Homer'sWorld

Begin Year 8. It is a cloudy day with occasional sprinkles. That matches my emotions at the moment.

Coconut cake is a baking in the oven, Patrick requested it. Pasta salad with homemade herbal-Italian dressing in the fridge. Hope it doesn't rain on volleyball. I may make another batch of watermelon rind pickles tomorrow. I'm taking my last jar north to Mark and Rodger in a couple of weeks.

Patrick and I are going to Sam's memorial service in Portland to say goodbye. I'm listening to one of DJ mixes right now. Last night Wade and I talked about him and how much we missed him.

You know, my friends are really important to me. I was so lonely as a kid, the misfit, the fag. The most positive thing about having had a blog for the last seven years is the people I have met through it, the friendships that have developed. I expect many of them will be my friends until the day I'm gone.

So what will Year 8 bring? Hoping that is better than Year 7.

I've been pretty down and on top of everything I hadn't seen Bunny in a couple of weeks. I figured the dogs had gotten her or perhaps one of the neighbors. And then last night she appeared again, happily munching away at the grass in the backyard.



















Bunny.

It was nice to see my little rabbit friend again, my spirits were lifted a bit.

Probably sometime in the summer of 1891, the hired girl finished a dress for my great grandfather Colonel. Back then, my great-great grandparents could afford a hired girl for the house and a hired man to help with the chores. Back then, little boys wore dresses. I suppose it was partly Victorian elaboration, partly the fact that changes in boy's clothing marked their changing status towards adulthood.
























Colonel and Ada, circa 1891-1892.

My great grandfather is around five-years-old in the picture, Ada is perhaps a year to a year-and-a-half.

My great grandfather had big ears. I remember them from when I was a child. We went to his house in the summer and picked strawberries from his sandy garden. He lifted a board and showed up an enormous toad underneath. The last time I saw him he was suffering from senility, claiming that a neighbor had stolen his lawn mower when my uncle had taken it away for safety reasons. He died in January 1974.

My mother has the dress and the lace collar, still in good condition almost 120 years later.
























Colonel's dress.

Little boys graduated to short pants and then, a bit later, to long pants. By age 10 they were wearing adult-style clothing.
















From left: Harrison, Perry (back), Charles (front) Ada, and Colonel, circa 1898.

Grandma said the Ransoms always spent a lot of money on clothes.

So the last few days I have been pretty down. It is hard for me to think about Sam being gone. When I hugged him goodbye in May I said to him, "Come visit Tucson," and he said, 'I'm going to."

Little things bring him to mind, a television show about airline employees. I miss trading emails with him. And yet I know that those who knew him better and loved him are suffering a million times more.

And then I see that nasty Maggie Gallagher yapping about how gay people can't have real families because she gets to decide what's what. It makes me seethe. What does that money-grubbing whore know about our families? My guess, she's just miserable because no one has ever really loved her.

Yuck, that entry was too much. Plus, I suspect it was just a con.

Sam, you were an awesome man. I wish you knew how much I admired your wit and charm, the brilliant writing on your blog.

















Sam, San Rafael Valley, 2003

He was the first blogger I was to meet in person. I think it was May or June of 2003 and I was stopped at a stoplight downtown and this incredibly cute guy walked in front of my car and LOOKED at me. He had that kind of magic. On a picnic out at the San Rafael Valley he told me about this guy he had met, Jeff, and that was his first love. Two months ago I had the privilege of meeting Greg, his second love. Sam certainly knew how to pick fine men.

A month ago he mentioned that he wished he knew where the Storicks family had come from so I researched his family tree and send him information tracing them back to a guy named Henry, born in Bavaria in 1819. He was really excited by that. I'm glad I was able to do that for him.

So long buddy, I will miss you.

Snowball, also known as Baby, squirms when I try to take his picture.
























Snowball.

Going outside to have your picture taken is exciting and scary. He is now running around the house like a maniac.

I bought a packet of zinnia seeds when Mummy was here and planted them. One came up.



















Zinnia.

For me the biggest downside of living in Arizona is that I can't grow the things I would like to grow. If I ever leave Tucson I will go to a place where I can have a real vegetable and flower garden.

The monsoon rains have started, finally. The plants are turning green and the cacti are sucking up water, growing fatter.

My house continues to be steamy. The cats jockey to see who can sit the closest to the window AC unit. I just reprimanded Puff for sitting on top of Snowball.

My mind has been preoccupied by the sudden illness of a friend. I am hoping that everything turns out alright, he is a rascal and at times brilliant and I want him to continue to be that way.

New vintage shirt. 100 percent J. C. Penny's polyester.
























Eight dollars at Buffalo Exchange.

Tropical wear is so appropriate when it is 100+ degrees and the humidity is above 50 percent. My house is a steam bath.

Mango chutney upside-down cake. One can sliced pineapple arranged in a buttered pan. Liberally spoon Trader Joe's Mango Ginger Chutney inside and between the slices.



















The red flecks are red pepper pieces.

My name is Homer and I approve of this product.
























Chutney.

Then one stick of butter melted in a frypan with a cup of brown sugar and half of the pineapple liquid from the can. Cook until it is boiling and pour over the pineapple slices. Make a yellow cake from scratch, substituting half of the milk with the remaining pineapple liquid. Place over the pineapple slices. Put in your vintage gas oven and heat your house up some more. Sit in front of the AC unit with the cats.



















Ready to go in the oven.

When finished baking a knife stuck in comes out clean. Cool in the pan. Take to a friend's house and borrow a big platter and then wonder whether it will come out when you invert it. Be very pleased that it does so with no major mishaps.



















Eat a big piece and then eat another piece because it is really good.

Puff wants to go outside sometimes, but once he gets there he can't figure out what to do.



















Puff.

There have been many times in my life where I have been in the same exact situation.

Great-great grandfather, great-great grandson.


















AmericanHouseLocationUnknown.

The fucking heat is making me cranky. I am sitting at my desk and the sweat is running down my legs. I read about yet another Republican politician telling me I should be treated with dignity, moments after she states that we are not equal to straight people.

For some reason I became especially outraged when women are homophobes. What the fuck is wrong with these women?

Maggie Gallagher is just plain fucked up. She got knocked up and the semen donor wouldn't marry her (I understand why), so she is forever pissed off about it. So she thinks that children should only have straight parents. Yes, her logic is flawful. Plus, there is the piles of money she gets dragging herself around the country making her mental problems our problems.

Linda Lingle, the governor of Hawaii, is twice divorced and has a total Lebanese hairdon't. She has future political aspirations, I am sure, and has decided that equating faggots to cousin-fuckers is the way to score some votes. Except you can marry your first cousin in Hawaii (and in the old Hawaiian royal family, brother-sister marriage took place). Total lesbian vibes on that woman.

And Stepford wife Melinda Fredricks says basically that homos are subhuman, but should be treated with some sort of mythical dignity that doesn't allow us any equal civil rights, because children must never, ever think we are equal to straight folks. Help's that her husband is the newspaper publisher so she gets some low-hitting puff piece written about her. Bitch. That pink ensemble she is wearing looks like shit.

Really, the heat is making me sooooo cranky. Don't get me started on Jan Brewer.

Let's make watermelon rind pickles.

First, buy the ingredients, including canning jars. Be amazed at how expensive everything is. Next, slice up a watermelon, remove the red stuff for Lisa to give to her 27-year-old horse, and peel and cut up the rind, soaking overnight in salty water.



















Watermelon rind, after soaking.

Next, cook until soft and fairly translucent.



















Cooked.

In a piece of cheesecloth, put cinnamon sticks, whole cloves, mustard seed, and allspice. I was supposed to use whole allspice, but had to use the ground variety instead.



















Tie up the spices inside the cheesecloth.

Then put seven cups sugar, 2 cups vinegar, the spice bag, and one lemon thinly sliced in a pot, heat until boiling, then simmer 10 minutes.



















Spicy mixture.

Next, forget to take pictures of the next couple of steps. These included adding the cooked rind to the spice-sugar-vinegar mixture and cooking it some more, then boiling the jars and lids and burning your fingers as you pull them out. Ladle the pickle mixture in, making sure to burn your fingers some more, affix lids [burned fingers again], and boil some more.



















Watermelon rind pickles.

This was the first time I have ever canned anything on my own. At the moment, I have no clue as to whether the lids are properly affixed. In addition, I tasted the pickles and they are very salty, apparently I either didn't rinse the rind enough or the salt really penetrated the rind. They still are pretty good.

Next batch, less brining. Also, need better canning equipment include one of those things to lift the jars out of the boiling water.

I really wonder how much farther this anti-Mexican shit is going to go in Arizona. The Republican Party has decided to go for broke and just make up crap now. The governor flaps her dentures at us and announces that people are being beheaded in the state (they are not) and then whines when all those tourists up and cancel their trips because they are too scared to come.

The Republicans now plan on introducing legislation that would ban citizenship to any child whose parent is here "illegally." I guess they are too stupid, too lazy, or too full of themselves to carefully examine Section 1 of the 14th Amendment to the United States Constitution:

All persons born or naturalized in the United States, and subject to the jurisdiction thereof, are citizens of the United States and of the State wherein they reside. No State shall make or enforce any law which shall abridge the privileges or immunities of citizens of the United States; nor shall any State deprive any person of life, liberty, or property, without due process of law; nor deny to any person within its jurisdiction the equal protection of the laws.

Arizona is broke. There will be millions in legal fees spent defending the law Russell Pearce wants to introduce.

Meanwhile, life goes on as normal. Crime is down for the fourth year in a row. So called "illegals" work, pay taxes, attend schools, go to church, live their lives. I feel that every person should have a good life. It amazes me how many so-called Christians feel that they should have a good life and other people should be condemned to a life of poverty.

I carpooled with Patrick to the pool volleyball party. We discussed the recent soap opera-like events of our lives.
























Patrick.

Once at the party I wished Jimbo had been there because there was an ENORMOUS bird perched up in a nearby eucalyptus tree and there was some discussion as to whether it was a hawk or an eagle. I decided that yes, it was a juvenile golden eagle, which later proved to be correct when I compared photos.



















Juvenile golden eagle.

We played many games of volleyball and my skills have certainly declined, although twice I made a nice series of points while serving.
























Volleyball!

I made a pizza- Trader Joe's herb pizza dough, pesto, mozzarella, cherry tomatoes, basil leaves, red onion, and pine nuts.
























Pizza.

And I ended up making the chocolate cake with maple cream cheese frosting. It was very good. My attempts to make maple buttercream frosting failed, and so I made maple ice cream out of the remnants, and I sampled a bit this morning- very decadent.

















Chocolate mayonnaise cake with maple cream cheese frosting.

If you like chocolate cake, this is a really excellent recipe. When I butter the cake pans I use sugar instead of flour on them, it leaves a slightly crispy crust on one side of the cake. For the frosting I used one package of cream cheese, about 1/4 cup maple syrup, and 1 1/2 to 3 cups powdered sugar. You may have to add more powdered sugar to make it firmer.

I'll miss you, Mama Cat.
























Mama Cat AKA Calico.