Our Vegas trip is coming to a close.
My brother's wedding was very sweet. It was in Fire Valley state park about an hour outside of Vegas. The location is otherworldly and beautiful.
We are about to embark on two and a half weeks of travel-- three days in Vegas for my brother's wedding, then a week in Ireland for the husband's job, then a week in Paris for vacation.
While in Ireland, I'll be working. This is the farthest I've pushed the "remote work from anywhere" provision that my job has.
T&J were in town for the weekend. T is one of the husband's oldest friends. They have known each other since they were five.
T&J are making the leap to retirement. They are selling their home, and buying a smaller, but nice place in some tiny town in Oklahoma. They think this will reduce their expenses enough that it will fund their retirement.
J has prostate cancer. I think it's under control. They intend to use Medicare to pay for any additional treatment.
Their plan is too risky for me.
We've been discussing the retirement more seriously. J, a friend of mine, decided she wants to retire around age 55. As lucrative as her job is, she hates it.
That got the husband and I talking. We are doing our jobs, more for the money than because it's our calling.
The husband's said that he doesn't want to retire until after his mother dies. That's a clear qualifier. Sometimes his mother does need emergency cash. Us having jobs is a nice safety net.
Last night we had dinner with her. She is constantly on oxygen for COPD. Her travel oxygen machine is breaking down so she has to stay close to power at all times. This is fine while she is at her retirement home. It's more complicated when she wants to go out. We spent a good amount of time discussing the type of machine she needed, and the complexities of Medicare.
We spent the weekend in Seaside Oregon with QJ & C6.
Driving back from Seaside-- it was raining hard. The roads were slippery. Just ahead of us two cars collided. Everyone in the traffic around us stomped on their breaks. As we braked, the car infront of us got awfully close, awfully fast. On the right side of our vehicle, we saw a Fedex truck spin around-- a complete 180.
And then it all stopped. The people in the accident ahead of us were OK. No additional cars were damaged. We breathed deeply and then carried on our way.
Back to Seaside--
We were there for an annual AA convention-- The North Coast Roundup. While I'm not in AA, I regularly attend. I have so many friends in AA that it is a nice weekend away. The speakers are always interesting. I may not have their problems, but it helps me sympathize.
The convention is large. While I don't know the numbers, well over 1000 people attended the Saturday evening speaker.
Seattle is very dog friendly. I know of at least four dog friendly bars and restaurants. I frequently bring my dog along to my weekly dinners with C2.
I think my dog is appreciative of the outing. Of course her nose regularly pops out from under the tables that we eat at. But she never begs or barks and she loves sniffing. This is different than her life in the Suburbs. At home she doesn't hesitate to bark at strange dogs. Or aggressively beg when we are eating.
For years we've attempted tp train our dog to play fetch properly. When you thow a ball, she'll chase it. However, after she retrieves the ball, she will runs off and lay someplace where she can chew on it undisturbed.
I've used treats to encourage her to return the ball to me. Unfortunately, once she knows I have treats, she focuses on the treat and ignores the ball. She is very food focused.
"Neither a borrower, nor a lender be. For loan oft loses both itself and friend. And borrower dulls the edge of husbandry."
A few weeks ago, I loaned C2 our iron. That was my mistake. C2 doesn't want to buy more stuff. He borrows when he can.
Of course, last Saturday the husband needed the iron. I reminded him that C2 borrowed it. The husband was miffed.
"He has a good income. He can go buy his own iron." The Husband worked off his frustration by heading out and buying a new iron.
A few days later when we shared these events with our room mate, she said "Irons are cheap. Why didn't he buy one?"
I texted C2 about the loaned iron. He responded "What does it really mean to 'loan' anyway?"
My bad. I have learnt my lesson.
Tuesday night the dog was sick. I am not sure what brought that on.
The dog is very good at warning us when she has to go outside. She will paces near us and barks. Should I walk towards her, she will respond by heading to the front door.
She did that at least half a dozen times during the night. Towards the end I slept on the sofa nearest the front door.
Then it was over. By 8am she was acting hungry so I fed her. Nothing went wrong.
That evening I needed to catch up on sleep, so I pushed my regular Tuesday dinner with C2 to Wednesday.
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C2 occasionally sees the homeless man who now owns his blanket and has gives me updates on its whereabouts. C2 wants to take pictures of the blanket and the man. He holds back because the man looks unstable.
Speaking of purging... C2 is also also getting rid of old stuff.
He owned a nice blanket that he hasn't used in years. Decades maybe. He acquired the blanket before his tours in Iraq and Afghanistan, before years of working in D.C. and Colorado. It was too nice to throw out. He never needed it, so he kept it in storage or the closet.
Reality finally set in. C2 was never going to use the blanket. It was just taking space. It was time to get rid of it.
C2 gave the blanket to a thrift shop near him hoping it would find a new home. A few days later C2 saw the blanket in the garbage by the thrift shop. He felt a little bummed when he realized his blanket wasn't good enough for the thrift shop.
A few days after that, while C2 was out for a walk, he saw that someone homeless had claimed his blanket.
The husband got rid of some of his old belongings. The experience made him a little blue. He had pictures of many of his old coworkers, grade and high school memorabilia, files, books. So many things. He could look at each thing and almost convince himself that it may be meaningful one day. Then he tempered that with the reality-- he hasn't looked in the boxes in years-- he hasn't kept touch with many of the people in decades.
I struggle with that as well. While I'm pretty good with keeping my physical property in check, I may be a digital hoarder. I have so many files that just maybe useful one day.
As a teenager, I listened in aww to CD's. They were so clear. So perfect. Such an improvement over tapes and records.
Now streaming is here. I can call up most any song, at any time. It will be played with perfect clarity.
My mother-in-law gifted the husband her record collection. The husband bought a record player.
I resisted at first, but there is something goofy and fun about listening to vinyl.
There should be no reason for vinyl. I live in a world where I can just say "Hey Siri, play "Come Fly With Me." and instantly listen to the best possible recording of that song.
Vinyl is work. You have to have that album, get the album out, blow the dust off, take the old record off the player, put on the new and let down the needle. Only then you get to listen.
Vinyl is also a commitment. With streaming you can stop or skip any song at any time. With a record player, you must get up, go to the machine and lift the needle.
And yet vinyl is charming. The extra work involved encourages us to be more thoughtful and a little more committed to listening.
C2 and I had good conversation over dinner.
We discussed a recent Saturday night of his. A friend of his was gooning, had taken drugs but then developed a priapism. I had to ask what goonging was. Apparently I am behind the times on current gay sex lingo.
The friend managed to get a prescription to treat the priapism, but didn't want to drive to pick it up because, well, he was on drugs.
Rather than being upfront with C2, the friend invited C2 over to hang out. C2 has a crush on this man, so he said yes.
After C2 arrived, the friend told him about his predicament and asked for a drive to a late night pharmacy. C2, being the softie that he is, went along with this. The first two pharmacies did not have the proper medication. They ended up driving to the other side of the city before they found one. All of this took hours.
Lately, I've been examining my life, trying to figure out what want, what the next phase will be. To inspire this, I've been contemplating the life goals of those around me. This story was my second reminder that many gay men are into partying, sex and drugs. It's an easy life
We've had a few days of snow here. It's melted away now. I'm hoping this is winter's last hurrah. It's March now, and March is the start of spring, Right?
At work, the new org is settling in. I'm getting to know everyone. I'm trying to understand their goals and how they intend to achieve them. We are taking baby steps towards working together.
Sunday, Clem and Bates hosted a small Carnival party. We had a good time. I know Clem and Bates because I used to be their neighbors. Most of the guests were-- how do I say this-- Clem and Bates are very sex positive. Most of their guests were former, or current, fuck buddies.
One of the couples discussed their glory hole and the websites they advertise on. It's a seasonal glory hole. It's outside and not insulated so they shut it down in the winter.
All but one of the guests was over 50. A few were retired. One of the discussions was about the complications of being an aging slut. When you are over 60, everyone wants you to be the daddy. When one of you is 60, and the other 55, do you really want to role play daddy-boy?
Afterwards the husband and I confirmed that we are happy with our closed relationship.
I'm having dinner with C2 tonight. I worry about him. He wants a boyfriend so bad, yet he seems to be going about that in all the wrong ways. I refrain from giving him advice-- he will ignore that. He enjoys discussing technical and scientific things. I enjoy his company.
It's been sunny and cold here in the Pacific North West. A coworker who moved to Seattle for the mild winters joked that he feels ripped off.
JM has passed away. I met JM when I first moved to Seattle. We had both moved to Seattle from the same area of Canada and ended up on the same hockey team.
We kept in touch even after I stopped playing hockey.
The husband met JM in the rooms of AA and briefly sponsored him. JM eventually decided that AA was not for him.
That brief story tells so much about JM.
JM died of some sort of respiratory failure, though we don't now the specifics. An autopsy is forthcoming. I'm not going to speculate until I learn back about that.
We've had a long weekend here. I've been using the time to clean up, catchup and chill. The weather here in the PNW is cool and rainy. Not conducive to hiking.
The husband and I have much travel scheduled over the next few months. Between now and July, I'll be away from home for five weeks-- working remote for some of it. Actual vacation for others.
Work is busy. I have finished my part in our annual promotions and bonus process. It's always frustrating. There is never enough money to give everyone what they deserve.
Perhaps my travel diarrhea is gone. Sometime this afternoon I noticed that I felt lighter and a little more energetic. The burn in my belly is gone. We shall see if I have any sudden compulsions to run to the bathroom.
I often claim that I need more down time. I'm trying to apply a little more discipline to what little downtime I have. It's easy to get sucked into social media, to play games or to watch some crap TV. I want to use my down time a little more intentionally. A little more journaling, reading and writing. A little more pondering, reflection and meditation.
I seem to have developed a bad habit of glancing at my phone when I experience five seconds of silence.
So tonight I've turned on the music. A pad and pen are next to me. Let's see what happens.
Damn it's hard to stay away from my phone.
