Homer'sWorld

Buddy and Orry and I went to the Presidio Park as I gave them a whirlwind tour of Tucson history.



















Buddy, Orry, and Homer.

They got to see my messy house, I have been slow at getting the kitchen done. I spent some time going through my closets to find my Holiday stuff. I found the big lights and strung them up on the porch.




















Pretty lights.

Twisted my ankle at the gym this morning. Ouch! I am hobbling around and feeling sorry for myself.

Thanksgiving 2008 was very relaxing and fun, except I ate too much and my stomach ached for a while. I made a white cake with cranberry-cherry filling and white chocolate buttercream frosting. The cake part was a bit dry, but it was still very good. I also made Angry Black Bitch's Corn Casserole. Yum!



















The Cake.

While the cake was cooling I went to the gym and did 45 minutes on the elliptical machine. I was a ball of sweat afterwards. I think I am having my midlife crisis, which involves losing weight and getting fit. Less expensive than hair transplants and a sports car.

Afterwards Sandy and I journeyed through the rain (we are getting the remnants of a hurricane) to Steve's house and ate too much.




















Sandy and Steve and the Roast Tofurkey.

Sandy's cranberry sauce, with Indian seasonings, was my favorite.

We watched some telly and played games and Brian came over and we played more games and watched more telly and when I got home I climbed into bed with the cats and was thankful for them and my friends and lots of other stuff.

Look at the camera Joey! She does not take photo direction very well, basically because she is looking at that delicious blade of grass that she really, really wants to eat- fully knowing that she'll barf it up in a little while.


























Homer and Joey.

So ready for my fridge to be fixed. I feel so 19th century at the moment (I should build an ice house in the backyard!). I wonder if the repairperson will be a handsome redhead who will propose marriage and we will fly a budget airline to Connecticut and get hitched and then I will live a life free of appliance worry! Ummm, not likely to happen, but one can always hope.

Puzzling over what to make for Thanksgiving meal. Sandy, Steve, and Brian and I are going masticate together. That should be fun, perhaps we will play games afterwards. Thanksgiving is my least favorite holiday (turkey! gravy! stuffing inside turkey!), but this year I am looking forward to it since I'll be hanging out with my friends.

We are having Indian food for the Amazing Race viewing tonight. I made a parsnip-onion-carrot-potato curry using Madras Curry Paste. I went to the Indian food store and wandered around, so many unusual things. I asked the clerk if he knew of any Indian cooking classes here in Tucson and he told me no, but that there were a lot of videos on Youtube, and he was right.





















Curry.

I am going to make Saag paneer first, once my fridge gets fixed.

Sandy and Puff.

Sandy came by for a visit and Mama Cat enjoyed the attention the most.

So I vacuumed under the fridge in preparation for painting the kitchen (trying to get all the cat hair so it wouldn't stick in the paint). And afterwards there was this funny smell and finally I went and got Sandy and asked him if he could smell it. He described it as an electrical burning smell. My sense of smell isn't so great.

So a little while later smoke started coming out of back side of the fridge so I pulled the plug. I called the fix-it number for Sears, spoke to "Jerry" in India, and the repair man will be coming Wednesday morning. He better be hot. Sandy is babysitting foodstuffs and I feel Amish, except my Amish brother has a gasoline-powered fridge that he gets to use because his Amish group is a little more progressive about some things, preferring to live in 1920 instead of 1850.

What dessert did your family have at Thanksgiving?

We always had store bought pumpkin and apple or cherry pies with Cool Whip. The Sarah Lee pie factory, where my brother-in-law has worked since 1977, was in Traverse City and so all of the pies were local.

I went to the barbershop for the third time in four years today. It was either that or buzz everything off. But Paul owns his shop and I thought I would patronize it. He did a good job and his Mom Pam insisted on covering my hands with various lotions and smelling things. I had forgotten what a nice woman she is.
























After the gym.

So the aerobic stuff and the diet will be alright, but it has been a long time since I lifted weights and I feel totally inadequate in terms of posture and how much and how many and the right loud grunts and squirrelly faces to make, so I may have to hire a trainer when that consulting check comes in so I can do things right. As I told Forrest, no one wants to date in this town, so might as well waste the time at the gym doing something productive rather than sitting at home alone with the cats eating bonbons and Girl Scout cookies.

At the gym I spent 45 minutes on the eliptical machine, trying not to look at the clock, just trudging on and on. The machine claimed I had burned 560 calories when I was done but I am skeptical.

The scale says I weigh 215 or so pounds and according to the BMI thingy on the intertubes, I should weigh 195. Who knows what to believe, I just know that I'm out of shape and I'm not getting any younger or prettier, so I'm back to the gym and watching what I eat. That's supposed to work and tomorrow I will be skinny again and I can wear that one shirt that I have been wanting to wear for a while but is a bit too tight across the shoulders.

Today was International Melancholy Day, at least that's what I was busy celebrating, for various reasons.

Can you smell the double chocolate brownies? I just took them out of the oven. They were more successful than the egg noodles that I made with the pasta attachment on my KitchenAid. I've got to figure out how to keep those egg noodles from sticking together when they come out of the extruder.

So now that we've had our Big National Day O' Protest, what's next?

























Puff hates the papparrazzi.

For those who live in Arizona and are interested in whether your neighbors gave to the "Yes on 102" campaign, this lovely file [now with corrected link!] (a legal document that is posted by the State of Arizona!) lists Bigoted-American contributions for part of the election cycle. Among the 15 people in my zipcode are Chad and Wendi Lee Anderson, one of whom is an Electrical Engineer for Raytheon Missile Systems here in Tucson. They gave $5,000 dollars! Cash! They are much, much more concerned about who I might marry than I am about their marriage.

Fuck, I wish I had that kind of money just sitting around. But I would rather flush it down the toilet than waste it like these people did. According to the Interwebs, Chad is in his late-50s. That is probably young enough for him to see Homo Marriage legalized in Arizona, since no civil rights movement has EVER BEEN DENIED! LOL! I certainly hope that event doesn't destroy his marriage. 'Cause that would suck! Since I am pretty sure that once homo marriage is legal every single Bigoted-American marriage will end in divorce as all of those guys discover the delights of man-on-man (and sometimes another man) butt-sex and the gals, as they are being all Lebanese or Lesbionic or whatever, shout out, "So that's what an orgasm feels like!!! And I wasted all of those years being a Bigoted-American!" Of course, gay friendly straight couples will not have this problem at all!


Changing the subject from such sour, negative topics, my 9th Annual Holiday Party is December 14th. This year: Cookie Decorating, Card Making, and Pipe Cleaner Ornaments. I'm going to ask guests to bring a toy to give to a child. I'm hoping to have my kitchen re-painted before that non-denominational event.

Two protests in two days. Tucson held its protest last night to coincide with the unveiling of a new ad campaign highlighting gay families.




















The crowd in Tucson.

Unfortunately, downtown Tucson is sooooo dead at 5 PM and we marched from one enclosed, invisible space across a bridge with high walls to another enclosed, invisible place. I'm guessing 400 or 500 people attended. I was especially pleased to see a straight co-worker (Hi Stacy!) there with her young son. She doesn't know how much I appreciate her support.




















Lyle, Sandy, David G., and Chris.

While we waited next to the Pima County Courthouse we could hear them calling out numbers, "43!," as a Justice of the Peace married straight couples. "44!" It was ironic that they had an assembly line of marriages that those of us gathered nearby cannot experience because 56 percent of Arizona voters are bigots. "53!" A few couples and their families wandered out and were a bit astounded at the sight of so many gays and lesbians and straight friends holding signs.


























Elliot is no longer being nice!

I called Brian last night and alerted him that I was thinking of coming up to Phoenix for their protest. He was excited when he called me this morning as I was driving north (gas is $2.19 a gallon now!) listening to the Avett Brothers on my Ipod (they are so excellent, I thank Chas for introducing them to me). I really wanted to stop at the ostrich farm, but no time for that.

























A beautiful sign held by a beautiful person.

A much larger crowd in Phoenix, gathered in front of the City Hall. I'm guessing perhaps 2,000 people of all ages, colors, straight and gay. Quite a few children. Speeches and music. People need to speak up and talk directly into the microphone, pretty please.

In front of the Phoenix City Hall.

I ran into Frank and former blogger Chris and then a very good friend, Gregg, that I haven't seen since 2003 or 2004. It was really nice to spend a moment or two with these people.

Gregg and Homer.

Afterwards we marched to the State Capitol and I wished I had brought along some water because darn if it wasn't very hot in Phoenix.
























Brian at the Arizona State Capitol.

Brian and I celebrated by eating pizza and french fries afterwards. On the drive back to Tucson I listened to the Avett Brothers and sang along, offkey, of course.

I read about Viola and Dolly a year ago. Two older women in Milbridge, Maine who are among the millions of poor Americans struggling to make ends meet. I listened to their voices and afterwards I sat down and wrote them cards and sent along some cash, hoping to brighten their lives a little.

Today I came across the blog entry that mentioned them. I checked the Social Security Death Index (I know, I know, just wanted to make sure they were still living), and made them another set of cards. I'll mail them off with some cash- I hope they enjoy the unexpected present.

It used to be illegal for a Chinese person to marry a Caucasian (including Mexican) person in Arizona. Marriage was also restricted for ‘Negroes," "Mongolians," "Malays,""Hindus," and Native Americans. These laws were first passed in 1865 and were periodically strengthened until 1956. The Arizona Supreme Court overturned the statute in 1962.





















Soy sauce jug with original clay stopper.

The first Chinese man, Hop Kee, came to Tucson in either 1873 or 1874. Over the next few years a trickle of other immigrants moved to the community- mostly men, a handful of women, and a few boys. They worked in several restaurants, serving American-style food to the many single Anglo and Mexican men moving to Tucson in search of economic opportunities. The local newspapers looked suspiciously at the Chinese, sometimes printing humorous stories about their attempts to speak English or commenting upon their lack of assimilation.





















Four Seasons pattern bowl, made by Chen.

The Southern Pacific Railroad was constructed through Tucson in early 1880, running eastward from Yuma on its way to El Paso. Over a thousand Chinese men leveled the ground, built the berm, and laid tracks for the railroad. Southern Pacific hired them because they were hard-working, dependable, and demanded less wages than Mexican or Anglo workers.

















Opium pipe made in Guangzhou by someone named Lim.


Once the railroad reached Tucson, about 400 men remained behind. They took up jobs in restaurants as cooks and waiters, opened stores, worked in the homes of the wealthy as private servants, grew produce that they sold door-to-door, or washed clothes along the irrigation canals west of town.










Broken bone opium pipe cleaner marked "JAPAN."

The influx of Chinese alarmed people throughout the United States, but particularly in western States. The Chinese men worked for less money and sent money back to China to their families instead of circulating it in local economies. They maintained their traditional culture- eating exotic, imported foods; smoking opium; wore Chinese clothing and hairstyles; participated in noisy, exhuberant celebrations at Chinese New Years or at funerals. Tensions between Mexican-Americans and the Chinese were particularly acute- both were at the bottom of the economic ladder, struggling to succeed. Violence was common between these groups, often taking place in the Chinese-owned general stores that the Mexican population relied upon for groceries, the Mexicans resenting the economic power they perceived the Chinese to have.
























Four glass medicine bottles made by the "Hall of Longevity" firm. These contained "nose smoking" medicines that were held up to the nose and sniffed.

Life was not easy for the Chinese immigrants who came to Tucson. They worked hard, mostly obeyed the laws, paid their taxes, a few became naturalized citizens and voted. And yet these men were constantly discriminated against.

Bean cake jar marked, in Chinese characters, "Greater San Francisco" and "Abundance [the factory name]."

By the 1920s, there were several small compounds in downtown Tucson where aging, single Chinese men lived. The last died in the 1950s or 1960s, any dreams they had had of having wives and families dashed by the miscegenation and immigration laws passed by the Federal and Arizona state governments.

Perhaps I am greedy, but I do not want to wait 97 years (the length of time between the start and end of miscegenation laws ) for gay marriage to be legalized.

Isn't it strange how history repeats itself?

The artifacts are from a Chinese laundry that operated in the early 1900s in downtown Tucson. I had the characters translated by a Chinese historian today.

So sorry to have hurt peoples' feelings.

Gerard says I am "sour, hateful" and "negative and hateful."

That about sums up things lately. Sure, I could write about flowers and cats and baking pies and the like. But we are living in a time of struggle between reason and irrationality. At the moment, irrationality has the upper hand on civil rights that affect me and my friends every day. As my co-worker said to me yesterday, "Hello second class citizen!"

So what am I supposed to do? I could do nothing. I could feign politeness ("Please sir, don't put up that awful sign!" Turn the other cheek when someone tells me homosexuality equals murder. Not be the least bit shocked that people in my community are giving money to anti-gay causes.

I guess I should just shut up and not say anything because I might project the image of an angry faggot.

Unfortunately, I am very angry right now. 56 percent of the voters in Arizona voted to place a constitutional amendment banning gay marriage into the Arizona Constitution. Why shouldn't I be angry at organized religion? The sign I pulled out that sits in my closet, waiting for me to take to the Historical Society, states that it was paid for by the Pete King Corporation (Mormon), Focus on the Family Action (Protestant), United Families International (apparently Christian), and the Center for Arizona Policy (Christian).

So why shouldn't I be sour and hateful towards religion? And why shouldn't I point out that people in my community are actively contributing money to these hateful campaigns? When you contribute money to a political cause you are required to provide your name, address, occupation, and employer. It is public record. If people don't want this information known, they should refrain from contributing or give to their church and let them spread the hate instead.

And if you read my blog because I am "hunky" but don't want to listen to my views on current events, religion, and politics- well sorry to tell you but I am a complex person who just happens to have opinions and right now I am expressing them.

The following residents of Tucson, Arizona contributed to the Yes on Proposition 8 campaign.

- Helen Moulton, a Christian homemaker, gave $35

- Paul Chamberlain, a Disabled Student Resource counseler at Pima Community College, gave $450

- Bruce Ekholt, a teacher at the Siatech Charter High School, gave $100

- Tyler Mott, a personal banker at Wells Fargo Bank, also gave $100

I wonder what their friends, co-workers, family, students, or clients would think if they knew these four people used their money to help take away the right to marry from their fellow tax-paying Americans? Well thanks to Google, they just may find out (my blog usually comes up very high in Google searches). I used Google to find a few extra facts about each person, so easy to do nowadays.

A database created by the San Francisco Chronicle lists donors for both sides of the Proposition. The database is not up-to-date. My $100 contribution for the No campaign isn't listed, neither is the money given by two of my friends. I wish someone would do a similar database for Arizona so I could find out who the haters were.

These four people gave a total of $685. I was pleased to see that they were outnumbered by the 34 Tucson residents who gave $6,285 to the No on Proposition 8 campaign.

Why not take a look and post the names of the people who Gave-To-Hate on your blog?

Some recent happenings.


- went to Lust in the Dust with Sandy. Tab Hunter was there and spent an hour on stage being interviewed about his film career. At age 77, he is very handsome! And seems like a nice guy, he literally didn't say a bad thing about anyone. It was nice to see Jim and his handsome bf Chris there.


- This morning I made waffles and hashbrowns and caramelized bananas for breakfast and invited Sandy over. I still feel bloated.


- I am a tad irritated by pacifist gays who say that the activist gays should be all nice and not offend the bigots. So sorry, I'm done being nice. Over it. They got their say, voted down equal rights in Arizona. Now it is my turn to expose them for the bottom feeding, blood sucking, scum that they are. If that means confronting them in person, I will do so (and have done so). I am not going to sit around while the Mormons, Catholic Church, Focus on the Family, and Cathy Herrod (rot in fucking hell bitch) dictate how I am supposed to live my life.



- Brian has posted his pictures from All Souls Day Procession. I made Brian a banana cream pie and it was delicious in every conceivable way.

All Soul's Day Procession, 2008.

Brian came down from Phoenix and Sandy came from the guest house and we made tombstones to carry in the Procession. Each one was about the loss of rights because of last week's election.




















Homer, Sandy, and Brian.

We stood along the route as the huge number of people went by. Many people took pictures of our signs and shouted words of encouragement. Towards the end we joined the procession and more people did the same. One old geezer told me he voted for the amendment. Well, I'm glad he was honest about it. For many people it was probably one of the few times they got to see a real live homo in person.

Brian and Sandy will have lots more pictures. It is truly an amazing event- this year the crowds were huge, the costumes elaborate, the altars decorated with pictures of the dead. I was very, very pleased by how many people who told me that gay rights were not dead, but merely waited to rise again. Zombie Gay Rights!!!

Magic panties. The more I think about the Mormon church funding the anti-gay marriage battles, the angrier I get. Did you know that another word for "Mormon" is "Hypocrite." The members of this church had to flee the eastern United States and found the state of Utah because of their polygamous marriage beliefs. Of course, later on, the leader of the church had one of those revelations and they denouced polygamy, although various offshoots of the church still marry grandpas to teenage girls quite regularly. Let's not forget the racist history of this church either. A magic revelation in the 1970s, taking place when the church had tapped out sources for white converts, magically allowed people with darker skins to be acceptable. Gee, thanks white elders!!!

Let's list some of the stupid beliefs the Moron Church has:

- golden tablets no one else saw but Joseph Smith.
- The resulting dull as fucking dirt Book of Mormon.
- Pretend Jesus wandering around Mesoamerica.
- Baptism of dead people.
- certain men get to become gods on their own planets.
- my favorite, Mormon underpants.

It is considered poor taste to talk about these rags, but since when did I have good taste? Look, here's a picture of the "style" the church allowed in the 1970s. You won't see such hot panties and bra sets in the Victoria Secret catalogue!

Mormon underpants.

Special symbols are supposed to protect people from harm. The most pious Mormons never fully remove their garments, they take sponge baths and fuck each other wearing them. Nice!!!

So yeah, my opinion of Mormons is pretty low right now and it isn't going to change until their leader has once of his timely revelations that being a faggot is dandy. Lord knows, I've met a lot of gay Mormons in my time. None of them were wearing their Mormon underpants because the church had kicked them out. That's family values for you!!!

Looky-loo, my hand appears on Cute With Chris!

I really want to thank people for helping out with the Bean Cake jar problem- I'll be writing more about that later next week.

Translation help? Anyone read Chinese?

Bean cake jar.

The drawing is of a glass jar from a early 20th century outhouse used by workers at a Chinese laundry here in Tucson. I'm trying to find someone to translate the Chinese characters for me.

My house feels cold tonight, the first time since Spring. I guess it is finally cooling off and pretty soon I'll have to pull out the space heaters.

Mummy is coming in January for two months. She wanted to stay in Michigan for Holiday so she could see my oldest nephew, who is 29 and off finishing a PhD at Virginia Tech. When Mummy gets here I'll probably go crazy cooking gluten free. That will be interesting.

I was going to say something nasty about the Mormons, but who cares. They wear magic underpants and can get married to dead peoples. Enough said.

So what should I make Forrest for his upcoming 30th birthday meal?

Well Obama won and I am happy with that. But whatever happiness I felt has been countered by the anti-gay marriage amendment passing here in Arizona and elsewhere. The Mormon and Catholic Churches funded the advertising campaigns here. I bet the Morons will be surprised when they discover that their attempt to buy some conservative Christian legitimacy fails, because the other Christian cults think the Mormons are nasty, make-believe Christians (but really, what's the difference?).

One aspect of the election being over is that suddenly I don't have to fret about it, obsessively checking political websites, and this frees up more time for other things, like studying variations in male human anatomy and baking lemon meringue pies.

"I will not have hate in my neighborhood," I told her. On the way to the supermarket to buy frozen spinach and a parsnip I saw two "Yes on 102" signs. On the way back I removed one, then went around the corner and removed the other. A Mexican-American woman in her 50s, dyed brown hair, elaborate make-up, driving a huge blue pickup truck unrolled her window.

"Why are you removing those signs?" she asked. I told her. She paused and said, "That's not hate." "Yes it is. I am a gay man. I know that discriminatory laws cause people to commit violence against gay people."

"That's not true, violence happens everywhere," she said. "Listen," I said, "I had a gay friend murdered. I will not have hate in my neighborhood."

She looked at me. "Murder is a sin. Just like homosexuality."

"You're a fucking cunt," I said and then I drove away. This is a shortened version of the conversation.

Yeah, not a nice thing to do. Being told that I am in the same class as murderers, well that set me off. I've never told someone they were a cunt. It is a plain nasty thing to do and something I do not plan on doing again. But you never know, I am so filled with hate toward people who want to deny me my rights, that I actually have brought hate to my neighborhood. Perhaps the "Yes on 102" people have won already, before the votes have been counted.

I am at work and I cannot concentrate. Yesterday I bought Bombay gin for gin and tonics (I had to ask Brian what kind of gin to get, I am very unenlightened about alcohol) and some tequila and mix for margaritas and Sandy, Forrest, and I are probably going to get completely, utterly drunk to celebrate Obama's victory.

However, the voters in Arizona are almost certainly going to approve Proposition 102, which will place a discriminatory amendment in the Arizona Constitution. I'm looking forward to being a second class citizen!!! So glad the Morons, oops I mean Mormons, are attempting to buddy up with the Born-Agains, although I'm pretty sure the B-Agains will still hate them just as much tomorrow as they do today, 'cause everyone knows the Mormons are a bizarre cult and the Born-Agains aren't. Burp.

I am hoping, hoping, hoping that Proposition 8 fails in California. If it does fail I'll at least feel that the $100 I gave them did not go to waste and that as California goes, the rest of the country will eventually go.

So I sit at my desk and "work" while feeling anxious and thankfully there are a couple of meetings to go to so I can escape from my computer and think about something else.

My nice grandmother died unexpectedly in January 1998. I got home from work and there was a message from my sister Susan asking me to call. Nobody was answering the phone at my sisters' or my mother's house- eventually I called my Aunt Janell and she was the one to tell me.

My grandmother's personality is hard to describe. She seemed unemotional to me, except she had a nervous breakdown after my grandfather died- all of her hair fell out. She was thrifty, and read a lot, and had a few values that we disagreed on. Once I was mean to her and told her that since she had never met a Communist she should just shut up about them. She always voted Republican and was her township treasurer for 30 years, always getting the most votes. She would be mortified to know that I have never voted Republican in a presidential election.

When I was in college she gave me $1000 when my student aid was cut and my father was trying to force me to drop out and return home to be a farmer, because that was what he wanted. My mother called me when he wasn't around and told me to ask grandma, and I did and a check was in the mail that day. She also gave me another $1000 so I could have braces and she was proud of my smile afterwards. When I was in graduate school she sent me another couple thousand so I could have emergency surgery (I didn't have insurance). These three instances helped me more than she would ever know- allowed me to attend school, gave me a better self image, and rescued me from a perilous situation. She did similar things for other family members.

In return I always came and stayed with her for several days, several times of the year. While I was there I waited on her and we did things she liked to do- walk through the grocery store, go to the Salvation Army looking for bargains (I still have the wool overcoat she bought me for $10, she loved that it was so inexpensive). I took her to the grocery store the last time I stayed with her and bought her a bottle of wine, because my uncle wouldn't let her have any. She got pretty drunk in front of me, and I was glad she enjoyed herself.

She's been gone for 10 years and I miss her and I still have her phone number memorized but it wouldn't do any good to call her and chat.

I wish I could have been steely enough to give Grandma F's eulogy at her funeral, because the preacher who gave it didn't know anything about her. I listened to Barack Obama talk briefly about his grandmother at a campaign event, and wished I was as eloquent as he was.

Aerial photography. Very early yesterday my co-worker Henry flew over in a helicopter above the site while I posed in pictures for scale. Aerial photographs are useful because they show the relationship of different features, in this case pithouses, to each other. Plus, they are interesting to look at. Click the pictures to make them bigger!


















I'm sitting in the center of some Early Ceramic period (A.D. 50-500) pithouses, with the earlier Early Agricultural period pithouse (the round one) nearby.

Although getting out at the site at 6:30 AM was a drag (I went to bed at 1 AM), I was actually able to finish some forms while I was waiting for the helicopter to show up. Then I did my best Vanna White Archaeologist impressions.


















I'm sitting in a Hohokam pithouse dating to about AD 1150-1300.

Forrest stood on the edge of the bathtub in the cat bathroom and took pictures as Caveman Sandy did a Redneck Zombie makeover on me.
























Looking up at Forrest.

Such an easy costume, merely shred some old clothes and apply lots of blood.




















Attacked by zombies at my cousin-sister's wedding reception at Taco Bell.

I survived a night of partying. I had to get up early this morning and stand next to pithouses as a helicopter flew over and took pictures (I was in them for scale). I hope the stains from the blood makeup are not visible.

Zombies for Obama!