every week is an interesting show, but one time he featured actor Tamera Mowry. Mowry is biracial—her mother is Black, her father is white—and learned that on her mother’s side, her family were slaves in the Bahamas and then in America.

But on her father’s side she was told her ancestors originally lived in England and were victims of religious persecution until they fled to the US aboard a little ship called the Mayflower. Mowry let all that sink in and then held her left hand UP, saying:

“This side of my family started this whole thing, and then … [she held up her right hand] … they enslaved this side of my family.”

What an amazing perspective on her ancestry.

It's a fascinating show if you aren’t watching.

It’s official, Thing 45 has been found guilty of the sexual abuse and defamation of E Jean Carroll and ordered to pay her $5 million.

I wonder how the MAGAts will feel paying this bill for him.

Ah, Murphy's Law ... Last Sunday was a housekeeping and yard cleaning kind of day; lawns mowed, hedges trimmed, laundry done and the oven cleaned. I tackled the lawn first and it went bad quickly. The week prior Carlos had been pulling these invasive vines out of some trees in the side yard. He would then take the vine and roll it up like an electrical cord and tie it up in a bundle and toss it on the ground with some leaves. I didn't know he'd left them there, under the leaves, and so I ran the mower over the leaves to mulch them, but one of the coiled vines wrapped itself around the mower blade and jerked the whole machine to a standstill. 

We tried to get the vines off to no avail, and then called a lawn mower service to fix the problem and do the routine maintenance on the mower. To the tune of some $400. Ah, well, we learned a lesson to not tie up vines into little bundles and to not run the riding mower over a pile of leaves because we don’t know what’s under it.

Next, I'm back in the house setting the oven to clean; a three-hour process which means the oven and stove are unusable until about 3PM. I wanted to grill salmon and do it up with all kinds of veggies and serve it over rice, so I set about prepping the dinner. I sliced onion, poblano pepper, mushrooms, fresh ginger, garlic, carrots, celery, broccoli, scallions and fresh cilantro. 

After the oven was cleaned, and wiped out, I decided to start dinner and took the prepped veggies out and set them on the counter. I then thought, to keep it light and fresh, I’d drizzled a little Rice Wine vinegar over the veggies when they were sautéing so I grabbed the bottle of vinegar off the top shelf. It slid out of my hand and landed on the plate of prepared veggies, shattering the plate and sending veggies sailing all over the kitchen.

Oy, the curse words that rained through the house as I cleaned up the mess and then meticulously set about slicing more veggies for my dinner.

At least it tasted good; I think. I was still kinda seeing red at my clumsiness.

First Thing 45 and now this … federal prosecutors have filed criminal charges against New York Representative George Harrison Takei Lucas Michael Orwell Kitara Ravache Pinocchio Santos whose blatant lies about every single facet of his life stunned everyone … except Republicans who honor liars.

He has been indicted on 13 counts, including seven counts of wire fraud, three counts of money laundering, one count of theft of public funds, and two counts of making materially false statements to the House of Representatives.

And he swears … foot stomp, head snap, hands on hips … he’s innocent.

Federal prosecutors investigating Thing 45’s handling mishandling of classified documents have obtained the confidential cooperation of a person who has worked for him at Mar-a-Lago, part of an intensifying effort to determine whether Thing 45 ordered boxes containing sensitive material moved out of a storage room there as the government sought to recover it last year. The name of the confidential informant is not being released but I have an idea …

Italian actor Stefano Gianino is famous for his role as Niccoló in The White Lotus. Where he showed off all his goods. But this isn’t about that, it’s … Would You Hit It?