Pen and Ink

Busy week ahead.

This is going to be a great -- but busy -- week.

Around midnight tonight my friend Bernardo will be arriving. For those of you who've been reading this blog for awhile, you might recall that B moved to Panama a couple of months ago. He's back for a week-long visit, and I'm very excited to have him stay with me.

There's lots of things going on this week, some of which I cannot write about just yet. But B and I will keep busy. A tour of a new photography exhibition at the Miami Art Museum, the opening night party of Festival of the Trees -- an exhibition of Christmas trees designed by architectural and design firms. That's followed by drinks and dinner on Lincoln Road in South Beach with Gene, and a little Christmas tree decorating dinner party I'm having on Friday. 

Phew! 

In addition to all of that, my dining room furniture arrives Friday, just in time for the party. And hopefully B and I will get to the beach one day. If it warms up a little bit.

More will be written as the week goes on, but for now, I must go vacuum the house quickly, do some laundry, and find chocolates for B's pillow.

Sitting down.

Yes, 'tis me. I'm back.

Well, sorta.

Life's been crazy busy the last couple of weeks. For reasons that I won't go into right now, my laptop has been plugged into my kitchen counter. Standing and writing do not go hand-in-hand.

But just now I've finished setting up my new desk. This was the final piece I needed in order to get my house together since my ex-partner moved out.

So now I can sit and write. Much more comfortable, I'm sure you will agree.

Right now, rather than writing more, I'm going to meander around the corner to the new pizza place and get me some dinner. Then I'm going to pick up the piles of papers, bills, etc., that are strewn about my kitchen and family room, and organize them all in my study.

Some real posts -- and catching up on all of the blogs I love to read -- will happen this week. There's lots to say about a whole bunch of things.

Hope everyone (of my U.S. readers) had a good Thanksgiving.

A purchase or an investment?

Last night a colleague asked me what I had done on my Saturday. I told him that I had had a very exciting day, punctuated with the purchase of a new vacuum cleaner.

What kind did you get?
A Dyson.
That's not a purchase, that's an investment!

I'll say.

Truth be told, at 44 years of age, I've never bought a vacuum cleaner. Mike, my ex, did the buying. We've owned two -- both Kenmore canister-type machines.

I decided that this time 'round, I didn't want that style. First, I can't stand Sears stores and really didn't want to go in one. Second, I often have back pain, and those kinds of vacuums require a lot of non-upright positioning of the body. Third, they have wheels and often bump into walls,doorjams, and ankles.  Generally mine.

Going into Best Buy, I had it in my mind to at least look at the Dysons. The design museum for which I used to work had James Dyson speak a number of years ago. They donated four vacuums to us, one of which we used in the galleries; the other three ended up in a silent auction two years ago. Those suckers were the first things to sell (and brought us a lot of money).

So I stood there considering the Dysons. I narrowed it down to one particular model, if I were to go that route. Then I started looking at all of the brands and styles. Confusing. A saleskid came over and asked if he could assist, and I asked him to explain the differences among the models. Why should I spend so much more for a Dyson.

He did a good, objective analysis of the situation. The bottom line is that the Dyson seems to be a lot better, technologically, than the others.

So out the store I went with my new Dyson DC07. I connected it all and took it for a spin around the my bedroom. I was impressed. The thing with Dysons is that you can see the stuff sucked up and into the canister. One pass around the bedroom took up a lot of lint.

I think I made the right choice.

Side note: how pathetic is it that all I am writing about is my vacuum cleaner? Calgon, take me away!

Peace and quiet.

How often do any of us get -- or take -- the time to just sit quietly and read a book?

I had that delicous opportunity to do that just today. My friend Cary was scheduled for oral surgery under anesthesia today. Since his partner is out of town on business, he asked if I would take him and bring him back, as he would be unable to drive.

Sure, of course, absolutely.

I had every intention of going to my office once I dropped Cary home at about 10:30. However, as the doctor was going through the post-op procedures with me (Cary was in la-la land from the anesthesia and the Halcyon he had taken), he strongly said that someone really needed to stay with Cary for awhile just to make sure he was alright.

OK, sure, I'll take the day off.

We got back to Cary's place, which, to create the setting for the rest of this tale, is on the 28th floor of a fab condo building right on Miami Beach. As in overlooking the Atlantic ocean. He immediately crawled into bed and was out for hours. Thankfully, I had shorts and a t-shirt from the previous evening, so I changed and took my book out onto the balcony.

And read. And read. And read some more.

They say that we need to make time to smell the roses. Actually doing that once in awhile reminds me of why we're supposed to do it.

Bon voyage, T.

The mood for today is melancholy.

(I just love that word, don't you?)

You see, my friend Tamara, whom I've written about previously and who even has a guest posting on this blog, is leaving South Florida and heading for North Carolina.  She's taken a job at a presigious university up there.

For many reasons, I'm sad to see her go. She's a fun person in my life. She's a voice of sanity at work.

I'll miss her, and wish her well has she stalks the medical school of said prestigious university, on the prowl for her very own McDreamy.

All the best my dear!

R-O-C-K in the U-S-A.

Yesterday's emotional low-point (read previous post) was brought up quite a few notches as the night wore on. Particarly around 10 p.m. when I started watching election returns.

Reasons to be happy:

1. The Democrats took back the House. Good. Adios Dennis, and hello Nancy.

2. Massachusetts, after sixteen long years of Republicans in the governor's office, gave it back to a Democrat, the rightful occupant.

3. With the election of Duval Patrick, Massachusetts has its first African-American governor.

4. Rick Santorum is history.

5. Hillary rocks.

6. The New York governor's office is back in the hands of a Democrat.

7. The Democrats took back the House. Oh wait, I said that already.

8. Arizona showed that it has smart residents. They voted down an amendment to the state constitution declaring marriage to only be between a man and a woman. Signs of intelligent life in the universe.

9. Donald Rumsfeld resigned. Better late than never.

10. And finally, the Democrats now have the Senate back.

The icing on the cake would be if George W. spent the next two years sitting quietly in the corner with his tail between his legs, and Karl Rove were shipped off to some undisclosed location. For good.

But hey, Mom always taught me not to be greedy.

What's done, is done.

The piles of boxes in almost every room are gone. The bubble wrap and the pile of newspapers for packing is nearly gone.

Most of the rooms echo in their emptiness. Some are dark because there are no lamps. Rogue dust-bunnies rule the master bedroom.

Piles of dishes, pots, candle sticks, towels...stuff...are scattered throughout the house after 18 years of accumulated things were divided.

And as I write this, my eyes are welling with tears. Again.

Mike, my ex-partner, moved out today.

For those of you who might be new to this blog, here's the short version. Mike and I were together for 17 years. A year and a half ago, I made the decision to end the relationship. Or, more accurately, to change the nature of our relationship. The "split" has been harmonious. We've lived together this entire time for a variety of reasons. The division of our things has been without argument, and we continue to be friends. Always will, I suspect.

But today, the reality of what I've done set in.

I spent all last evening helping him pack. This morning, as I left for work, we shared a hug and I was near tears. He was all business, but I know that he's got a lot on his mind as he moves to the next county and prepares to start a new job next Monday.

This isn't what he wanted. But it's what I needed. I grapple with feelings of guilt, which I know I should not have. The empty house that I came home to tonight was the punctuation mark on a long sentence that's been written for the past 18 months. The emptiness hit me and consumed me as I broke down and cried.

I know that all will be well with both of us -- as individuals and as friends. I've thought a fair amount over the years about relationships, both plutonic and romantic. Society sets for rules and guidelines, but I believe that too many people accept the "norm."

Mike and I will figure out what's next for our relationship with each other. I can't imagine him not being in my life.

That's what gives me some comfort right now.

RCA

Note: this post is a musing within a rant. Or is that a rant within a musing?

I received an email from my friend Martin yesterday.

Truly my oldest friend (not biologically), Martin scares me. Not because he's evil or anything, but because of the stuff he remembers. This can be dangerous as he's known me since we were teenagers. He knows stuff. And we have "adult" friends in common. That's the scary part.

Beyond that, though, he amuses me when he tosses out memories of things long in the past. People we knew in high school, experiences we had. Or like in yesterday's email, acronyms that probably only he and I remember.

That brings me back to yesterday's email and to my rant within a musing.

Remember RCA?

Well, I do now. It came from some high school church youth group retreat we were on. For those purposes, RCA wasn't the radio/music company. It stood for Rotten Christian Attitude.

Now here comes the rant.

Following that question, he brought up Ted Haggard, the latest holier-than-thou-right-winger to get his hands caught in the cookie jar. Or rather, the drugs and male prostitute jar.

Martin said that he's been giggling for the past couple days over Mr. Haggard's plight, although he knows he should be sympathetic.

Sympathetic, my ass. Here's another so-called man of the cloth of one of the mega-churches who allegedly hired an gay escort and bought some crystal meth. He denied it initially. Then he came forth and said, well, yes, I did hire the guy to give me a massage (yeah, right) and yes, I did buy some meth, but no, no, no, I never used it. I threw it away.

How, how delicious.

Who on Earth, unless they are blinded by religion, believes this crap? Certainly not his wife, I hope. With luck, she's already found herself a great lawyer.

It's yet one more example, during this election season when the religious nutcases are in full plume, of Rotten Christian Attitude.

Will people ever wake up and open their eyes?