and the number one thing you never want to hear in a public place is...

... "You look sexy in that, mom!"

El Sobrino Supremo has heard his daddy tell his mama that she looks sexy many a time. But to hear a six year old relay this to his mother in a Target store out in suburban St. Louis is still - how to put this - discombobulating. We're pretty sure he has no idea what "sexy" means.

I miss them, but I also missed sleeping in my own bed. The Neph shares his room with me when I visit as he has a trundle bed. A trundle bed made for children. Also, he likes to giggle late into the night and fall off his bed into the trundle with me. Which is not conducive to sleep. Trust me.

Him: "Your mattress is a lot softer. I don't know if I can sleep in my bed."
Me: "Wanna trade, buddy? I don't mind."
Him: (no response since I didn't fall for his careful ruse to cuddle up with me)

The Neph is still a cuddler. Unfortunately, he's not a quiet cuddler. He twists and turns like an alligator sinking its prey. He'll take you down the unhappy road to Insomnia if you'll let him. The offer was appreciated as it was obvs well-intentioned, but 35 year olds need their beauty sleep something fierce.

Supreme Niece was supremely cute funny. I wish I could post soundbites. Her hair is more than halfway down her back and she is only 14 months old. Insanity!

Now for my most recent disappointing horoscope - I'm thinking this means I'm not getting any this week:

Libra (Sept. 22-Oct. 22) You'll set boundaries for yourself this week. No arbitrary Jackson Pollock are you, letting paint pile up to whatever height while allowing all sorts of nails and pennies to get mixed in. You'll carefully flatten your masterpiece with newsprint like a de Kooning. Some will scoff at your self-imposed limitations, but restraint often leads to greater freedom and creativity. You may not be remembered as the guy who tore bathroom doors off their hinges, but you'll live longer for it.

extra long weekend

My weekend started last night, and it was quite the holiday weekend kickoff. (My mojo appears to have returned and is in good working order - be afraid... very afraid.)

Tomorrow I take off for several days in the heartland. As previously expressed, I need to get my hands on my niece and remind her what an awesome aunt I am. Supreme Neph already knows that I rawk, and there are brand-new books from Strand (a gorgeous hardback version of The Owl and the Pussycat and In the Night Kitchen by Maurice Sendak) for our mutual enjoyment. He's such a boy, but still a cuddler.

I get to spend two nights in my bed after returning, and then will be headed up to NYC for The Alabama Slama's baptism. (As she is in the process of being confirmed in the Episcopalian church.) I'm going to be her godmother. (I almost wish I was a gay man just so I could tell people that I was her fairy godmother.) We're also going to partake in mani-pedi's, some beautification at Bergdorf Goodman, and shopping. Duh. (See, the fairy godmother remark wasn't such a stretch.)

Hope your holiday is enjoyable.

rant

In the Autumn of 1997, I did a very hurtful thing to my sister out of misguided concern. I told her that the family did not feel that her fiance was good enough for her. She was an adult by this point, had finished college and embarked on a promising career in health care. Yet, despite knowing that she was a bright and healthy person I decided that she didn't know what she was doing; that she lacked the necessary self-esteem or confidence to make the right decision about who she should marry.

Like I said, this hurt her terribly. I caused her such pain; that I reckoned her judgement was not as good as mine. How very arrogant.

Fortunately, she didn't listen to me or anyone else who felt she was making a mistake. And I promised her that I would work very hard to make her husband feel welcome. They have a strong marriage and two beautiful children. My brother-in-law has grown considerably since he married my sister - he's gone to school, mellowed, is crazy about his wife and children, invited my folks to build this large house with them so they could all live together, and makes me feel like I am home whenever I visit. The fact is, my sister was right about this guy. She saw his true potential.

I write this because I have a friend in a similar situation as my sister was back in 1997, and I ache for her. Sometimes it isn't easy to like the friends of our friends, or the partners of our friends, or the family of our friends and partners. You just can't like everybody.

In the absence of emotional or physical abuse, I think it is an incredibly bad idea to tell a friend that you feel they are ruining their life by choosing to stay with their current partner. It can only result in hard feelings and, most likely, the end of a friendship. I thank GOD, every day, that my sister and I were able to move beyond those hurtful words. I'm so glad that I was wrong, and so glad to know the father of The Supremes.

Good relationships change people. People grow and flourish, they can become stronger, more adaptable, more flexible, more tolerant - it's kinda a whole Six Million Dollar Man thing. Change can be a great thing; stagnation is the enemy. Furthermore, we must support our friends even if they do make mistakes (well, not the headlong-into-self-destruction-lather-rinse-repeat cycle), or who will we lean on when we commit various and inevitable idiocies?

So if any of you have some sort of idea about warning your friends off various partnerships (again, not talking about abusive situations or typical teen-angst bullshit), don't. Just shut your cakehole and spend a little more time on your own issues.

Thank you.

why couldn't they have waited till i came to visit?

A hot air balloon landed in my family's yard (they walked it out to the court to get it loaded onto the truck) this evening, bringing all the neighbors and children within a half-mile radius.

Perhaps I'm exaggerating, but I'm a bit piqued that stuff like this doesn't happen when I'm visiting.

In the photo you can see, from the left, brother-in-law holding Supreme Niece (the pink blob), Supreme Neph, and my dad in the yellow polo. 

the joke is on me

A good friend built my computer for me about two years ago. It was such a wonderful gesture - and he never asked me for anything in return. His wife was the first person I met when I moved to DC; she saw me lugging stuff inside Thompson Markward Hall (where I lived for a loooong five months) and insisted upon helping me get all my belongings inside and up to my room. She and her husband have always been this generous with themselves and material things. They're also funnier than hell.

So, whenever my friends asked me how the computer was running these past couple years I replied that it was great. No glitches. However, when my friend was staying with me last week, she asked, "R wants to know if the computer is okay."

"You know, he asks that everytime I see or talk to him. Is there something I should know? Have all the other computers he's built blown up?"

"Well, funny you mention that. Apparently when he was building yours, one of the wires starting burning. He replaced it and all, but wanted to make sure everything was running allright."

I have a potential fire hazard in my little studio. Nice.

This is the funniest thing I've seen in the past three days. Crass, but funny.

why are weekends so short?

Yesterday I got to spend some quality time with TMS, which was really nice. We went to Copenhaver to order her wedding invitations and then visitied the National Cathedral shop and spent some time at the St. Sophia Greek festival. It had been forever since I'd had any pasticcio, and it was very good. Also, tried a beer called Fix Hellas and enjoyed it a great deal.

I picked up my new glasses on Thursday - they're by OGi, and I purchased them from Optical Images at Washington's Union Station. This makes the 3rd pair of eyeglasses I've bought from this shop - they seem small, but they have a huge collection of amazing eyewear. This pair is both quirky and fashionable enough to take me through work and play.

if cute could kill

I started my day by finding this photo in my email inbox - at this point the day really could not get any better so I should just go back to bed.

Except, I can't. I'm headed out soon to help TMS pick out wedding invitations. She is starting to mimic her fiance with her lack of posting.

Eight more days till I get to see Supreme Niece and Nephew.

Check out this very funny link. Now. 

just a fluke?

Airplane! script: knows it
Pricey shave products: you bet
No nose hair: thank God.

Yep - had a nice date for the first time in eons. He could talk circles around me. Was wearing a Givenchy suit. I definitely felt a bit mousey since my next hair appointment isn't till May 30. Speaking of, I'm thinking about going blonder again. It's that time of year.

oh holy crap

The good ole Washington Post caught my attention tonight with this headline, "Chimp-Human Hybrid Possible". Of course, my thoughts quickly turned to some of the men I've dated. (The article itself is rather interesting, as well as weird.)

Then, I saw this piece in New York Magazine about former Senator and current New School President Bob Kerrey. Evidently, he's all about cockblocking (definitely check out the Wonkette version too). I'm not certain why this made me laugh so much...

13 days till i'm slave to these little monsters again

The shopping countdown to the next long weekend with my family is rapidly ticking by. I have to cover mother's day, father's day, 2 birthdays, the usual make-my-sobrinos love me gifts, and need something for the brother in law so he won't feel left out.

My heart yearns for the Supremes. The baby has been saying my name (or, making a close approximation to my nickname). El Sobrino Supremo has been Mr. Chatty Pants on the telephone, which indicates he's missing me or really really bored at home.

Dating. Well, I might have a first date with a fellow nervee this week. He looks fantastic on paper. Could turn out swell or utter hell. Also, Baby J calls out of the blue tonight to see if I'd mind if she gave my number to a good friend of hers. Problem is that said friend lives in OH. How does one do long-distance blind dating? 

what would you do for love?

Mothers are known for their self-sacrifice and boundless love. Well, some mothers are. Some are known for their preference of wire hangers over bare hands.

Mom of Whisky Pants (MoWP) is quite a woman. She has never stopped being a mom and puts a lot of grandmothers to shame. She knows (usually) when to keep her yap shut and when to intervene - I think few people understand how to keep intervention in balance/check. MoWP (and DoWP, for that matter) now shares living space with my sister, brother-in-law and their kids (the Supremes). While most grandparents are enjoying their retirement, she is helping to raise her grandchildren. She foregoes buying herself new clothing or other nice things so that she can spend money on the new house, or to buy things for the Supremes. She goes without sleep a few nights a week to give my sister and brother-in-law a break from baby duty. She has taught the baby to say my nickname!

She is there for me every single day. She is 100% supportive at least 95% of the time. Even when I make dumbass decisions (which seem to be getting rarer with age, thank goodness). She gave me a chunk of change a while back, from her own savings, to help me with a debt - and her social security check barely covers her health insurance. I think I'm supposed to pay her back for this but she has never mentioned the debt. In fact, she has directed my father to help me budget so that I can buy my own home.

She is fallible. She makes mistakes. She projects her own fears and insecurities on me. She hurts my feelings sometimes, but only because she worries about me.

She is proud of me. She thinks I'm hilarious. She thinks I'm beautiful and brilliant. She thinks I'm a good person. She loves me to the nth degree.

She gives far more of herself (time, love, and knowledge) than she expects of others. She feels badly when people don't appreciate her. They should appreciate her. She keeps family connections alive. She is the center of the family. She is my favorite person. Period.

gee, officer, if i had known you were coming i would have neatened up

My day began with a BLAM! BLAM! BLAM!

I was rudely awakened by the po-lice around 7 am this morning. They had a warrant to search my apartment for a 'sheila thunderbird'. Incidentally, that is NOT my real name.

Me peeking through the window: "yes?"
Officer: "Ma'am, please open the door?"
I comply, but don't open the security gate.
Me: "What is the problem?"
Officer: "We have a warrant to search the premises for a "sheila thunderbird."
Me, rubbing my head sleepily and with incredulity: "what?"
Officer: "Please open your security gate. We have a search warrant. What is your name?"
Me, getting rather irritated at this point: "Whisky Pants." (Actually, I gave them the real name.) "You have a warrant? What for?"
Officer: "Can I see some id?"
Me: "Um, sure." The I fumble around my workbag for what seems to be hours since I can't see a damned thing without my glasses. "Here is my work badge."
The officer accepts the id, but still insists on coming in to search the tiny room I inhabit.

Seriously, if I was going to have someone over, it wouldn't be some felon named 'sheila thunderbird'. Which, according to everybody, cannot be a real name. As far as an alias goes, it is pretty awesome. In any case, she barges through my apartment and finally accepts the fact that nobody is hiding in my crawlspace of a bathroom.

Now, shouldn't they have shown me the actual warrant?

The landlord, who inhabits the house upstairs, says this is the second time that they have executed a warrant for this person at our address. She has owned the house for nearly 10 years, and I've been here for five and a half years. The fact that the police can't keep their databases up to date is disturbing. And profoundly irritating for a light sleeper like myself.

looking for the positive

Recently, it seems like a lot of people have been in the blog doldrums. There's a bit of tension out there. Some of us aren't getting laid (like me), or have been suffering the slings and arrows of blogging while dating (not me, as this would also require dating), or having problems parking on Sundays (just about everyone who lives in Logan Circle), or have been fired (Porter Goss), or about to be indicted (Chairman Ney - I'm looking at you), etc...

Then, just when you're right at the abyss, you come across something really fresh, evocative, surprising, and happy. Go read about Sheila's super Super. Feel good about people again. At least for the next 5 minutes.

less dating = more reading

The last trip to NYC resulted in a bounty of new-to-me books. Most of them have been lent to me by the Alabama Slama. The upside of not being excited about dating is the opportunity and time to improve my mind!

Already read:
1. Gengis Khan and the Making of the Modern World by Jack Weatherford - okay - read this one prior to the NYC trip, but it was enjoyable.
2. Christ the Lord by Anne Rice. Read it over Easter. Which is semi-appropriate. An odd departure for Rice.
3. The News from Paraguay by Lily Tuck. It was a fast read, but I don't know how I feel about it.

In the process of reading (yes, I have three point five books going at once and it is madness, I tell you):
1. Interpreter of Maladies by Jhumpa Lahiri. How have I not read this before?
2. The Bridegroom by Ha Jin. I loved War Trash.
3. Cocktails for Three by Madeline Wickham. Brit chick lit. Yay!
3.5. The Plot Against America by Philip Roth. I started it, but haven't been able to get back into it. The premise disturbs me.

Books to be read:
1. Possession by A. S. Byatt. Purchased at Strand books.
2. The History of the Kelly Gang by Peter Carey.
3. Guns, Germs, and Steel by Jared Diamond.
4. Collapse, How Societies Choose to Fail or Succeed by Jared Diamond.
5. Three Junes by Julia Glass.

still not excited about dating, inanywayshapeorform

If you got messages like this, you too would not look favorably upon dating:

"Hi,
I would like to send you a very interesting text to read...
please,write me a message to this address:
xxxxxx_at_bluewin.ch ;(I cannot attach Word files in this
web site)
bye!
Fausto"

Scary, no? What does this odd Swiss man, a "writer" who is into gymnastics and blue grass music, want to send me? The Fausto nickname is frightening enough. The internet creates a dirty vicious cycle - perverts find more ways to be perverted and it provides mostly anonymous ways to engender more perversion. Perhaps Fausto just wants to send me some romantic ode about how pretty my profile photo is, but I somehow doubt it.

i sprained my mojo

My mojo is so broke that it won't even work on me. (God do I love me some Zombies.) Seriously. The only dudes I'm attracting are the nerdy, the old, and a combination of the two. However, since the mojo appears to be on vacation, this does not matter so much. It is more disconcerting that disturbing.

Which leads me to be somewhat relieved that a friend will be coming into town and staying with me tomorrow night. A married friend who has given birth to three children and who will, no doubt, think going to bed at 10 is a real luxury. But still, it lets me off the hook for not having a date on Friday. If only she wasn't flying out of Dulles...

Work has been far more rewarding since starting the new job on Monday. They actually value me and express their appreciation. Like, every other day! Then again, I am working for the most demoralized agency in the entire federal government at the moment. The beat-down hasn't taken its effect quite yet.

i lack the discipline or interest to be a puma

A puma is a cougar under the age of 40 - but like cougars, they prey on younger men. Nerve (click on it when you get home as most workplaces won't let this site through the firewalls) has damn funny article on how to be a cougar, while pointing out the hypocrisy of most men when confronted with the concept of older women with younger men. It kinda sounds like too much work anyway.

"I'm so tired of the double standard," I said, pulling on a black mini and
leopard-print halter.

"When I mentioned this expedition to certain dudes, they acted as if I were opening another Neverland Ranch. Meanwhile, half of them won't even look at a woman over thirty."

"I actually don't think men in their forties are that different from men in their twenties," Red pointed out. "The main difference is that when a man is in his forties, his back hair starts to connect with his chest hair."

"It becomes like a shirt," Jen added.

low-hanging fruit

I've had so many blah dates in the past few months that I'm concerned that I'll mistakenly fall for the next even slightly non-blah guy. I have a semi-sober theory that this is what happens to online daters; they have so many mediocre dates that their perception of real chemistry is altered and they end up with the next not-so-bad thing. I do not favor the practice of allowing "good to get in the way of best". Usually. Also, I don't think that I have unrealistic expectations.

The Saturday guy smokes. Also, isn't close to his family. Also, not so into me either. (Sigh of relief.) Most importantly, I didn't feel the requisite tingle in my happy place. I despair that the tingle has gone forever. (The naturally-produced tingle. We don't count battery-operated tingles.)

Chemistry.com continues to be a source of amusement. Instead of tossing out every dork I've taken to giving more of them a chance, which has led me to an even darker view of humanity than I held previously. Chemistry has this odd list of issues for which you register your enthusiasm, or lack thereof. One of those issues has to do with the need for sexual adventurousness. Lots of guys seem to find this a critical issue. I think they see this category and think, "hells yeah, I have to have sex, " while women see this and wonder, "What? BDSM? Rear entry? I'm being asked this before he's even bought me a drink? Danger! Danger! Danger!"