Spo-Reflections

Hugh (the dear!) pointed me in the right direction to reestablish a blogroll. I used to have one in a widget on the left side of the blog. WordPress removed this option, the old meanies, and I have been annoyed at the loss for some time. I see blogrolls on other blogs, many with my humble abode included. I would like to reciprocate – and now I can. It is on the pages mentioned above and not readily seen, but at least it is there. It is a work in progress; WP automatically put some links on it of people I have never heard of. Over the weekend I hope to put as many blogs as possible so if you don’t see yours, tell me that I may place it and if you don’t want yours on the blogroll I will remove it.

Poking about the pages section reminds me I haven’t updated my ‘who is Urspo’ and ‘things about me’. I look quite young in the photo. While it is a nice photo, it ain’t accurate and up to date. I need to tidy things up.

Today I am getting a fourth quarter bonus after all, about 4K gross, which is about 4K more than I was expecting. I didn’t think I had made the mark. We will use this surprise cash to pay off the auto loan. This frees up ~ $1500 per month for other things. I think The Overlords connected the dots they were giving me bonuses more than they figured and in reaction they are changing the rules this so I won’t get as much. Stirges. And they are rich as Roosevelt!

Tomorrow is our anniversary, or at least one of them. Like many male couples we have a series of ‘anniversaries’ starting with the one when we met (31 January 1997), the one when we pledged our troth on the southern tip of the big island in Hawaii, and the latest (hopefully the lastest) when we got hitched in Palm Springs (22 February 2017). After nearly thirty years we are a staid old couple and we don’t ‘celebrate’ the January anniversary per se. Indeed he will be working that day and I bet he doesn’t remember. In his defense, I have to pause to remember which day in February was our wedding day and I always ne ed to look up the year it happened. In my defense, 2005 onwards has been a blur. It’s a good thing I keep journals and write a blogotherwise I wouldn’t know when anything happened.

Did I mention I am going to try making a loaf of bread this weekend? I probably did.* I found on the Tube of Yous a recipe calling for only a few ingredients and no kneading. It promises even the worse bakers (hey! that’s me!) can do this. No harm trying. As I am avoiding carbs for now, I hope this works in a superstition sort of way to guarantee a proper loaf as I would be obliged to eat it. I bought some Irish butter (no rubbish) in hopes of having homemade bread and good-tasting spread. I cannot think of anything better. I will probably go into a glycemic index surge and coma, but it will be worth it.

That’s about all the frets and frolics for this Friday. See you around the blogroll.

*I could look back on the recent posts to ascertain such but I seldom reread my posts. When I do I see typos and sentences that could be improved and I want to keep rewriting what is already published. Oh the pain. It is best to just repeat myself and hope I am not boring the Spo-fans to death.

Here is a picture taken at the PHX office to illustrate the ongoing question what matters most: is it better to hold onto something for thrift’s sake vs replacing things for the sake of ‘looking good’. This is my wrist rest for typing on the the keyboard at the PHX office .* the wrist rest works well but it is stained, fraying, and looks worn out – like my men. This doesn’t look good for patients to see. When I see my doctors, their offices are stylish – no rubbish indeed! They don’t have any shoddy objects. There is a part of me that thinks for appearance sake I should buy a new wrist rest and a new keyboard too (mine looks quite worn). On the other hand, what I have ‘works’ and to buy more is spending money I don’t have to do. There is also the matter of polluting the planet with discards. I hear tales of youngsters buying clothes they wear only a few times and then discard them to get new things. Oh the horror.**

A fashion plate I am not. Most of my clothes get used as long as possible; they get replaced when it becomes absolutely necessary. I recently bought after who knows how long two pairs of shoes and khaki pants. I wore them to work the other day and while no ones saw them I felt like a million bucks. If Someone and I go out to the theatre or a restaurant, I make it a point to ‘dress nice’ meaning not looking like I just came back from the gym or was outside working in the yard. Still, even when ‘dressing up a bit’ I can’t be mistaken for some glamor type in what I do wear out in public.

The thrift choice reigns at home. Nearly everything at La Casa de Spo is years if not decades old, and it looks like it. Several at-home items are approaching the need to be replaced level and will be done anon. However there are a handful of items not in immediate need of replacement but it would be nice to have a new-looking replacement. Last autumn we replaced the awful looking threadbare kitchen chairs. The new ones look great and it feels good to sit in them. Their sharp looks makes the kitchen table and chandelier look even more worn and old, if that was possible.

Last weekend at the department store I found our towels, the ones I keep harping about here in the blog. They weren’t that expensive either. Alas, Babylon! They was no purchase. Someone pointed out the towels we transferred from the guest bathroom are in good condition so we don’t need new ones. I sensed this wasn’t a time to be assertive or throw a fit lest there were ructions in the middle of Macy’s. Perhaps we are too Midwestern (and cheap) to change our ways.

Truth be told if I don’t worry or think about what others may be thinking of my frayed clothing and used items I am OK. While it would be nice to have fabulous things I guess they are not necessary. I will hold onto the wrist rest for now. When in use my hand covers up the hole.

*Pay no attention to The Yule Cat asleep on my lap. It is there for size comparison and get a few ‘ahhh isn’t that sweet’ comments.

**I avoid the thrift vs. looks quandary by wearing Spo-shirts which is my style rather than either.

64. Who were the oldest people you knew growing up? What did you learn from them?

Mind! When I was smaller and people were taller I thought everyone over twenty years old was quite old. At ten years I thought my grandparents were ancient when in fact they were in their 50s or their 60s. I remember an aunt had on her bulletin board a birthday card with a little old lady in a rocking chair on the cover with the words “You are thirty”.

I have a vague memory of meeting my maternal great-grandmother who was in a wheelchair at the time. She fascinated me people could live that long. She may have been only in her 80s. My father would take me and Brother #2 to see his great-aunt Marion, who was the wife of his grandfather’s brother. Goodness knows how old she was. As she lived independently in her home she couldn’t have been too decrepit.

I can’t say I really learned anything from them. They didn’t sit me down to tell me how to get to where they were. Even if they had I probably wouldn’t have listened, being a child and therefore what they said didn’t apply to me.

Now that I am in my sixties (keep you voice down) I don’t feel old nor anything like the ersatz-ancients from my youth. I wonder of old people today ‘aren’t as old’ as previous generations. I wonder if my nephew, who is ten years old and well under four feet, thinks me as ancient as I saw my elders at his age. He certainly doesn’t ask me for advice and I doubt he would listen if I tried.

I should try to respond to the question. I learned how to relate to others at home and in public. That money and fancy things aren’t important. Try to be a good person. Tale care of others, especially the oldsters in the family. Go to funerals and write sympathy cards; what you say doesn’t matter, what is important is you showed up.

In the end what oldsters say to youngsters doesn’t really matter. What you model is what counts. As James Levine say in ‘Into the woods’:

Careful the things you say
Children will listen
Careful the things you do
Children will see and learn
Children may not obey, but children will listen
Children will look to you for which way to turn
Co learn what to be
Careful before you say “Listen to me”
Children will listen.

That’s all I got to say on the subject.

In my life I’ve been asked what was the worst thing about growing up gay: was it the bullying? the ostracism? the discrimination? team sports in gym class? They had their hurts to be sure, but the worst thing was a subtle ingrained mostly not conscious belief I am not allowed to do/have/be things. As I was light in the loafers and not a real boy/man, I didn’t deserve things. Don’t bother asking or trying. I knew I was clever enough, and I got good grades, but I didn’t have the sense I had what it takes to succeed in life.

Happily over time I smelled a rat and got over this monstrous con job. However there still is a part of me dubious to ask for things, whether another glass of iced tea in a restaurant or something major like request for help at work. I’ve learned a lesson by adopting an approach I call ‘no harm asking’ and its action counterpart: ‘no harm trying’. It can be difficult to ask for things on the anxiety one will be told no or ridiculed for even trying. In cognitive behavioral therapy, you look at the worse-case scenario and how likely this is to happen (not much) and even if the worse case-scenario happens, how bad it is really? I started overcoming my inner you don’t deserve this to try i.e. no harm asking.

It turns out asking for something nearly gets a positive response of yes, of course. I’ve learned when people are given a direct request they are anxious not to say no, even when they want to. They waffle and hesitate as they dance around a ‘no’ answer, but they are never nasty about it. I cannot remember the last time anyone was awful in their response to me asking or trying something.

The ‘no harm trying’ approach sometimes gets negative or disappointing results. After all, I am usually trying or doing something new and unknown. Even when it doesn’t work out I’ve learned something; if I decide to try again I will do better.

‘No harm asking’ and ‘no harm trying’ are almost magical; it is amazing what I get for doing this.

Almost as integral as the internalized undeserving belief is Midwestern Manners. Thems from the Midwest feel a direct blunt request is going to be deemed as rude, self-centered; you might be mistaken for someone from ‘back east’.* The solution is to smile, ask nicely, and not be a jerk about it viz. ‘someone from out east’. ho ho ho. This nearly always works well.

‘No harm trying’ and ‘no harm asking’ is not too efficacious in social situations like Palm Springs where thems who are better built/better looking/better dressed than Urs Truly are more likely to say ‘no thank you’ but not in those words. Rejection stings, when you present yourself as the ‘request’. When it happens I shrug my shoulders and say to myself ‘no harm asking’ and ‘no harm trying’ and go find people of quality rather.

When I think back on all the missed opportunities I try not to better or dwell on all the what-ifs.

And I make up for lost time.

Give ‘no harm asking’ and ‘no harm trying’ a try why dontcha.

Do you have troubles asking for things?

*Oh the horror.

Note: I am up to my oxters with matters at work so there hasn’t been time for blogging or anything else for that matter, worse luck. Here is a half-baked entry inspired by a youngster who once asked me how much of my blog is done using Chat GPT. Rather than pulverizing him with a chair, I started this entry. Spo

Before we begin, I should point out I have no idea what I am talking about.

I regularly listen to podcasts that constantly talk about Chat Gpt. By now you would think by I would understand what it is and what it does, but I don’t. Listening to the pundits on the podcasts I feel like I am overhearing a conversation at a nearby table in a diner: I am getting the words but not following the conversation.

So far as I know I have never consciously used Chat GPT. Someone states he uses it all the time, such as composing volunteer booklets and handouts, that sort of thing. After twenty years of online writing, I believe I know how to write careful prose (although typos continue to happen) and I don’t need a program to tell me how to do it. It reminds me of the time I witnessed the temerity of a ten year old trying to teach her grandmother how to cook better.

The latest news about Chat Gpt is it is going start showing advertisements. I think that would be quite annoying viz. in the middle of writing a paragraph an ad pops up for something, probably related to what is being written. As I have already mentioned, this is not my problem nor my concern.

Someone also tells me he uses Chat Gpt to write his emails. It’s a mercy I don’t write many, and when I do I subscribe to the notion to make emails simple, succinct, and to the point – like my men. I am told they seem ‘cold’ or even ‘rude’ until folks realize what I am doing. A few lines doesn’t strike me as needing Chat Gpt assistance.

Of course, I shouldn’t poo-poo something until I’ve tried it. I remember my late father turning up his nose at his first calculator, a instrument the size of a brick. He didn’t see the point of a calculator when he was a wiz with numbers. He would do his taxes first using the calculator and then afterwards checking its accuracy with his own calculations, not the other way around. Over time the calculator became less hostile (and less heavy) to the point of using one came without thought; it evolved into a ‘how on earth did we function beforehand? device.

Maybe if I tried Chat Gpt I would feel the same in time. I wonder where one goes to find it?

P.S.: I did not write this with Chat Gpt: I wrote it myself. Thems who say otherwise are itching for a fight.

Do you use Chat CPT?

What’s top of my mind:  The cold. 20 January is deemed the coldest day of the year; it is uphill to ardent temperatures to 20 July, the reported hottest day of the year, with its peak at 50C (bloody hot F). But that is six months hence and right now it is cold. The dirty secret of The American Southwest is it gets cold in January. Mind! ‘Cold’ is relative; I can see already the acrimonious comments of the Spo-fans who live in cooler climes when I tell that it gets down to near freezing at times. Few bother to turn on the heat, possibly due to not having home (or office) heating. Maybe it just feels cold because I am older. My late Father may he rest in peace at the end of this life was constantly cold; he was always wanting a fleece jacket or blanket even in summer. I am starting to feel similar. At work and at home I have space heaters going and I sleep in sweatshirts and such.

Where I’ve been: Eating alfresco. Last weekend there was a break from the cold; it was sunny and temperatures briefly got to a high of 20C (68F). This feels cold to us locals but for my visitors from Michigan it was practically summer. We went out for lunch and they wanted to eat outdoors. In the sun with their jackets off they looked as happy as two cats in a sunbeam, while Someone and I sat across from them wearing sweatshirts and jackets.

Where I’m going: Nowhere for now. My knees are being difficult, especially the right one. They feel stiff if not downright painful when I try to squat down. Oh the pain. I don’t remember injuring them so what is the matter? I try to get up from the chair and go on walks rather than succumb to not moving about. My evening walks only seem to aggravate the matter, worse luck. I may have to take Motrin (or something like it) despite the kidney functions.

Do you have stiff and/or painful knees?

What I’m watching:  When patients were last in the office for a face-to-face appointment. The Overlords reminded me the other day patients should have an in-office appointment every twelve months, and if they are taking controlled-substance type medications they are obliged to do so by the State of Arizona. I think a yearly face-to-face appointment is reasonable. I am posting in the charts ‘when they were last in’ and asking thems who haven’t been in before 2025 to make their next appointment in office. Most patients are OK with this, but a few have taking umbrage at this modest request. They state it’s inconvenient, or I’ve never been in so why do I have to do so now? Using the magic word ‘regardless’ I tell them regardless, they have to.

What I’m reading: The Potato. Eileen (the dear!) knows I like books in which the author takes a certain food-stuff and tells how it transformed the world. I’ve read such books on the topic of tea, salt, rice, cod, and red dye from The New World. Her latest book-prize is about the humble potato. I like potatoes, especially the atypical tuber-types. They come in all sorts of colors and flavors, and they are often tastier than the mundane ‘Idaho’ spuds.

What is your favorite way of having potatoes?

What I’m listening to: The eve of St. Agnes. Speak of the coldest day of the year, every 20 January I read the poem “The eve of St. Agnes’ by Keats. The story is about a young girl who goes to bed on St. Agnes Eve to dream of her true love.* In these past years I’ve been not reading it but hearing it via Audiobook (or something like it). I always fall asleep before it ends.

What I’m eating: Spicy baby food. At the mentioned luncheon I asked Brother #3’s guest what sort of food he enjoyed. He said he liked Indian the best, which he calls ‘spicy baby food’, meaning it is hot, delicious, but the consistency of porridge. True, this. Our delicious to-go Indian food comes in plastic containers the type you get at the grocery store delicatessen. It is served over rice or scooped up with bits of naan. Lovely!

Who needs a good slap: The Felon. Not a day goes by that he does something immoral and heartless, but this latest outrage, this grandiose delusion about Greenland, is lunacy. This is what happens when dark-triad types** are put in charge and no one has the guts to stand up to them and tell them what he is doing is wrong. A minor consequence of his threats is the stock market to turned south, wiping out all I gained in the past six months.

On my 1-5 scale, I give The Felon five slaps.

Who gets a fist bump:  Someone. There is nothing like gentlemen-callers to La Casa de Spo to get Someone into gear to tidy up the place. The home office looks clean and dusted, the first time in ages. Prior it looked like a thief had been in there unsuccessfully looking for something. Oh the horror.

What I’m planning: Feeding the cat. I have mixed feelings about The Yule Cat, the pussykins that comes by the office at PHX. He (it) is generally a friendly beast but when he/it play-bites it is nasty. He/it is now banned from being around patients lest he bites them. Some of the staff have been donating little tins of meat that he/it eats with relish. I recently bought some tins myself. This will assure his/its coming by, will it not. I’m turning into one of my patient types: the lonely senior who feed feral cats.

What’s making me smile: Quilting. Monday was a day off, a day I hadn’t planned to have. So what does one do with 24 hours of bonus time? I got out the quilt I started twenty years ago that I never finished. It is you basic ‘log cabin’ design, ten by ten squares with a border yet to be determined. I didn’t have a goal in mind when I started other than to say I made a quilt. It may become a bedcover for the guest bed in The Dragon Room. I am pleased as Punch for proceeding with it.

*I get no such dreams, worse luck.

**The dark-triad is a collection of narcissism, sociopathy, and Machiavellian. It is all about the person, and getting what he/she wants and will do anything to get it without caring how or who gets hurt.