Gee, it's been a while...

The world spins quickly these days, both writ large and close to home. I opened up an email from my mother to discover that my brother has West Nile virus. He's feeling pretty bad right now.

Tim and I are getting ready to head on out to Chicago over Labor Day for a square dance weekend. I'll get to dance with my sister, who dances with the Chicago club. Tim and I have both been dancing with an Advanced club in Virginia. It has high standards (which is why I wonder why I'm dancing with them), that is, you really learn how Advanced can be danced. I am learning so much from their caller, John Marshall. I had danced to him before at community dances and fly-ins, but have never been consistently exposed to his calling and style. He's a master caller.

While I'm in Spain next month, several club members are going to have a "C1 Boot Camp." Brian J. has described it more as a "C1 Death March," and I think he may be right about that. I'm sorry to be missing that. I'll take my C1 book to Spain and study on the train (not!).

I finally got in to see the doctor for a physical. I got an MRI, and I found out this morning that he also wants chest X-rays. The MRI was a first for me. It's something like crawling under the bed in the basement, then having someone run a jackhammer two inches from your head, except you don't feel the vibrations. Weird noises, though. I may have a pinched nerve in my neck, and that's what the scan was for. I haven't a clue why the chest X-rays, though.

That's life in a nutshell around here. Nothing profound, but a little worrisome about my brother.

Okay, Okay, It's All about Glacier!

Before global warming makes my photos irrelevant, I thought I would post a link to my Glacier Park trip that I took back in May. It took me forever to get this pictures fixed the way I wanted. I guess I don't have my camera figured out all that well, yet, but I had a lot of fun snapping.

Glacier Vacation, 2006

May 18, 2006 - 107 Photos

My Bad Education

Netflix brings culture to the masses. It's convenient. It's fast. It's just you and the DVD in the privacy of your own home. This week, it was Almodovar's Bad Education. The film works a remarkable story within a story within a story of love, death, greed, and ambition. Its inner core has a beautiful sadness that colors everything else. I may have been the last person on the planet to see this, but if you haven't you really should.

I'm Delinquent in Reporting my Gay Life Style

Since the tooth incident, my gay life has not slowed down. I took some follow up photos. Nothing was quite as spectacular as the initial shot of the bloody, seething, pulpy, painful mass. I got that out of my system. The week after the extraction, I kept feeling something hard and sharp in the tooth socket. The day of my dental checkup, I was flossing, and a good-sized chunk of tooth fell into the sink. Finally, the whole tooth was out! The dentist (cute Dr. Perkins) said everyting looked okay, and an implant is probably in my future.

So what else do gay men do between teeth extractions? That's an important question (I often ask myself). The DC Lambda Squares went tubing down Antietam Creek last Saturday. The creek has a very rocky bottom, so traveling down on tubes is quite delightful if you are a versatile gay man. I think the straight people had a good time, too. Tom, who manned the rafting company's canoe, got plenty of attention from the guys; only one of us actually drooled, though. I'm fairly certain he knew his audience, and he was very good-natured about it.

Pastoral Scene on Antietam Creek,
Copyright 2006, Brian Jarvis, All Rights Reserved

And I survived the heat. It has been an incredible week, even for DC summers. I didn't see anyone melt or spontaneously combust on the sidewalks of Washington, but I would not have been surprised had it happened. The heat caused more people to ride the Metro (they probably didn't want to get caught in traffic jams on I-495). A couple of days the Metro cars were full at 6:30 in the morning. The tourists seemed to take it in good stride, and the Legg-Mason Tennis Tournament went on as scheduled. I'm used to hot weather, but this was exceptional.

The power in my office building failed Thursday morning around 11. We're on emergency backup, but I powered down immediately. Then the network went down. The phones (VOIP) went down. The lights were out. The air conditioning was off. So our work group went out to lunch. Eating seems to soothe most emergencies. In the meantime, our VP sent all employees home. I went and got a haircut, instead.

Actually, I had my hair styled. Bill, you bitch, you left me without telling me that you were going to a different salon. So I have to do the walk-in routine. There's a lot of fear in my gut, because I don't know who is going to style my hair, and Bill, I really loved you, I really did, and you left without a word.

So Donnell has entered my life. Donnell was a headliner entertainer at Ziegfeld's before evil developers bulldozed Washington's gay business district. He gave me all the dirt about the developers, politicians, management, and the girls. Donnell should have his own commentary on NPR, he's that good. And he's such a sweetheart, too, Bill.

I admit it, I'm a celebrity groupie. Donnell a.k.a. Ella Fitzgerald, when she's not entertaining the troops, wields a mean pair of scissors as a jolly, saucy, sometimes sharp-tongued gay hair stylist at one of Dupont's premiere salons. You see, having a gay life style, like I do, demands that I have a gay hair stylist like Donnell. And now I have earned some extra gay glitterati points, because of the fabulousness of Donnell's alter-ego. I am in gay heaven. And Donnell, you are such a sweetheart: not at all like Bill who spurned me for those chappies up on Capitol Hill, probably found himself a closet lobbyist or a Supreme Court justice. You never know about Bill.

Finally, this is the week of Lance Bass, and of course, I went out and bought People Magazine. Lance, your social commentary really sucks, but I love your goofy grin, anyway, and now you can enjoy the party without feeling like an uninvited guest. If I were forty years younger, you'd give me hope, being the crazy role model that you are, as I replayed all of my old N'Sync records thinking how much I love you.

I love being gay, because I love the intellectual challenge. Lance told me that's why he loves being gay, too.