Homer'sWorld

Begin Year 6. Five years ago today I wrote a sorta dull entry, thus starting this here blog thing. Five years later I'm still (occasionally) writing dull posts and posting pictures and such.

Am I getting Blog Middle Age Syndrome? I checked on the Way Back Machine and see that of the 39 blogs I read in June 2004, only 18 are still around in some form or another. I guess I have stuck around because I live a truly fascinating life that must be documented in great detail. Or maybe because I have met many, many nice peoples, some of whom have become my bestest of friends (Hi Brian and Jimbo!). Or because this is a sorta diary that lets me record what I was doing on about 90 percent of the days since 31 July 2003.

Year 5 was an interesting year. The highlights were trips to NYC (hi Aaron! and Chris!) and DC (hi TJ and Brett!), Jimbo's annual visit, visits by Moby and Rob, hanging with my buds here in Tucson (Sandy, Patrick, Brady, and Forrest), and lots of fucking awsome lemon meringue pies and fattening cakes. Awesome! Did you know that AWESOME is my word for this year, replacing FABULOUS? Now you do! This is also the Year of The Exclamation Point!!!

The lowlights were dealing with the less-than-awesome fake-blogger mess (Homer threatens other bloggers with death! He's not a scientist! Someone hacked my site and put those pictures there!), Mama Cat going blind, and occasionally feeling less than inspired at work.

What will Year 6 bring? Stay tuned to find out.

I am back in Tucson, Sandy picked me up at the airport and later, at 3:30 AM I took him to the train station for his trip out to Palm Springs, the first step on his journey back to Australia for a few months. I will miss him while he is gone, I've gotten used to his company. However, I know that his hubby Mark will be excited to see him.

I didn't take a lot of pictures of my trip to DC, and a lot of the ones I took didn't come out. Here are a few to prove that bloggers can meet in person.

TJ and Homer.
























Orchid! Please note, orchids do not usually have blogs.

Brett and Jimbo.

I did not have a really good picture of Archerr. Please visit his blog and/or his podcast website to see some, including the LEMON MERINGUE PIE pictures he took.

Now that I'm back in Tucson, I've got to figure out what to do with the rest of the summer. Any suggestions?

So no one was hurt and a lemon meringue pie was made. My buddy was skeptical about the need to make one from scratch "You can buy one at the store." After he tasted it, he agreed that it was AWESOME!

I am visiting Archerr and his boyfriend. and today we visited three wineries and I sipped wine and even petted a nice kitty cat. Archerr's boyfriend made me grilled cheese samiches for dinner and tomorrow I am going to teach Archerr how to make LEMON MERINGUE PIE!!! This will be the first time I have made one while on the east coast.

I am dreading the return flight back to Tucson. Remember when flying in the Aluminum Tubes of Death were fun? On my first flight in 1986, Detroit to NYC, they served a meal with real metal silverware. US Airways doesn't even offer fucking peanuts. I am surprised you don't have to pay to poop in the nasty toilet.

I walked home from the bar, I was supposed to take a cab but got tired of waiting. It was hot and sweaty at Towne and I felt like the oldest person there.

Today was my day-of-doing-nothing. I feel that every trip should involve one day of doing nothing you are supposed to do. I didn't go to a restaurant, I didn't go to a museum. Instead I read and watched lots of stupid telly programs and was lazy. It was very nice.

Tomorrow will be action packed, I just know it.

I could move into TJ and Rob's cute little guest room and be their house bear. I'd get up early and pick up whatever messes they made, I'd make fresh-squeezed orange juice and put it on a tray with little frilly umbrellas and walk down the stair extra loud so they'd hear me and I wouldn't accidently walk in on them doing manly stuffs. And if I did walk in accidentally, well, I wouldn't tell anybody but I'd just turn bright red and back out of the room begging forgiveness. I know that would happen only about once a week.

I'd watch my stories while I was cleaning house and in the afternoon I'd have a little glass of Diet Coke (with a frilly umbrella) and watch Dr. Phil and Oprah and when TJ came back from the gym, I'd breathlessly act out all of the turmoils involved. After a while they'd get tired of me and give me a quarter to go catch something at the cinema. Instead I'd run over to Jimbo's and we would do facials and gossip about the menz in DC.

In other news, good lord, so many clean cut guys in this town. I stick out like a sore something or other with my bushy goatee. I am down right exotic here!

"Where's the darn mint on my pillow?" I shouted at TJ's B & B. Everything else was perfect, especially important after the flights from hell. Did you know that it is actually annoying and a bit scary to sit on the runway in Tucson for three hours (until 3:00 AM) while the pilot figures out why the valves in the fueltank aren't working right? Somehow I survived, although it took me 12 or 13 hours until I walked through the front door of TJ and Rob's house. They are wonderful hosts and we sat around and talked and watched the storm updates on the telly and the bed was nice and soft and I hope I didn't snore loudly.

In other important news, there have been lemon meringue pie negotiations!

"No fats, fems, Blacks, or Asians" "No one over 40" "No bears" "No twinks" etc. etc.

Blah blah blah. Have you looked at personal ads lately? Fuck, there are a lot of people with laundry lists of what they don't like.

Apparently many white gay men have no tact and never wonder what it would feel like to be a black gay man reading those sort of ads. While I guess some of this is physical attraction, but whenever I see an ad that states "No!" to certain racial groups, all I can think is "Racist." Someone who would put forth that much effort to make someone else feel undesirable is probably a nasty person inside. In my opinion.

Similarly, many skinny, smooth guys must fervently believe that they will never gain weight or grow hair on assorted places. Hahahahaha. Talk to most of us 40-somethings and we will confess that we never really expected those extra pounds to magically appear on their tummies and that our hair would migrate south.

My advice, not that you want to hear it, is to list things that you like in your online personal ads "Canning pears, lichen collecting, double fisting!" and skip the nasty laundry lists of things you don't like, you know the list that makes you look like a mean person. Of course, if you are a shallow, mean person, please say so in the ad, that would make things a lot easier.

Damn you Sandy! This is now stuck in my head:

Party in my Tummy!

I'll be in DC next week, staying at Durban Bud's B&B, Jimbo's Clothing Optional Resort, and Archerr's Fruit and Veggie Stand. Some other blogger is supposed to be in town too, if he can be pried away from his chicken coop.

Last time I was in DC I got a tad tipsy at Jimbo's party and later said some stupid stuff and insulted somebody by accident. This time around I won't get tipsy, but the other stuff, who knows!

I have to go to the National Archives for work and the Library of Congress (where I have 5 books, one of which I wish they would get around to cataloguing [I think they lost it]) for a consulting job I'm doing. Jimbo says he is taking me someplace, hopefully with no poison ivy because the first time I was in DC, in 1988, I discovered just how allergic to poison ivy I was- I had to go to Urgent Care where they gave me calamine lotion, which is next to useless.

The flight to DC is a horror. Night owl flight, apparently stops somewhere and then lands in Charlotte, NC, then I have to run to another plane, which drops me in Baltimore (hi Mark!) and then I take the train to DC. The first day there I think TJ will just have to pat me on the head and talk in short words to me.

Joey likes to take naps with me.


























Snuggles.

Goodness, it is fiercely hot out at the dig site. By the time I get home (at about 3 PM), I am half melted. It doesn't help that I work so hard that I am half worn out too.

So I come home, take a shower, and lie down for a while and Joey jumps up on the bed for some pets.

My new hightop sneakers hurt my feet. I am sure I will grow used to the agonizing pain, just like I have grown used to the gray hairs in my goatee or the fact that Puff will vomit a hairball on my bed about once a week.

The phone company very nicely did something so that people who block their phone numbers can't call me at 2:42 AM. Last night I was not awakened by prank calls, although I did wake up and look at the clock at 2:41 AM, but then promptly fell asleep.

Sandy and I had dinner at the B-Line and we both had blueberry pie for dessert. It was the best blueberry pie I have ever had. It reminded me of going blueberry picking when I was about 12- all of the family going out to the patch in the woods and picking huge tubs, fingers and lips stained purple. We'd freeze them and put them in our huge chest freezer and eat them with sugar all winter long.

It was nice being in the office today, it has been so fricken hot outside the last few days. I have developed a very dark tan, and although I know we aren't supposed to think this, I still think I look better tan than pale.

The phone rang twice at around 2:42 AM last night. Also around 1 AM. It says that it is a "private number." I could hear the person breathing. Luckily, my phone provider has a tracing service that allows me to report the prank calls to the police and eventually whoever is doing it gets in trouble. I have a pretty good idea of who it is, they must have a lot of time on their hands.

And then there is the delightful letter I got from the City of Tucson Police Department. They recently started Photo Radar and in the letter is a picture of me driving my car at 8:47 on June 23 at 41 MPH in a 30 MPH zone.

Of course, it is a total scam. How can one prove that one was driving that speed at that moment- my word against a police officer's. Lots of questions. How many tickets are they required to issue daily? Where does the money go ($191)? The website gives contradictory information- do I or don't I get three points on my driver's license?

The City's website claims that they aren't making any money off of the tickets. I don't believe that for a moment. They run the photo radar thingy for about 12 hours a day. If they issue say 10 tickets an hour, that's a minimum of $1500 dollars an hour, over $15,0000 a day. Their overhead involves someone sitting in the two vans and someone clicking a mouse a few times and voila, lotsa of money rolling in.

That was, btw, my first ticket ever.

My letter to John McCain:



















SkeleCindy and the McCainster.

So gays should never be allowed to adopt? And opposes gay marriage?

I guess gay marriage made you stick your cock into Cindy while still married to the first wife, you know, the one that patiently waited while you were over being tortured in Vietname, the one that had that bad accident and walked with a limp afterwards. Not so pretty and no money. Helped of course, that the gays made SkeleCindy look pretty, although it was nasty of you to call her a cunt in public.

So yeah, gay marriage ruined your first marriage. And gay adoption was the reason you moved to Arizona to position yourself as Carpetbagger of the Year so that you could get a Congressional seat playing up your POW and war hero status. Exactly what have you done since you were in Congress and then the Senate? Oh yes, that campaign finance stuff that you are busy ignoring now.

When exactly was the last time you dragged your ass into the Senate for a vote? At least Obama can get his butt back to the Senate chambers once in a while, even though I'm not so pleased about that FISA shit. I guess the Guvment is going to be monitoring whether I look at anatomical pictures of men online (research purposes only, I'm an Anthropologist!). Maybe they are the ones calling me at 2:45 AM.

So Johnny boy, here's a little reminder- gay people pay taxes and vote and really should have all the same rights as straight people. The Religious Wrong folks are heading towards the trash bin and the Republican party is heading toward extinction if they continue the gay this and that shit because the young people of our country mostly don't give a shit.

Insincerely, Homer

Someone has called the last two nights at 2:45 am and made their phone beep at me. Nice...

Got sunburned yesterday hanging out in Ray and Cobban's pool. We were not in the pool when a massive rain storm passed through, it was amazing to listen to the rain and hail come down.

It rained on Friday at the dig and I got completely soaked walking to my car. We are having an above-average monsoon here this year.

And I joined a gym on Saturday so I can sweat off a few pounds or move them from point A to point B.

I grew up, revised. My sister Elizabeth sent me the two photos I was missing, so here is the whole series.
























Kindergarten, 1969-1970.


On my birthday Mama made me cupcakes to take to school, each with a little plastic animal on top. I picked first and chose the llama. Pam wasn't there so I got hers too, it had a tiger. If I close my eyes I can still see those little plastic animals. I wish I still had them.

























First grade, 1970-1971.


For the school fall pageant I practiced a little speech about Holland. We wore little paper caps and I got up and gave my speech and four other kids did a little dance while wearing wooden shoes.

















Second grade, 1971-1972.

The school district sent me and my brother to a new school district and my teacher put me in an advanced reading class. Towards the end of the school year I burst out crying when they moved me away from the map, they attributed that to my grandfather dying, but really it was because I couldn't read the writing on it anymore. It wasn't until the next year they figured out I needed glasses.
























Third grade, 1972-1973.

I was so skinny my mother had to sew pants for me. She made me a pair of blue jeans, the first I ever had, and at recess Sheryl Fitch knocked me off the slide and they ripped at the knees and were ruined. I didn't have another pair until I was in my teens.

Fourth grade, 1973-1974.

We moved again, to a new school, and I was deeply unpopular because I was smarter than some of the other kids, and that wasn't cool. Luckily, the teachers for the most part liked me and encouraged me to read and learn.

Fifth grade, 1974-1975.

My school was so small and poor that our health education books were from the 1930s. I remember the lesson on how eating too much chocolate cake was bad for you. I guess it didn't stick.

Sixth grade, 1975-1976.

My parents hated that I wanted longer hair, my father thought that was awful. It saved them money at the barbers, which was a good thing since we were so poor by then. I wore hand-me-downs and the following year my mother told me I had to buy my own clothes from now on. I really didn't know we were poor until much later in life, mainly because most of the other kids were poor too.


My seventh grade pictures didn't turn out and after that it was understood that school pictures were a luxury we couldn't afford.

Let's jump ten years forward in time:

College graduation picture, 1986.

I walked directly from the orthodonist college, where I had just had my braces taken off, and had the picture taken. I was so happy, straight teeth and a pretty smile. Good lord I was skinny back then (about 150 pounds!).

Ground Squirrel comes and eats the seeds I put out for him every day at work.


























Ground Squirrel, click to see every bit of cuteness.

If the ground squirrel who lives around the corner comes, Ground Squirrel chases him off while yelling at him with loud peeps. Ground Squirrel doesn't mind the little finches with red heads or the mourning doves. The other day, a mother Gambel's quail and her nine chicks stopped by for a visit.

I worry that the coyote or the bobcat will come and eat Ground Squirrel, I would miss it when he comes up and looks into the window at me. Sometimes I am distracted at work watching him stuff his little cheeks and then dive into his hole.

When you are in a bad mood, what do you do to change that situation?

Yesterday the pool was at 88 degrees, perfect for playing many games of naked pool volleyball.



















The guys.

I made pico de gallo salsa and brought along leftover patriotic cupcakes.



















Sandy serving.

A fun time was had by all.



















We await the ball.

It started raining as Sandy and I drove back.




















Patrick and Homer.

With the monsoon season ongoing my house is very hot, so playing in the pool is a relief.

Because of the rain the fireworks were delayed.

























Homer and Steve.

Sandy hosted a party at his casita and Steve, Brian, Carlos, Ray, Cobban, Mitch, Jackson, Bill, Abe, David G., Jeffrey S., and Christine came.



















Jeffrey S., Ray, and Christine.
























I sat on the roof with some of the guys and finally the fireworks started.

























Strange that the City of Tucson celebrated the demise of evil Mr. Helms, but I agreed, what a great thing to do.

I grew up

I'm missing my school photos from 1972 and 1973, I'll have to check to see whether I have them.
























Kintergarden, 1969-1970.

























First grade, 1970-1971.

















Second grade, 1971-1972.

























Fourth grade, 1974-1975.

























Fifth grade, 1975-1976.

Later. Someone asked where the later pictures are- my 6th grade pictures didn't turn out, and after that there wasn't any money for school pictures (we became poor farmers).

I looked through a box of photographs tonight. Strange, to actually hold images printed on paper. Some were stuck together, digital pictures never do that.

Was I really that skinny? Did I always take such horrible photos?

I found a handful to scan and send my sister, who has been assembling a large number of family pictures. Some of the ones that were pointless (sunset photos taken where?) got tossed. I really need to go through the rest and sort out which ones to keep, which ones to get rid of. A few of the ex and his family need to go to the ex's mother, who will appreciate them.

Digital photography is so much easier, less expensive, and doesn't fill up a box.