Homer'sWorld

Baboquivari



Yesterday I traveled out to the Tohono O'odham Nation to attend a meeting at their new cultural center and museum. Behind the museum the jagged Baboquivari Peak, where I'itoi, the Elder Brother who brought the O'odham ancestors to this land and lives in a cave, was visible. Hawks, vultures, and crows were gliding about in the strong winds blowing yesterday. Nice way to spend a Monday.

44 cupcakes, one for each year.


Patrick's lemon and chocolate cupcakes.


44th birthday self-portrait.

Thank you Patrick, Brady, Jeffrey, Forrest, and Tina for making me feel special.

Today's adventure. Locking myself out of the house. And leaving my cell phone inside too. I checked all three doors. Yes, they were locked. I wondered about the small bathroom window, and was able to push it open the rest of the way. It is 10 inches wide and about 2 ft tall. I propped the stepladder up against the wall and was able to go through, feet first, on my second attempt. I felt like a total idiot.

I didn't watch President Clusterfuck's speechifying last night because there weren't enough buckets lying around to collect all the vomit that would have been flying around.

Instead I thought about my upcoming birthday (Sunday!, 44!) and wished I looked forward to that day like I did when I was a child.

Instead, I'm starting to realize that even the guys my age mostly want 20 or 30-somethings. Brian and I laugh at many of the personal ads we come across online (example: ONLY CONTACT ME IF YOU ARE DEAF!), but it is mildly depressing that so many 40-something men want to date other men young enough to be their son.

And so on. When I was a young son my Mama would give us $5 on our birthday so we could pick out our own present. That saved her from having to figure out what we wanted. I mostly got Breyer horses, which were the right size for GI Joe to ride around on. Later it switched to books about Pompeii. Britney Spears hadn't been invented yet, so I didn't have to worry about purchasing her latest CD, which also hadn't been invented yet.

This year, no plans for the 44th anniversary of me being cut out of my mother. Maybe someone will surprise me (hint:Brady).

Up early so I could drive over to the old fort and finish the mapping we are doing. The fort was established in 1873, abandoned by the military in 1891, and the recently acquired part was used as a tuberculosis sanitorium from about 1908 to the 1940s.


Kitchen ruins.

The city and county recently purchased the last portion of the fort in private hands, and I've been preparing a report on the history of this portion.

In the afternoon Forrest called and we went to La Indita for dinner.


Forrest at night.

Afterwards we wandered up and down 4th Avenue and looked at tied dyed t-shirts at the hippy store. At the thrift store the records were too pricey, I wish I had a record player.

We sat outside the bar and watched the ants try to drag too-big bugs into their tiny hole. They just never wanted to give up. Silly little ants.

Potatoes. It is starting to cool down here in Tucson and I can cook again. I made roasted baby potatoes the other day. I could eat potatoes all the time. I like them mashed with lots of butter. I love me some tater tots. French fries! Least favorite- boiled.

What is your favorite way of making potatoes?

This blog entry is paid for by the State of Idaho and the Toe Tapping Association of Boise.

Vince's carrot cake birthday cake came out very well. I just had a thin slice for breakfast.


Slicing the cake.

Yesterday I sneezed a couple of times and a co-worker asked if I was sick. Nope, I'm healthy as can be. Except I woke up with a sore throat that is getting sorer and now I'm getting a tad feverish. Tres annoying.

So I'm staying home, maybe I'll watch some stories on the telly. Usually when I get sick I clean house (two unpleasant things at once!). But the house is mostly clean so instead I'll probably lie in bed and play with the cats.

Today's interesting fact. Barack Obama is my seventh cousin. Our common ancestors begin with James Welborn and Mary Isabelle Teague.

Later. TJ asked me to look up his family. Turns out he is a distant cousin of an ex-bf of mine.

My best friend Les is coming to visit the weekend of October 19th. He'll be super pleased to know that it is Tucson Leather/Levi Weekend. Les, please remember to bring your leather codpiece and that spiked collar, you know, the one your mom gave you back in '89. The invitation also says there will be a "hanky Flagging Party" and that we are to "Ask a Tucson Leather Committee Member for a Hanky Code."

Buster the Balloon fetishist will also be there and maybe Les and I will get a little liquored up and participate in one of his ballon blowing-up contests. What happens in Tucson, stays in Tucson! Except they videotape it and sell it to other balloon porn fetishists. I'm pretty sure Les has never been in a porn movie, but there is that weekend back in 1992 that he doesn't remember.

It is, of course, a charity event. The $3.00 donation goes to a pet charity. This afternoon when I stopped by the Venture there were two cute dogs wandering around the patio, one of whom came over for some head-patting.

Don't forget your Hanky, Les!

I forgot the golden raisins for Vince's birthday cake. Carrot cake with cream cheese frosting. I've never made a carrot cake before, Brian was kind enough to find me a recipe since the Cake Bible didn't have the right one. I'll be sure to take a picture, but where's that food stylist bf? You know the one with the mad camera skills.

Otherwise a low key day, the highlight of which was a trip to the pet store to buy kitty litter. I know, I know. Life in Tucson is pretty superb.

Some fuckin' idiot wrote last week that gay blogging would be dead in a year. Yeah. Right. I had to laugh about that. Why is it that certain people get so melodramatic when they quit blogging? Just because they quit, I guess they want everyone else to quit too. So sorry.

I'll still be baking cakes, hanging out with my friends, and occasionally writing about by job in September 2008. I like being able to see what I was doing on this day in past years(in 2003, finding out that an ex had cheated on me while we were together! lol). And if people want to read about it, well, good for them. Maybe someday I'll quit, but I guess I'll have to find a good reason to do so.

Beard Friday.

When I'm not busy telling little children that the Easter Bunny isn't real, I'm busy taking care of old Mollie, whose health is slowly failing.

Blue door self beardtrait.

She's having difficulty walking and has lost strength in her back legs. My house has mostly wood or tile floors, and she can't stand on those anymore, her legs slip apart. So nows she's restricted to the living room, which has a rug, and has regained much of her agility. Still, she's about 15 1/2 years old and that's a lot for a hound dog.

I've never had to deal with an elderly pet before. My dogs (Pouncer and Curley) got old and passed on while I was in college. So this is all a little strange for me, wondering whether I'll know if it is time to call the vet.

In other news, some people have complained about the panda entry on their blogs. I've been accused of being a nasty person. Well, whatthefuckever. I'm clever enough, I guess, to make multiple blogs and comment back and forth on them. I just don't see the point. As an exercise in creative writing, I can see that a bored person might get into that. I guess these individuals have a lot of energy invested in their various blogs, because they go bonkers when someone points out a factual inconsistency or a borrowed photograph. Then there are long, convulated explanations followed by altered entries and deletions. And while this is happening the multiple personalities of the blogger are busy calling other people nasty names. Whatthefuckever.

What surprises me are the people who believe that "if it's on the internet, it's real." And who fail to distinguish between a chunk of computer memory and a real, living person. I feel like asking them, "Is it possible to hurt the feelings of a fictional character?" And what about the real people who have interacted with these fakes? Or listened to their medical advice? Or been called nasty names by one of their personas? At this point, my advice is believe what you want. The Easter Bunny is, in fact, real.

I'm trying to figure things out and sometimes feelings overpower common sense. It's one of those cryptic entries, and you know, when I go back and read the old ones I usually have no idea what they are about.

So I think I'll just say I wish things were different.

Post 1369. Patrick sent me an ITunes gift certificate (thanks!). Any suggestions on what I should download?

So what's the difference between being gay and being homosexual? In my mind homosexuals are people who desire sexual relations with someone of the same sex. There are certainly a lot of 'em out there. I used to think the 10 percent figure was maybe a little high, but nowadays, not so sure. There are an awful lot of married men on Craigslist looking for away-from-home loving.

The thing is, I'm not so sure I would call those guys gay. In my mind, perched up inside my cranium with its somewhat oversized inion, being gay means being open about yourself to your friends, family, and the people who happen to come across your blog. It boils down to being comfortable in your own skin. For me, I went from being a closet-case homosexual to being gay at age 21. Life got so much better.

It's unfortunate that there are tortured people like Senator Craig, never quite able to come to grips with the feelings they have inside. Craig said at his news conference, "I am not gay," and I believe him. Of course, he could not truthfully say "I'm not a homosexual," because as far as I know, there aren't many truly straight guys into sucking cocks.

But of course, I could be completely wrong about that.

Brian came from Phoenix and brought three gifts. It was like Christmas but without the myrrh. Instead I am now the owner of the Cake Bible and I will soon be making a cake from it.


Indian lunch.

We had Indian food for lunch. I love me some samosas. With that sweet tamarind/plum sauce.


Homer and Brian at the sewage treatment facility.

Afterwards I took Brian to a Qwik Stop. Why do they mispell Quike? We then went to the Sweetwater Wetlands to commune with nature and sewer smells. At one point he asked me if we should be walking down a certain path because the vegetation was growing so wildly. It was exciting. We saw a cinnamon teal and some turtles. Actually, the big surprise was to see some native fishes swimming around- that was the first time I've seen fish there.


Cobban.

In the afternoon Ray and Cobban came up and we went to karoake at IBTs. It was wretched. We then journeyed over to Venture Inn.


Homer and Ray practice tapping our feet.

We sat with Justin and Kevin and talked about our fetishes (redhead!). And there was a very cute redhead there.

This morning I'm making mac & cheese before I make a cake. I think I'll take a nap first to celebrate Labor Day.

So last night I dreamed I was Britney's new tour bus manager. The dream mostly consisted of me scrubbing and vacuuming the tour bus while encouraging her to spend more time with her kids. In real life I hate washing dishes. In dream world it was very satisfying knowing that by cleaning the tour bus kitchen, I was somehow putting Britney on the course back to normalcy and happiness.

Normalcy has returned to Tucson too. The U of Arizona is back in session and when I drive by the rec center on the way home from work I see all of the hotties, many of whom I'm now old enough to be their father. I don't feel that old. I'm pleased to see that muscles and scruff are apparently in, still. There are some young women going to college too, but I have only have a few seconds at the stop light to examine people from an anthropological point of view, and the guys get all my attention.

Home life has returned to normal. Mollie the elderly dog was in bad shape last week. Her back legs didn't want to help walk or stand up. But she has regained strength and can stumble around, tail wagging whenever it is treat time. I've never had to deal with an elderly pet before. She isn't in any pain, but the slow decline has started. Also on the homefront, the ant infestation (it was horrible) was ended through the placement of a few ant traps. I no longer have long lines of ants tromping through my house looking for dinner.

Three day weekend coming up. Brian is visiting from beautiful south Phoenix on Sunday. I think he will like the cooler temperatures here. We are having Indian buffet for lunch and then I'm taking him to a couple of places, one of which will be a mystery till we get there.

What are you doing for Labor Day weekend?

I've been following with great interest Synaptic Blue Al's posts about his close friend Miranda, who is a Sierra Club employee and is having a grand adventure. She endured a long flight from Canada to China via Air China, where they served pickled tripe as an onboard snack!

Miranda has been sent to take care of an orphaned panda cub named Nanuck at some research facility in the southern provinces of China. She emailed Al pictures of cute Nanuck and also another cub, Lola. It is a good thing she mentioned they were different cubs, because, honestly, all great panda cubs look alike to me! It was helpful that the pictures were labeled "B11nanukbearbaby," "B16nanuckplaypen," and "B41panda6" although I was a bit confused because the second panda is named Lola.

Here's a couple of screen shots I borrowed from the site. Just so you know, that material is protected by copyrights, so I'm making sure I mention that it came from Al's blog.

Nanuck and Lola, posted on 30 August 2007!


Nanuck, posted on 28 August 2007!

I did think it was a little odd that there is an English language sign in the background of Nanuck's tupperware photograph posted on August 30th. You can even sorta read the words: "---sonian National Zoological."


Nanuck!

Since this was China, I would have expected that the signs would be in Chinese, but maybe Miranda's Sierra Club employer had some signs made up special for their English-speaking staff. I know it must be real tough flying overseas to take care of darling, orphaned cubs!

Well you know me, I really can't tell the difference between one great panda cub and another. Why only a couple of years ago Chrisafer was campaigning to have the cub at the Smithsonian National Zoo renamed Butterstick. That didn't work, those darn zookeepers named it Tai-shan instead! That's because the Chinese view pandas as part of their national patrimony and require that all cubs get Chinese names! That's kinda interesting, because Miranda's cubs are named Nanuck (a Native American name!) and Lola (a Spanish name meaning strong woman).

So I really wanted to see more cute panda cub pictures, especially of lil Butterstick, and I did a Google image search for "panda Smithsonian" and up came their delightful website, just chock full of pictures of little Tai-shan and his mama Mei-Xiang.


A screen grab of some pictures of little Tai-shan at the Smithsonian National Zoo! Taken in September 2005!

Look at all of the adorable pictures. And like I said, all great panda cubs look alike to me. Even the little tupperware containers they hang out in and the signs partially visible in the background look exactly alike. I guess there is some unwritten rule that baby pandas have to be raised in exactly identical surroundings in Washington, DC and in the southern provinces of China. Who knew? I feel like such an idiot.

Well today a certain someone emailed me and told me I was an idiot. Well; that may be the case; but at least I'm real.

Warning: Super dull blogbud entry alert!

I have 102 blogs on my bloglist at the moment (I have a couple more cued up to add). Of those 14 bloggers (count 'em!) have been inside my house, including three from SF (Moby, God of Biscuits, Sam), one from DC (Jimbo), three from NYC (Patch, CFSCON, and Glennalicious), a couple from Phoenix (Aristoi and Cheapblueguitar), one currently living in Australia (Banal Chew), and four from Tucson (Boltgirl, Panchesco, Box Turtle, and Urswine Addiction). One of the new bloggers I'll be adding, Lopaka Lounge, has also visited several times and I've been to his house twice.

Beyond that, of the 102 bloggers on my list, I've met 47 in person. That's a lot; I guess I'm a sociable kinda guy. But the main point is, it really isn't that hard to meet another blogger in person. Generally the image they present on their blog is about what you see in person. I'm guessing people who meet me describe me as "smart ass." I'm also guessing that not many people would call me an idiot; however, I expect there are a few "people" out there who would disagree (TJ, is that a proper semi-colon usage?).

There are still some bloggers I haven't met who'd like to have dinner with. This is who would be sitting around the dinner table if I could magically transport them here:
- Durban Bud
- Large Tony
- AngryBlackBitch (she rules!)
- Journey by Myself

So which four bloggers on the internet do you want to have dinner with?

Just to be clear, I'm really not into dates in "tea rooms" because the Muzac really kills the mood and there isn't anyplace handy to set out all of the different brands of poppers I like to have around and most of all, most bathroom stalls don't have the necessary attachments for a sling.

I about yawned when I read that Senator Craig was into tap dancing. Those who speak loudest sorta thing. I did wonder, briefly, whether Jimbo or TJ had ever pooped in a stall next to him while he was busy peeking through cracks with his beady eyes. That would be just creepy. And smelly.

Why is it that all of the closeted Republican politicians are so fricken hot? It seems a shame they all live in faraway DC! I remember when my local, closeted Republican politician came over to have sex with my roommate (true story!). He got outed later on and ended up being an advocate for gay rights. That was the nice thing to do, in that sort of situation.

A reader wonders, "Is it possible for two bloggers to meet in person? Isn't that impossible according to the laws of nature or physics?" Why yes, dear reader, in certain circumstances, primarily on the east coast of the United States, it is difficult. But here in Tucson, I've had the pleasure of having Frank, Panchesco, Jimbo, Glenn, Brian, Jim, and Moby inside my 1927 Spanish Territorial style burnt adobe brick homestead in 2007, and nothing terrible happened.

It helps to have Roger as your friend. He is a physicist by training, he makes the unnatural natural and the impossible possible.

So I made three kinds of pizza. Trader Joe's pizza dough is a lovely thing although I wish they would put a smidgeon more dough in the bag so that the pizza would fill the entire pan. I called Brady to alert him to the pesto pizza with artichoke hearts, pinenuts, and spinach and he said tersely, "We're having an emergency, I'll call you back." I fretted through the entire party, wondering who was in the hospital, before he called to tell me that he or Patrick had spilled soda on the new wood floors. He then discovered that I had made pesto pizza and was suitably bummed out.


Frank and John, aren't they handsome?.

I also made a salad.

I had a little pre-party anxiety, worrying that guests wouldn't show up because of some exciting emergency, but in the end a total of ten arrived. Twenty percent of whom have a blog!


Moby and Brian, aren't they handsome?

After the first and second course, I had everyone wash their fingers in little bowls of perfumed lemon water (that's a lie!) and then we played Mexican loteria. Roger, unfortunately, is a terrible loteria player and was the only one not to win a 99 Cent store prize. Hopefully his nice boyfriend Richard will share one of his prizes. Frank and Moby hopefully have pictures of this happening, to prove it happened, because I was busy reading aloud the loteria images "Number 9, El Barril, Number 9, El Barril." Really, my Spanish couldn't get any worse.


Pineapple upsidedown cake, isn't it handsome?

I then made whipped cream. Forrest would later comment that until recently, he didn't know how one made this dessert sprucer-upper. It is really easy (not a lie!) and here's my little secret- I add a little bit of coconut extract along with the vanilla extract. It makes it taste extra yummy.


Frank, Homer, and Moby.

I really had a most excellent weekend. The only downside is that it is Monday and I have to go to the dentist to have a deep cleaning done (early periodontal disease!). And for some reason between 4 AM and 6 AM I had some truly scary nightmares, one involved me not being able to reach the brake pedal with my foot. Another one of which resulted in my shouting out loud, thereby waking myself up. Even now, half an hour later, I still out of sorts.

And in case you are wondering, Moby and I had a lovely time and nobody is mad at anybody. Did I mention how much my friends and pets liked Moby? That is not a lie.