Bobservations

Oh the things we do for love …

Backstory; several years ago my father had knee replacement surgery and I was out in Oregon helping with his recovery. He told me one day over breakfast that the pain pills made him constipated and the laxatives weren’t working so I might have to give him an enema. Long story short; my father dropped his pants, bent over the bathtub, and I did the deed.

Why tell that story now? Carlos has been having some stomach issues and his doctor requested a, um, er, sample. So Tuesday morning he had to use a human litter box, sans litter of course, and then scoop the poop into three small bottles. And because of his eyesight I was the one scooping the poop … after wearing several pairs of gloves and a COVID mask and then bleaching my fingers.

Again, what we do for love.

This Tale of Tuxedo is from  June 2010 and is another Tuesday Tuxedo. He just loved basking in the sun on a windowsill but often looked like he was riding the luge in the winter Olympics!

Such a peaceful punim.

There are times when just a tease of some cakes is all you need … oh who am I kidding!

A reporter from The Atlantic recently asked Arizona Democrat Senator Mark Kelly if he thought the country was “ready to have a disabled first lady” should Kelly run for president. It was a stupid, rude, insensitive question which Kelly answered like this:

"In my opinion, we have a disabled president right now."

Kelly was defending his wife, former Congresswoman Gabby Giffords, who survived a 2011 assassination attempt that left her with speech difficulties and some paralysis.

That’s how it’s done.

Well, apparently the lettuce responsible for the explosive diarrhea outbreak came from a  company called Taylor Farms lettuce.

But then Taylor Farms parent company, Taylor Fresh Foods, met with FDA and White House officials to discuss the situation; of note is that Taylor Fresh Foods wrote a $1 million dollar check to Cankles’ MAGA Inc super PAC back in March 2025.

And now the FDA says the positive sample was a "false positive," even as CDC traceback data keeps pointing back to Taylor Farms. Sure, maybe it really was a lab error but when regulators change their story right after a closed-door meeting with the same company that funded Cankles’ PAC skepticism isn't paranoia, it's just paying attention.

I read on Facebook that the big boss at Taylor Fresh Foods, Bruce Taylor, should sit down and have a big salad of Taylor Farms lettuce and then tell us all again about how his product is okay.

I see a boycott coming …. 

Ohio GOP Senator Bernie Moreno has introduced the “Countering Atmospheric Nuisances Arising from Drifting Airborne Foreign Incendiary Residual Emissions Act” or the CANADA FIRE Act ordering sanctions, including a ban on U.S. government contracts with Canada because wildfire smoke from Canada is drifting over the United States.

I’m surprised he hasn’t filed a lawsuit against the wind.

And here was a little gift sent to me by a blogging angel … Savannah Marsh Mama. I will now be logging my Gay Agenda as I move through the world … equality, equality, drag queens and all love; oh, and brunch, of course!

xoxo

This here is 29-year-old Hungarian model and former professional tennis player Dan Zsolt and the question once again is Would You Hit It?

Meme Dump ... Happy Pride

Meme Dump ... Happy Pride

Meme Dump ... Happy Pride!

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 for seventeen 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 …

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 ten 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 erase. 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 being ‘Dad’ to The Great tuxedo, MaxGoldberg, and Ozzo, for their entire lives, and for the joy they brought into our lives every single day. If you pay attention, you can really learn something about people from your pets, and not just unconditional love …

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 once again facing a tough time in this country; we are once again 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 once again 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.

I Loathe February: Mom

I  remember many things about my Mom.

The Mom who baked things for school.

The Mom who made the best Clam Chowder on rainy winter days.

The Mom who painted.

The Mom who laughed.

The Mom who loved you no matter what.

The Mom who, as soon as Carlos and I moved in together, would introduce him as her son-in-law.

The Mom who was married to my Dad for over 50 years.

The Mom whose greatest day every year was Thanksgiving and her whole family was near.

The Mom who was a Nurse.

The Mom who loved to travel.

The Mom who taught me to love books.

I love my Mom.

I miss my Mom.

Every day.

I Loathe February: Tuxedo

I originally posted this way back in September 2020 but remembering Tuxedo today, two years after he left us, this story makes me smile …

Now, many of you may remember last year when Consuelo escaped the house and spent a week in the backyard, and how worried we were about her. And she escaped because Carlos opened a sliding glass door and, he says, she ran out and he didn’t see her. Keep in mind, however, that Consuelo doesn’t run … except to a food dish. I believe she simply walked out the door and Carlos didn’t see her.

Cut to this week …and the near end of Carlos’ life as we know it. He was headed up the driveway to check the mail and called for Ozzo to go with him; I head the kitchen door open and heard Carlos call Ozzo over and over again; then the door shut. Cut to about fifteen minutes later when I went into the kitchen and was going to feed the cats. I called them all, and Consuelo because it’s a meal, came running. And MaxGoldberg sauntered out. But no Tuxedo.

To be fair, sometimes Tuxedo skips dinnertime, but I still called for him; no Tuxedo. I began checking the places we know where Tuxedo sleeps; no Tuxedo. Carlos asked what I was doing and told him Tuxedo wasn’t around, so Carlos joined the search. I went into the master bathroom because Tuxedo does like napping on the window sill; no Tuxedo. Now, I’m frantic. I head back to the kitchen and see Carlos coming in from the garage with Tuxedo in his hands.

Tuxedo seemed a little scared; I assumed he’d gotten into the garage as Carlos opened the door, and then got stuck in there after Carlos came back inside. And, Tuxedo really was scared; he didn’t want to leave my side; he sat with me, crawled onto my shoulders; came into the kitchen as I cooked dinner and sat by me all night. I did tell Carlos he needs to be extra careful about Tuxedo, because that cat is a sneak and he’s fast—he runs like a madman—and to carefully open the door to the garage.

And, to torture Carlos a little longer, I rode the Traumatized Bus for the entire night, though, truth be told, I truly was very scared at the thought of that cat getting outside because he’d go off. Luckily, it was just the garage. Or was it.

As I told Carlos that I would be telling the take of The Traumatization of Bob and Tuxedo on my blog this week, he fessed up … and I was scared all over again.

You see, he opened the door to go out and check the mail, and held it open for Ozzo to come along, and held it open a little longer and that’s when Tuxedo made his escape, BUT … he also opened the garage door, walked up the hill, got the mail, came down the hill, closed the garage door and came into the house. And when I began searching for Tuxedo, he went into the garage, and then went out into the front yard, and there was Tuxedo, crying, meowing, in the yard…the front yard … the ‘Is that the road right there’ yard.

Lord … I loves me some Carlos but if that cat had escaped, because he was out front with no fence to contain him, this would have been a vastly different week at Casa Bob y Carlos. He asked if I would have called a divorce attorney and I said there'd be no need ... all I required was a good probate lawyer.

Just sayin’.

I Loathe February: My Sister

I posted this originally on my sister’s birthday, about seven years after she passed; it was never lost on me that the two most important women in my life, my mother and my sister, had birthdays in the same week, albeit years apart, and died in the same week, albeit years apart.

But this is about my sister, my big sister. My very first best friend; I loved her from the moment I was born, and I imagine she'd say she loved me from that second, too, even if I was 'the new baby.'

My sister, my big sister. We were very different; she was gregarious and outgoing and had tons of friends and was always doing something. I was shy, petrifyingly so—my mom used to joke that I 0didn't start talking until I was eighteen—and I had just a handful of friends.

My sister, my big sister. She could be as stubborn as a mule, and had quite the temper, while I always tried to please, and be the nice one, and not draw attention to myself. We were as different as night and day, and as thick as thieves.

My fondest memory of her is the day she taught me, without knowing it, how to say I love you. You see, that day she had called to chat, and we talked about everything, from what we were doing to what the world was doing and then, as we were saying our goodbyes, she said, All right then, I love you.

And I said … Thanks.

Thanks? That was my response to my sister saying I love you? I mean, I guess I meant to say Thank you for loving me but that isn't really the correct response either, is it? So, as I tend to do, I sat there after that phone call and wondered why it was so hard for me to say those words, and I realized that I come, came, from a family that didn't really ever 'say' the words. We showed our love; we knew we were loved; I guess we all felt we just didn't have to 'say' it. 

Add to that the idea that I also thought, subconsciously, at least back then, that I didn't deserve to be loved because I was the 'different' one; the gay son. I mean, my parents knew I was gay, and they were fine with it; they loved me. But I’ve always wondered if they ever hoped that I wasn't; no matter how much you love your gay children, as a parent you realize their lives would be easier if they weren't gay. So, I felt loved, but at the same time, unworthy of being loved because I wasn't the 'expected’ son.

My sister, thankfully, thought differently and could say I love you so easily and simply, without force, that it made me realize that I was worth it. And I thank her for that. After that conversation, and after my introspection, I listened to what she was saying: we all knew we were loved but she wanted us to hear it. And that made a huge difference.

Now, I didn’t change overnight and turn into one of those people that say I love you at the drop of a hat; it took time. I think the first time I said it back to her I probably choked on the words a little bit, as though they were somehow foreign to me, but it got easier and more natural.

I always knew my sister loved me, and I always will know it, it’s just that she made me realize I was worth it, and I could say it, and hear it and mean it and be it. That's just one of the lessons my sister taught me.

My sister, my big sister. My hero.

I Loathe February: Dad

It has been a year since my father passed away and while I mourn that loss, I want to once again share three 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.”

That’s all I needed to know.

Bobservation

Really just a singular Bobservation about the madness that can be me and my thoughts and how Carlos helps save me from myself.

Ooooh, dark, eh?

During Christmas, Carlos suggested a vacation, just the two of us, for some time in January. He said it was for my birthday and “other stuff,” and I knew what that meant.

You see, we’re coming up on a year since my father died and I have had this feeling that I might not live past that date; I said it was dark. I don’t dwell on it, but the fact that so many of my close family have died in February makes my mind go there, so Carlos planned a vacation.

In the last four years or so our “vacations” were just me, or sometimes the two of us, going to Oregon because my father had a health issue and needed help at home; and I was always glad to go and help, but it became a depressing thought … flights, airports, cars were not for fun trips but for family responsibility and that became a drag as much as I wanted to help and was only too happy to help, so Carlos planned a trip.

New York was a first choice because he knows how much I love it but the cold snap, with 30s during the day and below freezing at night kinda put a damper on exploring the city outdoors as we like to do, so he switched gears … Savannah.

All the years we’ve lived here we never visited so he thought a new place would be just the thing, and it was, except while we got a hair over an inch of snow, Savannah got nearly half a foot, so it was cold down there and icy down there and, yeah.

But it was just the trip we ... I ... needed. Just the two of us lounging in the hotel room in early mornings, and then going on walkabouts through the waterfront and down into the Historic District, the City Market, art galleries, coffee shops, hole-in-the-wall pubs and some upscale eateries. We wandered and ate and drank and drank some more, and then ate again, and laughed and talked and just had a good time.

It really was the getaway we both needed, me especially at this time. While I am generally a positive person, I can get dark and very introspective and a little nutty at times and while this trip didn’t change that ... I am still dreading the next few weeks ... it did give me, both of us, a much-needed break.

I joke about Carlos, pick on his eyesight, and his horrid hearing, his forgetfulness, his love of Nerd News, the disasters he leaves in the kitchen … that’s all. I kid; I joke about all of that but there is no one who gets me more and knows what I need and how to make me feel better on those Blue Days that come up, or maybe even the Blue Months. He understands that this first year will be difficult as my mind wanders into the abyss, but I really am very lucky that I found him, and he found me.

Now … that’s all … other than a few photos of Savannah.