Mysterious Mother

O Mother with your burning heart,
Sursum Corda on your lips,
Betrayed, the blade wedged in your valve.
Your skirted smile scarce hides your sorrow.
A golden crown can't salve your loss.
The lily's fragrance masks the stench
of death, of lost tomorrows.
O Mother's son sprained on the cross
O Mother's heart broke from the loss
A world quickly walks on by
lost in talk, concerns, and bills.
Your lips are closed to words expressed
that might explain your open breast,
spread apart with bleeding flames,
a heart afire that fans your pain.
O Mother, I can hardly stand to watch.
Not a wrinkle or a blemish on your face,
and yet you tear a hole in my own chest
That connects your picture frame to mine.

O Mother with your burning heart
Betrayed, that blade wedged in your valve.

An Important Part of Cooking

An important part of cooking is creating the smell. Try this: heat the oven to 400°F. Take some chicken giblets, and maybe the wing tips, and place them with a little oil and butter in a small iron skillet. Sprinkle them with salt, a grind of pepper, and two large pinches of thyme. Set the skillet in the oven for fifteen minutes. In the meantime, chop half an onion, a small carrot, and a stalk of celery. Add to the chicken giblets, and continue cooking for another 15 minutes or so.

Take a sniff. The smell is herby from the thyme. The onions are fragrant, and you can smell the sweetness of the carrot and the fresh whiff of the celery. The aroma hits my nose when I open the oven door.

Quickly, my chicken stock takes shape as I dump the skillet contents in a saucepan, and add some water, a bay leaf, some cloves, and allspice. As the stock bubbles, the wonderful smells continue, and my home smells lived in and loved. The joy of onions, carrots, and a chicken neck transform a cool autumn day into an abundant scent of memories.

The Elf Man Cometh

T'is the woolly season of fashion gone awry, and mysterious men ending up in the living room under bad lighting conditions. Fa-la-la-la-la-la-la! la! la! So much for gay apparel.

Santa's Little Lost Elf....

Thanksgiving: Revised

Wow, I had a wonderful Thanksgiving weekend, thanks to my friends and family, some great cooks, stunning conversationalists, and unintended irony from foreign nationals. For what could I lack? Of course, it was a wonderful holiday!

I had some misgivings about my vegetarian cornbread dressing, but when it came out of the oven, I knew it was a winner: too bad I didn't write down the recipe. Cornbread dressing is, perhaps, my favorite seasonal affective disorder medicine. It also cures rabies and erectile dysfunction, honestly, it does. It's the perfect accompaniment to anything on the holiday table, including very dry gin martinis.

Ron made some Road Kill Cabbage (okay, Rodkaal), a Danish delight that will undoubtedly grace our table in the future. Ron has a remarkable touch when it comes to cabbage; he's quite a Brassica oleracea Linne chef. The great thing about cabbage is its anti-inflammatory properties, as well as a source of vitamin C and Riboflavin. That's why I eat cabbage. I'm thankful for cabbage.

Most importantly, I'm thankful for my friends. We shared Thanksgiving, and the day after with friends, and had a wonderful time, talking and eating - two activities that complement each other. I love to eat. I love to greet, and I love Thanksgiving.

More Odds and Ends

Check out the Swartzentruber sisters. They make quilts, beautiful quilts in Holmes County, Ohio. Ron and I spent a day in Amish country, and had the privilege to visit their home and see the quilts. You should see them, too. Mrs. Swartzentruber asked us, "Where are your wives?" I told her that we weren't married, but I'm not sure if the situation sunk in.

The family reunion was nice. It was a pleasure meeting Davita. I hope that we didn't all scare her off. Joe and Karen's condo renovation project turned out fabulous. The view of downtown Chicago and the lake is unbeatable. Gracie and CJ love the unimpeded living room, and use it as an exercise room.

Coming over the Alleghenies, we saw some pretty colors. While we were in Holmes County, it was pretty rainy. Crossing the rest of Ohio and Indiana was anticlimactic, much like the leaden sky, overhead. In Chicago, Ron and I stayed at the Inn at Lincoln Park. Joe told me later that the hotel was slated for demolition so that developers could build a high rise and retail space, but when the property market crashed, the hotel gained a new lease on life. Pity.

The hotel was a little strange. Qualitywise, it's like an aging Quality Inn. You might want to stay on the lower floors, because the water on the upper floors wasn't always hot. The elevator is very European, as was the help, and the service. Very strange, indeed, in the heart of Chicagoland. The big plus was the bed. It was comfy.

Friday, we did some sightseeing with the family. Friday night ate at Bubba Gump's on Navy Pier. Saturday was at Karen and Joe's so that we could all see the new place. Sunday, Grace hosted a cookout. I made my famous Norwegian Potato Salad. Darryl is turning into quite a griller. We met his girlfriend. Karen, Joshua, and kids also came to the cookout. It was very nice seeing them.

This morning, Ron and I went to Millennium Park to see the shiny peanut. That place is classy. The fountain wasn't working, but the weather was beautiful, and we took a nice walk throughout the park and environs. From there it was out of Chicago, and on the road to Cincinnati, and we're holed up here in the Fairfield Inn.

Stonewall

Forty years ago, today, the homosexuals of New York City fought back. It wasn't the first time that gay people fought the police, but for all sorts of reasons, the Stonewall riots captured the gay imagination and consciousness and started us on the road to full civic participation in American society. No mean feat for a beaten up bulldyke and some drag queens who inspired a quiet crowd to get ugly and riot.

More power to them.

A Flurry of Activity!

The New Year has picked up its pace, although the old year never really slowed down that much, either. Perry and I went shopping on Friday morning. We first went to the Container Store, because he wanted some magnets. Neodymium magnets. Really strong magnets. These magnets have an exceedingly strong magnetic force. They can cause irreparable damage to floppy disks.

From the Container Store, we ventured to Borders in White Flint. Oh, I love the joys and sights of Rockville Pike! Perry was looking for a calendar. I picked up a "calendar" that contains a recipe for every day of the year. Ron is already thumbing through it.

Saturday night, I made one of those recipes, Spanish Tortilla, for the Montgomery County Gay Men's Community potluck. It was held at a friend of Ron's, so we decided to go. Well, the house was about 7500 square feet or more, and fitted by what appeared to be a decorator from hell. The theme upstairs was Victorian, and downstairs an American diner. Let's say it was over the top, and not one personal touch in any part of the house that I could see: prints, no originals. I guessed no one lived here, they were just part of the display.

The food was good, although Ron and I disagree on how good. Ron's and my contributions were both finished by the boys. One of the hosts, John, made a meat and bean dish that was very tasty, and a cake from cornmeal that was very good, although Ron thought the icing was too sweet. Honey, I hate to break the news, but icing is supposed to be too sweet!

I also enjoyed the company. I had a nice conversation with Duane. I really need to be more social. I get shy (I know that's hard to believe) and stand around without talking to anyone. This time, I struck up a very "deep" conversation with Duane about the nature of belief. Duane wondered why one needs to believe anything. And my lame answer is because it provides a purpose-driven life. I'll have to think about that.

In the meantime, I've been working on my contact database throughout. It's not very exciting, but it contributes to my purpose-driven existence. Yeah, right!

On Sunday, January 4, Ron and I attended a party. It was a nudist event. Great food, and for once an occasion where I was not seeing iceberg-sized behemoths of jiggly flesh. Most of the men, while not gym-toned, had not gone completely to the dinner buffet for refills, year after year. What a relief for my sore eyes. I thoroughly enjoyed the company, and all that encompassed, as well as the buffet the host had set out.

Again, in this situation, I have to force my self to talk with the other guys. They proved very friendly. Two men from Alabama struck up a conversation with me, and I felt a lot like Scarlett O'Hara (even though, I know [rolling my eyes] that she's from Georgia). One of the guys roots for Auburn, and the other for University of Alabama. Seriously, gay men talking about football! Frankly, my geography gets mixed up anywhere South of the Mason-Dixon Line. I think I could grow to enjoy the company of some Southern Gentlemen.

So yesterday, I went to the doctor to clear up a nagging sinus infection that has dogged me since Portugal, and to figure out what's causing the really annoying pain in my right knee that has dogged me since Christmas. Some days have been miserable, and that's saying a lot from me.

I like my doctor. He's a DO who has been a very good doctor for me. His assistant cleaned the wax out of my ears. I've been very stuffed up, and my ears had clogged when I tried to clean them a week ago. I had been walking around in an echoey fog. The tinnitus is still pretty loud, but I can hear better; the fog is gone. She got a lot of gunk out! The doctor came in and gave me a pep talk. He's kind of hot with curly hair and a two-day growth with that lab coat! He told me to get off the Sudafed^® and start the Nasonex^®. He also prescribed some clarithromycin for the sinuses and meloxicam for the knee. Better living through chemistry, although NSAIDs do scare me.

In the afternoon, I went over to Tim's house. He had a plumbing emergency going on. I provided him with some plumber information, but I think he went with someone else. He had some lame, vague reason about wanting this plumber or that plumber. I hugely enjoy Tim's company, even if he is preoccupied with plumbing. (I'll do some plumbing!)

Last night, Ron and I enjoyed a PBS special about India. Like the nation, the special is a production, and will continue for many nights hence. I don't care much for the narrator (the story sometimes seems all about him), but the scope of the story and the images of a great and enduring nation are compelling.

At the end, I went to bed.

T'Was Too Daze Before Christmas

Yesterday, I was in the mall getting a haircut. The crowds were thin, and I think any merriment in evidence was simply putting a rosy glow on the coal that's being delivered this Christmas. This is a glum Christmas for merchants and shoppers, two days before Christmas.

I was listening a to a financial show on the radio. A listener called in and mentioned that she was paying off her credit card debt. One of the panelists said that she needed to be spending instead, that if we didn't all spend, we'd end up in even a deeper recession. So, let me think.... I should keep on accumulating credit card debt at a 22% interest rate; it's patriotic. I'm so confused!

This is a weird economic time. Lawmakers talk about regulation, but the horse has already left the barn. Consumers want relief, but don't want the consequences of declining equity value. It's a great time to buy into the stock market, but people are afraid to buy for fear of an even larger slide.

Christmas isn't so jolly. Shoppers and merchants are in a funk. St. Nick only needs four reindeer this year. Rudolph has been laid off, and the elves are trying to renegotiate their labor contract. No bailout or bridge loan for the North Pole unless Christmas proves its viability. Santa told me that he's trying to take the bah out of humbug, but it's a tall order this year.

One Big Happy Family

Yesterday evening, Perry and I went to Nick's 50th birthday party. I think Perry and I were the gay contingent (there was also a high school contingent, and at least one guest that the other guests couldn't identify). Nick is one of seven kids, and five of his brothers and sisters, and his dad were there plus aunts, uncles, cousins, nieces, nephews, and lots of in-laws.

It was a big sprawly, loud, wonderful, happy birthday party. His family took Perry and me in like we were long lost relatives and made us feel completely at home. Nick (arrived late...) had a big grin, and made the rounds greeting everyone and being such a gracious guest of honor. I was really happy that Perry dragged me along to this joyful family affair.

I met Nick over ten years ago, and we worked a lot on local gay community stuff. We've kind of lost touch over the years, but have seen each other occasionally. Nick is still delightfully Nick. I've always thought he was a sharp looking guy. And he just gets more mellow, and good looking! At the party, his family had put together a collage of pictures, and it was very precious to look at. On the table, next to the cake, was his high school graduation picture. He looked like a stoner with a subtle smile and the wisp of a mustache playing across his top lip. Ah, the 70s, how we miss them!

The gift un-wrapping ritual featured Nick ripping wrapping paper off a mountain of gifts which featured tools, alcohol, and one Ken doll. Perry and I had "forgot" to put a tag on our gift, but somehow Nick, and everybody else, figured out who gave him the Ken doll.

We met most of Nick's brothers and sisters. I had a couple of memorable and delightful conversations with a brother, a sister, an aunt, and a sister-in-law. Nick comes from one of those quintessential American Families. The kind that's initial capped. The kind that Barack Obama and John McCain claimed to speak for. The kind that gives me infinite hope for America's future.

An Awesome Moment

Tuesday can be a historic moment. We can elect Barack Obama President of the United States.

I apologize to all of my regular readers, all four of you. I haven't been particularly faithful in my musings here for the last month or so. I'll try to do better in November.

I don't bite my nails, but if I did, I would be chewing between now and Wednesday morning. Every day, I go to RealClearPolitics.com and check out its electoral maps. Today, it's giving 311 electoral votes to Obama and 132 to McCain, with 95 tossups. I rework the numbers every day trying to figure out the combinations that Obama needs to win at the polls. It's still a cliffhanger in the College, a College that Maryland would like to change. Go Terps! or something like that.

I don't want the Presidential Electors of Ohio, Pennsylvania, or Florida to elect the President. I want the American people (no matter how deluded or stupid we may be) to elect the President. I'm really tired of this "Swing State" phenomenon, and think that all the states should be swing states. Maryland has a solution, and maybe within my lifetime, it will be working.

I'm holding my breath for Barack Obama. Although he's ahead in the polls and looks like he's headed for victory on Tuesday, the campaign isn't over yet. He is a transformational leader. John McCain is correct, Barack Obama will lead our country in a new direction - a change in economic policies, a change in health care policies, a change in international relations, a change in our war policies. America needs Barack Obama.

We stand at a crossroads. This election really is a choice. Do the American people continue with the failed policies of a bankrupt, neo-conservative philosophy that has taken us to war and wrecked our economy? Or do the American people vote for pragmatic policies that will restore our financial and economic soundness, provide universal health care coverage, and get us out of the Iraqi quagmire? McCain is not a maverick. He's a retread.

I'm also holding my breath about the outcome of Proposition 8 in California. All people should have the right to marriage. Shame on the backers of Proposition 8 for wanting to deny basic human rights to a class of people, and wanting to make that denial a constitutional ban. The campaign for the ban is mainly being financed by members of the Mormon Church. It appears that the church has been pressuring church members to contribute a lot of money (about $18 million or 77% of the total contributions) to the campaign. This campaign has the proponents spreading all kinds of lies about same-sex marriage, about education, about free speech, but very little about love, respect for human rights, or strengthening the family. Religious activists are attempting to force their views on the rest of us through deception and fear.

I'll continue to hold my breath until Tuesday.

By the way, the pumpkin carving party was fabulous. I now know the competition. These carvers are good! And scary! The Halloween Party afterwards, at the Lost River Grill was also a hoot. Ron and I went as Clark Kent and Wonder Woman - Over-the-Hill Superheroes. We looked good!

Back in the US of A

Go Barack!

While in Portugal, we saw pictures of our president looking like he was a deer caught in the headlights, and headlines streaming across the TV "America in Crisis." We couldn't understand the Portuguese, but we figured out from looking at W. that something was not quite right. I promise never again to leave America when it's in crisis. It's the least I can do for it.

Yep, I'm back home. I'm glad to be here, too. I was eating way too much food on the cruise ship, although I did not gain any weight when I was gone. However, the flab redistributed itself in an obnoxious way, and I look vaguely like Demi Moore on the cover of Vanity Fair. Oh well.

Life at Bucknell Terrace is getting back up to speed. I'm going to a square dance tonight in costume, because, after all, it is the season. It shows off my stomach well. Even if you can't see my abs, you can see my abdomen. I look so sexy!

Happy's New Square Dancing Outfit

Meanwhile, Back in Guimarães....

Grace and I finally left Bragança. We had a wonderful time there, fairy castle and all that stuff, and a marvelous time in the national park. And those wonderful windy roads on top of the hills where every turn displayed a new remarkable vista of the mountain valleys. Oh, I think we both will remember it a long time. And probably tell you about it for the next decade, at least!

From Bragança, we headed off to Guimarães, which is the birthplace of the Portuguese nation. It was here that one of those dukes of Bragança told the King of Leon to take a hike. The duke was no longer going to be a vassal, but instead was going to be his own man. So he fortified the castle in Guimarães, and set about his own way. We arrived there on Sunday. Nothing is open on Sundays on the Iberian Peninsula, until late in the day. We immediately got lost BUT found a parking place, parked the car, and decided to go exploring. Within a block of where we parked, we found a Residencia, and booked a room for the night. In order to park in front of the Residencia, though, we had to drive about 2 km because of the narrow one-way streets that only lead one deeper into the maze of the old city. The woman at the desk gave us a map and some elaborate instructions, and Grace navigated while I drove. We executed the drive flawlessly.

We had a beautiful room overlooking the street, complete with a balcony. Oh, it was very dramatic! And we do have pictures to prove it, too. We went into the neighborhood, had some ice cream and coffee, then set off for our daily adventure. We first found the ducal palace. It's built in the style of a French Chateau around a central courtyard. The palace was restored by the dictator Salazar, and he used it as one of his residences. It is now a residence of the President of Portugal when he is in the city. The palace is furnished with some beautiful tapestries, and period Portuguese furniture. All of the Portuguese were out to see their castle, too, and we saw lots of happy families enjoying their national treasures. It is a big heap of stone, and has fewer creature comforts than 2101 Bucknell Ter. On the other hand, it is definitely a palace.

Behind the palace is an imposing castle (of course) that was built by a countess in the 12th century to protect a monastery that she had founded from the Moors. The duke, when he declared independence from Leon, re-fortified the castle and the reconquest of Portugal from the Moors started in Guimaraes. Of course, we clambered all over the castle walls, after all, we are tourists. Then we went into the keep, and climbed all the way to the roof of the tower for some dramatic views of the old city and the new city beyond. These castles really are remarkable fortresses complete with multiple walls and fall back defenses to make them impregnable from anything except a very prolonged siege. The keeps and the inner walls all have storerooms, and all the keeps had cisterns or springs. The walls were designed with slots in them so that arrows could be fired from the walls such that they completely covered any advancing enemy line.

After the castle we walked down the oldest street in town, and Grace discovered an artists shop. It had tiles, icons, and other kinds of art from local artists - some really beautiful stuff. We looked through all of it, I think. You know, visiting shops like this is almost as good as visiting a museum. The shopkeeper was a young woman who was very friendly, and told us about the items in the shop, and about the town. Again, this was one of those remarkable conversations where a person befriended us and revealed something of the character of the Portuguese people. We found a genuineness and a friendliness that really captured our hearts. And we're grateful the the many kindnesses that people extended to us.

We went to a wonderful restaurant, the Vira Bar, in the old town, up many stairs to a delightful dining room that was romantic - very fitting for our final dinner in Portugal. We had a grilled black pork, Minho style with a bean and greens side, a mixed salad, and bola dos bolaches (literally cake of cookies) for dessert. Ummmm. I know I sound preoccupied with food, but it's an easy thing to do in Portugal.

The next day, we got on the road pretty early, and headed out to Porto. We hit the beach for an hour or so at Vila de Conde, then we went to the airport. With that, we said goodbye to Portugal. I don't think it will be the last time we visit. I'm already planning to return.

With love,

JB

Here's More Details

I apologize for the rather short earlier email today, but it was on my Blackberry, and my thumb finally gave out. As you can guess, we are having a wonderful time doing all sorts of stuff. We enjoyed the beach this morning, then spent some time this afternoon walking around the outside walls of Óbidos. It's probably a couple of kilometers, and a lot of up and down hill walking.

We left Lisbon on Saturday, rented our car, and headed out of town to Sintra, which was the summer residence of the Portuguese royal family. Sintra has a huge National Palace, all sorts of other rather fanciful architecture, and a Moorish fortress looming over the skyline of the village. It really is quite a breathtaking place. It also has a rainforest microclimate, so all sorts of interesting flora are about. We walked through one of the parks to get to the Moorish castle, and it's a very verdant area, particularly on the lower parts of the mountain.

The Moorish castle dates from the 800s or so. It's built around the crown of a group of hills overlooking Sintra. The castle and town were where the Moorish governor lived. When the Moors were driven out in the 1200s, the King of Portugal took over the Moorish palace as his own royal residence, and it remained such until the 1910 revolution. We toured the palace and the castle, and although it is full of nice furnishing and the like, I think I'd still prefer 2101 Bucknell Ter.

After leaving Sintra, we took lots of back roads (we're talking Idaho, here) to Torres Verdes, and finally got on the freeway headed toward Óbidos, although it was touch and go there for a while. Let's just say that all the maps and signs are in Portuguese.... We got totally lost in Torres Verdes, and stopped at a gas station. I spoke to the guy in halting Portuguese, and he responded in voluble Portuguese, but it was all right, because I really did understand him! He drew us a map, and got us on our way. The Portuguese have been very friendly to us, and they really do appreciate you trying to engage them in their language.

We spent all of Sunday walking around Óbidos. It's a beautiful walled town that's been around since the 800s. (Romans, Visigoths, Moors, and Christians - quite a kaleidoscope.) The town is whitewashed with lots of the traditional Portuguese blue tiles. They are very beautiful, and are still made (for the Portuguese, and for the tourists). As I mentioned in my earlier letter, Óbidos is a tourist trap, but a very friendly one, and we enjoyed going into the different shops. Later in the day, we had a nice dinner inside the village. We have eaten well ever since we arrived. The wines are fantastic, and yesterday Grace discovered a cherry-chocolate liqueur that is made locally, and can be drunk (happily) locally, too.

Today we had the adventure at the beach. Grace is bringing home some genuine Portuguese Rocks. They may actually end up in your Christmas stockings. We enjoyed the company of the two German hitchhikers. One of the them said that they had waited for the bus for 30 minutes, before we picked them up. I was so grateful that the bus didn't come! We had a snack in the town we took them to (Baleal), then headed back here so that we could circumlocute the city wall here.

And that's about it for today.

Earlier that day...

We're still in Portugal. We've been in Obidos for a couple of nights. The Internet access here isn't, so I'm sending this from my Blackberry.

Obidos is a picture-perfect turistico trap, and we have truly been enjoying that. It is a very pretty town, complete with wall and castle. We're staying in a very nice hotel with an appropriate soupcon of quaintness.

Today we went to the beach at Peniche, and checked out a couple of other tiny beach towns. We also picked up a couple of German hitchhikers and took them to the village in which they were staying. Very nice guys on holiday.

Hope you are all well. I'll write more soon. Lyn, I hope your 40th was really grand, and I really appreciate that you let me steal your Mom. I guess I owe you big time.

Love, Grace and JB

Party Hardy in West Virginia

The Homolands of Hardy County

I mean to say "Party hearty in Hardy County West Virginia." Half of the Finance Guys and his husband and the girl upstairs decided to have a Cinco de Mayo and Schlüggënhäüsën party, or something like that, at their country estate in the West Virginia homolands in Hardy County. An incredible number of gay men (and lesbians) with gun racks live in the neighborhood. The woods are full of them! And they all like to decorate. The headquarters of the Gay American Yuppie Supremacists (GAYS) Movement is located exactly 3.4 miles from this spot (check your odometer, do not use your GPS) on SR 259. This is an exceedingly scary neighborhood, especially for straight-talking FBI agents.

Not a Bear Den

Here's an example of a well-appointed post-information economy home. It has Internet service, but no cell phone service! You can tell it's a gay household because of all the subtle earth-hued colors. These colors are no longer confined to the large lesbian community in Takoma Park, Maryland. Gay decorators have magnified this trend, and it is especially evident in the hollows of West Virginia occupied by post-urban weekend dandies. In fact, the Gay Supremacists are everywhere. Their homes blend in so well with the countryside flora, that it's difficult to tell what is a gay home, and what is a bear den. Sometimes, they are one and the same.

Negotiations Going Badly

All gay households have a dog (or a cat, or neither). This little dog is a schnaudle, not a poozer. He's a fierce little chappie. The Rhodesian Ridgeback wanted to be friendly with Mr. Schnaudle, but the affair ended quickly and badly. Mr. S has a territorial Napoleonic complex. Mr. Ridgeback, being a perfect guest, retreated. This is the first time that I've seen a Rhodesian Ridgeback. The dog, Ariel, is beautiful and friendly with a long sloppy tongue. The scrappy chappie is Winston. Winston likes to be cuddled, petted, and cooed over when he isn't protecting his patio from roving Ridgebacks.

Marie Claire, Carlos, and Joe know how to throw a party. It was complete with taquitos and piñatas, befitting a Cinco de Mayo theme. I never quite figured out what the Schnuggen Huggen was all about, but I'm retired, so I don't need to think anymore.

Cinco de Mayo Hosts: Marie Claire, Joey, and Carlos

These are the three main minds behind the GAYS Movement. They cleverly disguise their social agenda as a "Cinco de Mayo/Schnuggen Nuggen Party," but it's more than that. Look at the glee in their faces, the earnestness in their foreheads, and the intelligence writ upon their brows. This is fierce competition in the marketplace of ideas, indeed. From left to right, Marie Claire, Joey, and Carlos.

Happy Affirming His Sexual Identity Politics

So what did I learn from this social experiment in West Virginia? I learned how to stuff a piñata. I have dexterity that I never even knew about. It is a truism, that every day of retirement is a learning experience, full of opportunity for those willing to grasp it. Did you know that you stuff a bull piñata through his hind end? This is SO gay! This simple act affirmed my identity politics (every act is political) while I accomplished a social good. Gay parties really do enrich the cultural fabric of rural West Virginia. I don't think this is a matter to be taken lightly, either. Hardy County would be culturally, economically, and politically impoverished in some small, but not insignificant way, had I not taken the longer road, and driven in a "green" hybrid car along the back roads to this ultimately welcoming (after all, I did get lost a couple of times getting there) social enclave of other (so-called) dissolute people (not that there's anything wrong with that) like myself (hey, I hang out with people like me!) and stuck my finger up the rear of a bull piñata purchased at Target. The arrow has come full circle!

So hats off to you three, Marie Claire, Joe, and Carlos. Ron and I thoroughly enjoyed the party, as I'm sure the other guests did. We had a swell time!

Revealing Photos of a Wild Square Dance Weekend

No, you won't see any square dance photos here. That would be too twisted. I can't reveal any of the weird and secret rituals that go on at a gay square dance weekend....

However, I do have some photos of a wonderful Sunday on the way home from Rehoboth Beach, including a visit to the Adkins Arboretum.

Boardwalk Plaza Hotel

We had a fagulous hotel room at the Boardwalk Plaza. I'm sure our room was decorated by a Victorian gay interior decorator (duh!). Over the top and just right for a gay weekend in a former Methodist camp meeting town. Next time you are in Rehoboth, check out this wonderful pile of bricks. The place is sooo gay, complete with a 24/7 hot tub on the roof, and the staff is gracious and helpful. There are also two security cameras near the hot tub, so keep you clothes on. Tim and I spent a couple of relaxing hours in the hot tub reviewing Basic Challenge square dance calls while watching the fog roll in. Be sure to bring your swim suit for this warm and embracing experience.

Sunrise over Rehoboth Beach

Tim before coffee

The Sunday morning started very early for Tim. He was missing sunrise on the beach. With my tender pleading, I got him to the dance hall, and we proceeded to dance a couple of hours before heading back to the hotel to check out and get out on the beach.

Tim dancing on the beach

The fly-in was a total success. My Challenge buddies, Mein and Michael danced Challenge on Friday evening, then Michael had a back problem that persisted through Sunday - a real bummer. This is the first time that I was dancing full-level Challenge 1, and it caused my head to explode several times. Mein, on the other hand, looked calm and collected through the whole weekend.

Okay, so after dancing, Tim and I got out on the beach for a nice long walk up and down the beach, then down the boardwalk. Here Tim is performing a jig. That's what square dancing will do for you - rejuvenate you and get you to small beach towns in less-settled parts of the North American continent. Woo-hoo!

Happy's in Georgetown...

We blew Dodge shortly after 1 p.m. and happened into Georgetown a mere 45 minutes or so later. Here's Marilyn having a photo op in the town square. My butt got wet because the sprinkler had just turned off. A wet butt is a small price to pay for a glamour shot. Tim took this with his iPhone, and what a beautiful picture it turned out to be! I really feel sexy and hot.

I like these trips with Tim. We talk about all sorts of things. Foremost the conversation is about square dancing, which, since it is theological, has theoretically an infinite (blessed be) number of topics about which to talk. For instance, I was wondering out loud how far out to sea I could see from our balcony at the hotel. Tim, ever the applied mathematician, recited the Pythagorean theorem and plugged in Pi and a couple of square roots to come up with some answer that probably puzzled the room maid. I wrote it all down on a scrap of paper, but I've misplaced it. I'll leave the proof to the reader. Good stuff. It's minds like this that change the way America thinks. I love this kind of exploratory banter.

Adkins Arboretum

So we finally crossed Delaware and headed into verdant Maryland, my Maryland (our state song - and Maryland never even seceded the Union). If you ever get a chance, get off of Route 50 and drive a couple of miles to the Adkins Aroboretum. It's a real treat, and it's beautiful at this time of year. See it going to the beach or coming from the beach, but stop and take it in.

North American Bullfrog

This place is good for an hour or good for a day. You take your pick! Here's my favorite bullfrog. We could really hear them. While on a little foot bridge crossing a marshy creek, I saw several of them. You can't eat them, though! Just beyond the foot bridge is the visitor's center. It's chock full of brochures, maps, (and restrooms) - it costs $3, a bargain for an adventure.

Part of a paw-paw patch

This is a paw paw blossom. These fruit trees are native to Maryland, but you don't see many of them. The arboretum is a showcase of native species (including lots of poison ivy - the ivy is such a beautiful plant, but behaves like a bad date from hell; beware). Along the path, some pieces of artwork had been installed. The art blends in with the environment in an natural way. In the not too distant future, it won't be art; it will be part of the forest detritus. I like this kind of naturalistic expression. Our walk was very pleasant, and we did not run into many people at all. Just a short distance from the beach traffic is this little sylvan paradise, waiting to be discovered and enjoyed.

Art in the woods

We stayed at the arboretum for an hour or so. I hadn't seen a lady slipper for over forty years, and right along the path, one beckoned me to take its picture. Not to be outdone, a mourning cloak butterfly insisted that I capture is full dignity in a sunlit moment. This little gift from the State of Maryland is precious for all of us who pass by here.

Lady Slipper orchid

Mourning Cloak Butterfly

We Didn't Get Hit by a Drunk Driver

Why I'd rather go to a gay New Year's Eve Party...

The New Year's Eve party was quite festive. The hosts go over the top decorating for Christmas (one is a window designer at a department store, and knows how to out-Stewart Martha). Lots of goodies were in abundance. This isn't a party where you need to go home hungry.

Brian picked up Charlie. The two of them got acquainted during a hygienic maneuver in Charlie's bathroom. From Charlie's house, the two came and picked us up, then off to Langley Park/Silver Spring to whisk away Kelly to a delightful night in Arlington.

We got to the party around 10:15. Fewer guys attended this year, but I think the quality was up. The hosts have a very efficient operation, drop the food off in the kitchen, then undress in the bedroom. Some guys actually do look better with their clothes off.

This party is the only social event of the year where I see a lot of the guys, so I had to make the rounds and say hello. Not a lot of attitude here, and the occasional grope was welcome. My tattoo is always a big hit.

In past years, the making out and sexual play usually didn't begin until 11:45 or so. This year, the play-by-play action started around 10:30. I let three different guys tackle me in the bedroom. I'm that much of a tight end! A couple of the guys were studly hot, but very very charitable. In the past, the scoring usually ended around 12:15. This year, at least one run into the end zone was in play when we left at 2.

Charlie has a reputation with many of the guys, even though this was the first time that he had attended this particular party. He has organized some of the nudist activities in the area, and the guys know him for his infamous poker games. He's a very funny, happy guy, and not the least bit shy. I'm really glad he came with us. Brian and Kelly were also big hits, as well they should be. Kelly got tackled during the fourth quarter.

Ron stuck with civilized conversation and sampling the New Year's spread in the dining room. His eyes may have roved, but nothing else did, he reported. I guess he was looking for great food and conversation, and I was just looking for meaningless sex.

I enjoy this party and love the hosts. Whether you played, watched, or ate canapes, it was a fabulously gay evening.

Looking Back

I suppose it's obligatory to look back over the year and say something grand. 2007 had it's surprises, like I'm not at work today. It's been a pretty good year, though. I don't have many complaints.

I suppose the biggest story in our household is that both of us retired, but close to that was a sailing trip in St. Vincent and the Grenadines and an International Association of Gay Square Dance Clubs convention in Denver. On the same trip, Tim, Grace, and I stayed at the Carr Manor in Cripple Creek. It's one of the best B&Bs I've stayed in, and you're 10,000 feet in the air (welcome to the Mile High Club, more comfortable than the toilet on a jetliner).

Other things: I finally joined a gym, and we'll see if I can keep to it. I'm tired of feeling like the Michelin Man. Ron got me over to Balleys, and I'm trying to get my money's worth. Ron's been working out forever. He's cute, happy, unassuming, and dramatically handsome. He attributes it all to his gym workouts. I'm hoping for the same results over the next 40 years.

Tonight, we're going to a New Years Eve party in Arlington. With any luck, we won't be slaughtered by a drunk driver on the Interstate. We've gone to this particular celebration for several years. It's a naked party of several dozen gay men. It's always full of good cheer, and lots of fun.

Swell Holidays!

I had a very happy Christmas holiday, celebrating with my boyz: Ron, Tim, Perry, and Brian. We got together on Christmas Eve at Tim's and started off with wine, cheese, and pate. We then migrated over to Greystone Grill for a very nice dinner. Brian joined us at the restaurant. Their bartender makes a decent sidecar.

After dinner we moseyed back to Tim's for some fruitcake, and an excellent dessert wine, all mixed in with some wonderful conversation, and Brian telling us about getting all tied up with a former work colleague just before Christmas. We then shared some frank appraisals about Craigs List.

Christmas Day I cooked Donald Duck! I had lots of fun working with Donald. I used Julia Child's recipe, Designer Duck, p. 178, The Way to Cook, Julia Child, Alfred A. Knopf, New York, 1989.

Basically, you half-roast the duck in a hot oven for a half hour. Skin the bird (reserving the skin), remove the breast meat and slice each breast into a half-dozen medallions, remove the wings, legs, and thighs.

You coat the wings, legs, and thighs with dijon mustard, then bread with dried crumbs, and bake in a hot oven until they are roasted.

You finish off the medallions, by placing them in a skillet, seasoning them, adding a chopped scallion, and a little broth and port and poaching just until the meat is pink.

Finally, you slice the skin into quarter-inch strips and bake in a hot oven until the skin is brown and the fat is rendered out.

I arranged the medallions on greens, added a leg or a thigh to the plate, then sprinkled with the duck skin cracklings. It was a lip-smacking experience. Ron made a red rice pilaf that really paired well with the duck, and we also had some cranberry relish. Perry joined us for Donald's last dinner.

After dinner, I phoned with my sister and my twin brother. Later Ron and I watched Lorenzo's Oil, a sad, but very interesting medical mystery. I ended the day talking with my older brother, and reminiscing about my father's sermons among other thing.

I love this holiday for the connections, the heart, the flavors and smells, the lightness of step, the reflection, and the family that is mine.

What Gay Men Do on Sunday Mornings

We go to the Silver Diner, and we shop at Whole Foods. Yep, the boys were on the prowl on Rockville Pike. We are such a merry crew. I wore my Santa hat, figuring it fitted the occasion. It's a very grey day out with thick fog in Wheaton. But we went out anyway. Ron tried a new item at the Diner: peanut butter and banana stuffed French toast. The concept was great, but it had too much peanut butter. Perry and I stuck to our usual pork products.

The scene at Whole Foods was a little desperate. People clogged the aisles looking for that special something that will turn Christmas dinner into something memorable. I did my desperate shopping on Friday, so I could inwardly gloat at the discomfort of others today.

I finally hung Kat's watercolor of the Palouse Hills in the living room. It is a beautiful picture. The wall behind and around it really needs repainting. I guess that's another retirement project. This time, I measured very carefully before hanging the picture, and I think I did a pretty good job of it. Ron usually complains (with justification) about how badly I hang pictures, but he hasn't seen it yet. On the other hand, the picture always looks better on the wall than sitting on the floor looking very lonely.

Kat's Watercolor

Kat's one of my sisters. She's an artist who lives in Moscow, Idaho. I really enjoy her work. This watercolor captures just about everything I love about the Palouse Hills.

Donald, Duck!

So today, I went out a bought a dead duck. I've named the duck Donald, and I sure hope he (she?) isn't tough. I know he's dead, because he's frozen. I am always amazed how far removed a duck is from the farm when it's wrapped in plastic, and available in the freezer section of the super market. Donald is now sitting in the refrigerator, thawing out.

I haven't cooked a duck in 39 years. I'm looking forward to the adventure. The instructions on the packaging are straightforward, but I'm going to consult Julia and Craig before doing too much. I thought about Figgy Pudding, but I'm going to put that off to 2008.