Urs Truly is sitting in an auditorium at the Paris Hotel, waiting for the lecturer (or someone like him) to commence educating me with the latest. This morning’s topics include:
Ketamine and the potential role for rapid-acting antidepressant medication
The role of inflammation in psychosis
Taming the unquiet mind: next frontiers in the treatment of OCD.
Jolly good fun!
I like learning this way; it’s good to sit among colleagues and listen to lecturers. Young doctors poo-poo this approach, arguing they can get CME online and for a fraction of the price. True, but there is no schmoozing and social interactions that way; they should know better. I don’t know if this is consciously done but the lecturers are good looking dudes in suits; they are pleasant to see as well as melodious in voice. If the lecture series is good, I will get about ratio of 80% ‘I already know this (a satisfaction of being on top of things) and 20% Hot puppies! I didn’t know that, making the trip worthwhile.
The Nevada Psychiatric Society has good content. It is also the biggest conference I’ve attended; there are over a thousand shrinks here it looks like. This is my first time here, so the lady at the registration desk attached to my ID badge a bright tag in bold letter ‘FIRST TIME ATTENDEE”. In theory this attracts members of the committee (or someone like them) to come up to me and greet me and offer me services or perhaps some after-lecture activities oh dear there goes my mind down sordid pathways. Being away at a convention does that to me. After all this is Lost Vegas.
While I am sitting in lecture hall learning things and drooling at the presenters Someone is upstairs asleep, orbiting the moons of Jupiter. This is his first real time off from work in years and I hope he will not check in with work out of guilt but enjoy himself Brother #3 told him there is a good gangster museum in town, so he may check that out. Someone states he may not gamble any. He is an excellent gambler that he allots himself so much money to spend per day, seeing this as the money he will spend for the entertainment of gambling, and when it goes, that’s the end. Good for him! He likes table games for the camaraderie. Apparently tables are scarce these days, having been replaced by video games, and what tables there are have sky-high minimums no fun in that.
Tonight we hear Diana Ross sing. I was dubious as she has to be eighty if she’s a minute and I cannot imagine she will sign well. I witness this in opera: old divas past their prime doing concerts where her aging fans adore her despite she can’t sing anymore. Perhaps it will be camp. I may have snort; some of us will need a little fortitude to sit through ‘I’m coming out’ sung off key.
I should stop scribbling and focus on the current lecture, which is about how to treat new-onset schizophrenia in adolescence, They are the most challenging types of patients, right up there with eating disorder types and thems with personality disorders. So far I haven’t heard anything I don’t already know, but I wouldn’t mind meeting up with the lecturer afterwards to discuss details. oh dear there I go again. What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas – unless you are dimwit and blog about it. Oh the embarrassment.
What’s top of my mind: A medical conference. Thursday through Saturday I attend a conference where I will powwow with my fellow wizards to learn all sorts of things. It is hosted by The Nevada Psychiatric Association, who always do a fine job getting the best speakers in on the hottest topics. I will learn a great deal and get enough credits so by the time I have to renew my license (again) I will have enough CME if asked about it.
Where I’ve been:Community theatre in Mesa. Last Sunday afternoon we saw a show about a family whose 18yo daughter died twelve years ago and they are still trying to keep her memory alive. The play was quite good. It took place almost at the same time the Super Bowl was starting; apart from Someone and I, there was a group of four women, probably friends of one of the actors. It is hard for thespians to perform to empty benches.
Where I’m going:Lost Vegas. After work Wednesday Someone picks me up and we drive to Lost Vegas for said conference. We are staying at The Paris Hotel. While I sit in lecture hall Someone will see the sights including the Oz movie at the Sphere and gamble a little. We will see Diana Ross in concert. When he proposed this my first reaction was ‘I thought she was dead”. We looked it up; she is in her 80s. Can you imagine paying up to hear an eighty-year-old woman sing?
What I’m watching:Consent form adherence. The Overlords have decreed upon pain of death (mine) do not see patients unless they sign the 2026 form. The only time I’ve been chastised by them was for seeing a few folks sans consents (that means without). Oh the horror. Besides my usual duties I have to open the chart to see if these forms are done, If not, the patient has to be called prior to their appointment to send them now or no appointment. These calls are tedious as it gets the patients complaining and bargaining to do the appointment over the phone as we are already talking (no). This will continue until March until everyone is done, only to repeat again next January.
Do you have to sign new consent forms each year?
What I’m reading: The lyre of Orpheus. No no no I said I would buy no more books until I read the ones already purchased. Fat chance of that. I was trying to describe a scene in the book to a patient the other day, which got me thinking about the book in general, which got me longing to read it again and The Kindle was right there to fulfill this longing. I started reading it and then put it down to concentrate on the tomes I am presently reading. I will read this one on holiday at month’s end. Oh, how I love me some Robertson Davies!
P.S. I didn’t connect the dots until now the classic cover for the book is modeled after the Strength card in Tarot.
What I’m listening to: Mr. Bunny. Until The Super Bowl half-time entertainment was revealed with him int it I have never heard of Mr. Bunny. The adolescent nieces rolled their eyes at my old-age ignorance. I don’t have a television, so I didn’t watch the show, but I heard the next day how wonderful it was.*. I went on The Tube of Yous to have a look-see at the fellow. He is a good looking hombre, well over four feet, with a nice voice In two weeks or so I travel to Puerto Rico; I suspect I will hear more of him there.
What I’m eating:Cloying Valentine’s Day sweeties. It seems little bowls of heart-shaped candies are everywhere these days. This year’s sweeties are hard as rocks and the writing on them is blurred. I like the red jelly-like hearts with a whisper of cinnamon. There were Hershey’s Kisses, wrapped in pink, red, and silver, but they were quickly consumed by what patients came into the office.
What sort of VD sweeties to you like?
Who needs a good slap: The last incarnation of The Receptionist. My place of employment has as much difficulty keeping receptionists as Hogwarts has with teachers for defense of the dark arts. The last one seemed to be competent and responded to needs as they arose, but she wasn’t too engaging. After what seemed only a short time, she went on leave of absence without explanation (to me anyway). I was told she would be gone for some time. Yesterday among all the positive gung-ho announcements in an all-employee email was the announcement she won’t be coming back. This didn’t surprise anyone. Perhaps she left due to a medical condition or personal issue. There is a sense she just didn’t want to work but she didn’t just quit after two week’s notice. Once again there is no receptionist and I have to do that job as well as my own. It is not difficult but extra work, creating longer work days. How the place is collecting co-pays and updating insurance is anyone’s guess.
On my 1-5 scale, I give her one slap
Who gets a fist bump: Spo-fans and blogger buddies, who made 8 February a special day for me. You are all dears – and not just for this! 😘
What I’m planning:A proper vacation. After the medical conference my thoughts and energy turns to the annual winter holiday, which isn’t in Palm Springs this year (worse luck) but Puerto Rico. On the positive, I won’t be doing my usual Julie McCoy role; that’s for DougT who will be there already. I get to show up with some Spo-shirts and a few books. Lovely.
What’s making me smile: Planks. Urs Truly is trying to flatten his stomach (again) but this time I’ve succeeded in at least doing some front and/or side planks on a near daily basis for twelve months. I can now do front planks for a minute and a half; I can feel the abdominal muscles are stronger. This hasn’t translated much into a flat stomach, but I can smile a little at my perseverance and improvements.
Still, I’m not taking my shirt off in public any time soon.
*The notable exception was The Felon, who ranted in his usual bad writing how awful the show was. I wonder if he actually watched it.
#66. Which photograph(s) will you treasure forever?
First, I want to thank everyone who left congratulations and thank yous on yesterday’s feast day of the blog’s nativity. It was beyond wonderful. I am going to put it in the category ‘Best of Spo-reflections’, because of the comments, so whenever I am in The Doldrums and need cheering up, I can pull them up and read them. You are a dear – and not just for this! 😘 Spo
Goodness gracious, what does one write after yesterday’s entry? Something safe and structured, that’s what. #66 of the ’99 questions’ category makes it 2/3 through. Good for us!
The photographs I most treasure are all in frames, standing on various surfaces throughout La Casa de Spo, and not in my phone or laptop, which gives me the challenge how can I adequately describe them. Not well, I suspect. I fear I would not do them justice, so I will dodge a specific list of favorite photos and Spo-reflect on photos in general.
I have a lot of photos in my laptop from various trips and holidays, all labeled in folders with helpful titles like “Ottawa 2015′ for easy access, but I never look at them. It seems silly; isn’t the point of taking photos is to look at them? The photos of friends and relations in the picture frames seem to greet me as I walk into the room. As I type this, I see a photo on the dresser of Someone and I standing in pool with three chums. It was taken on a holiday maybe 25 years ago. In the home office hang photos of some of my ancestors: my great-grandparents; my great aunt; my great-great-aunt – can you imagine? They haven’t aged but I have; by now I am older than most of them in the photos.
When Father died we had the painful task of going through his photos, some go back to the late 50s. His whole life was there. There were pictures from my his wedding, my brothers as babies, and Urs Truly at 1yo. There were a lot of photos of people, probably relations, we couldn’t identify. My father and grandparents probably figured the folks in the photos would be easily recognized – which was true for them, but within one or two generations they become strangers.**. What to do with these photos? Most were thrown out, which felt like a sin. These long gone people existed only in photographs, and now they are gone as well; they have ceased to be even a memory.
An interesting phenomena is happening as I age: I am taking hardly any photos. In a situation where everyone is whipping out their cellphones to record videos or take photos, I try my darnedest to lay down memories of the experience. Perhaps my way doesn’t work as well as someone who takes photos? I wonder, isn’t it better to savor the moment for all its worth, even when you know a year from now only a bit will be recalled?
I suppose I have to pick at least one photo to show, one I treasure, so here it is:
This was taken at the bottom of the pool at Big Ruby’s maybe from the late 90s, I don’t quite remember. It is the most odd-ball photo of myself I have. It reminds me of happy times in Key West, Florida, with friends and Someone, back when the future was before us and Life seemed wonderful.
It is also silly as hell, which suits me fine.
**It is a reminder to always label photos of who is in the photo and where and what is happening – future generations will thank you.
I don’t know what is more astonishing, that twenty years went by so quickly or I manage to keep blogging. I thought I would stop when it ceased to be fun or I ran out of ideas, but that hasn’t happened.* What started as a ‘no harm trying’ curiosity turned into a two decade-long hobby that still provides delight and meaning for me. My passion to scribble out my thoughts and/or try to be funny remains as active as ever and I hope to continue so long as The Muses (or someone like them) continues to inspire such.
The first entry, dated 8 February 2006 goes as follows:
Encouraged by a chum who writes a blog, and driven by some OCD traits to record everything, I am starting something I have never seen before – a blog. I have heard of them but as my computer skills are minimal, I have never experienced such. I feel virginal, which is a sensation I have not experienced in a very long while.For whom am I writing this blog? I am not certain. I am driven to do so – I hope this is more from The Muses and not from lack of medication.
I have no idea where it will go or what it will do or be. That sounds rather exciting.
So it begins…
The Board of Directors Here at Spo-reflections (the dears!) threw a party, which was an open house for various archetypes and cryptid types who dropped by with outstretched hands of congratulations. Pomona Catering Company provided the refreshments which included the best rats from Tewksbury (no rubbish) and curried snacks – eaten with relish. Mercifully there was no shooting.
TBDHSR did something amazing: they made me a junior board member! Hot puppies! They presented me with a new hat and a One ring to rule them all (no rubbish) band. I am still under the suzerain of The Contract of Obligation, so it is not clear what being a Junior member entails other than I can now use the inside privy.
The Board of Directors Here at Spo-reflections reached out to a few blogger buddies and asked them to write a few lines of congratulations. I do hope they were nice about it and they weren’t their usual threatening selves:
Travel Penguin: Spo is near the top of my daily blog reading list. Always well written, sometimes zany, sometimes informative, always entertaining. The BOD keeps Spo in line, and the Overlords provide plenty of blogfodder. May we live long enough and well enough to enjoy this for another 20 years. How can it be 20 years already? It seems like we started this just yesterday.
Waking up and reading Spo-reflections is like having one of my five-a-day. I couldn’t imagine starting my day without it, and the day wouldn’t feel complete without hearing what’s been happening and what happened years ago, before blogs became popular. I feel like I’m a significant part of what’s going on just by reading posts. More importantly, I feel deeply connected to the Spo-Reflections community. Whether I laugh, cry, or just smile, it’s a must-read blog. Happy 20th blogging anniversary.’
‘Waking up and reading Spo-reflections is like having one of my five-a-day. I couldn’t imagine starting my day without it, and the day wouldn’t feel complete without hearing what’s been happening and what happened years ago, before blogs became popular. I feel like I’m a significant part of what’s going on just by reading posts. More importantly, I feel deeply connected to the Spo-Reflections community. Whether I laugh, cry, or just smile, it’s a must-read blog. Happy 20th blogging anniversary.’
Waking up and reading Spo-reflections is like having one of my five-a-day. I couldn’t imagine starting my day without it, and the day wouldn’t feel complete without hearing what’s been happening and what happened years ago, before blogs became popular. I feel like I’m a significant part of what’s going on just by reading posts. More importantly, I feel deeply connected to the Spo-Reflections community. Whether I laugh, cry, or just smile, it’s a must-read blog. Happy 20th blogging anniversary.’
I have been reading your blog for so long, I truly cannot remember when I started, but it is the first blog (and you, the first blogger) that I truly became enamored with, and your loyal following (of which I am perpetually envious) introduced me to so many other wonderful blogger buddies. Your vocabulary has and continues to impress me, your words of wisdom inspire me, your humor tickles me, your charm entices me, and your moments of vulnerability touch me deeply. Despite my (at times overzealous) admiration for you and your blog, I still find you to be a kind, approachable, thoughtful, humble down to earth fella that I feel extremely lucky to have met and gotten to know over the years. I wish you the happiest of birthdays in every way I know how to say it: Feliz cumpleaños!Joyeux anniversaire! Alles Gute zum Geburtstag! Buon compleanno! I hope this year brings new adventures, many smiles, moments of laughter, oodles of camaraderie, and spans of contentment. And, were fate to be so kind, I would wish that our paths cross again in the not too distant future.
Retired in Deleware: A long time ago and a far away place (actually about sixteen years ago and in Rehoboth Beach Delaware) I happened to come across the handsome bearded visage of a blogger on my friend Wayne (“The Cajun”) Juneau’s blog. Curious and attracted as I am to bearded handsome men I clicked on the link to this mysterious man’s blog whose Mona Lisa type subtle smile seems to beckon me to enter. This was one of the best decisions of my life. Over the years I have come to appreciate this gentle, kind man who loves fine dining and sardines right out of the tin. In time I came to meet him and much to my surprise he was taller than I expected (well above four feet). I have learned much from Dr. Spo. He is a kind and patient gentleman to put up with my unique and sometimes impertinent personality. Whereas others and have dismissed me when I went onto one of my tangents, Dr. Spo has always treated me with kindness and respect which I return in full with a loving heart. Congratulations on your twentieth anniversary of your wonderful and inspiring and often funny blog postings. You have enriched my life and for that I will be forever thankful to you. God bless you.
Blobby: I’ve been lucky enough to have known Spo-Reflections since the late aughts. While I cannot be 100% certain, I do believe I came his way via Bridie (the late great woman and writer of Sterilizemusings). Spo and I both admired her so much – and was a lovely human being. Hence, I knew Dr. Spo would be too.
I have had the privilege of becoming Spo’s friend over these years – trading texts, emails and actual physical visits. My blog reading is spotty at best anymore, but Spo-Reflections gets a daily read – even should I not comment.
Who says you can’t make long-term friends over the internet. I have. We have.
Mistress Maddie: What can be said of 20 years of no rubbish?!?!?! Happy 20th Anniversary to the Spo and Board of Directors. So that makes this blog old enough to vote, drink, hire prostitutes, go to a go -go boy bar and pay taxes!!! For us, we are glad you’re
LOVE AND HUGS!
Wicked hamster: 10,000 blessings be upon Spo on the vicennalia of his mighty blog! Since I have been daily reading Spo-bits, I have experienced an enlightenment and inner peace I never thought possible. The spring has returned to my step; my dentist said my gum health has wondrously improved; I no longer care if I forget what I walked into the kitchen for; and women notice me when I walk into a room–much to the annoyance of my husband. It’s a bleedin’ miracle I tell ya.
Thank you my dears!
As Mark Twain said: I am struck speechless by these complimentary thunderbolts; never have I heard such compliments so beautifully phrased, and so well deserved. ho ho ho.
I wanted to do something special for this blog-day entry. Hugh (the dear!) suggested I reflect on some of my better entries for the more recent Spo-fans who aren’t aware of them. There is a category “Best of Spo-reflections”; Spo-fans and Droppers-by can carouse as they please. Mind! Looking back on them, I would not label many of them now as ‘best’, but I won’t change things for posterity sake. It’s OK to laugh and cringe at one’s earlier work. I went through them (twenty years worth!) and came up with my ‘best’. What I mean by best are the entries I thought were well-written, funny (still), or most thoughtful – like my men. I would be curious to hear from you what were your favorites.
To balance the universe, I thought to list the flops, the ‘what on earth was I thinking?’ entries that smelle like something they forgot to put in the tomb. Mercifully, these have been expunged. The worst one was when a theatre company contacted us if we would swap our good tickets for some in the back to oblige a bigwig. I wrote an essay about how much exhortation to ask for, perhaps a diamond as big as the Ritz. It turns out said theatre company regularly patrols the internet for derogatory comments about their establishment and their chief of police contacted Someone, who was beyond mortified by the loss of our good Henley Street name. I apologized to the theater company and took the post down. Someone still believes the company has in their databanks a big black spot that if we were ever to ask for further tickets we would be turned away or burned at the stake. Oh the embarrassment. It was a sharp lesson learned:
a) everything online is seen.
b) attempts at humor can go over like a lead balloon. Oh the horror.
I thought I would finish today’s solemnity with a photo and a video. I’ve posted a lot of photos over the years; here is my favorite.
Years ago, Ron T (the dear!) gathered some bloggers to Delaware (Land of Credit Cards) to meet up and have fun. At the dinner there were fabulous take-home prizes. I don’t recall what I received but he wrapped it in fuchsia tissue paper which he tossed at me. This photo symbolizes what the blogging community has been for me: a group of loving people, men, women, gay and straight , all well over four feet, exchanging love.
Catch the colors thrown at you and pass it on to others why dontcha.
And finally, a video of thanks:
HUGS !
*Some of The Board have the opinion I ran out of ideas years ago. Stirges.
As tomorrow is the feast day of the nativity of Charles Dickens, I would like to say something about the old boy, as it was he who inspired me to write out my thoughts and hopefully entertain folks in a serial manner.* His works go in and out of fashion and presently he is in the doghouse (or should that be the poorhouse?) not so much due to his works, but his character. Even the most diehard fans of Charlie-boy have to admit he was a louse. He was mean to his wife and contemptuous of his children – not at all the family man portrayed in his books. He is an example of The Bad Artist viz. someone who isn’t a nice person but somehow creates compassionate and incredible art, like Caravaggio or Wagner (very nasty).
I am presently rereading ‘David Copperfield’ via the podcast ‘Story time for grown ups’. Ms. Moore is doing a fine job with it, not only in her rendition of the many characters but with synopsis and analysis of what’s happening. We are at the beginning when the protagonist is a boy, suffering by his stepfather Mr. Murdstone and the man’s odious sister Miss Murdstone, two of the most awful people in literature. These chapters are painful to read; what they do to young Davey is cruel and child abuse. Some of the listeners have taken umbrage to the choice of book: why are we reading this dreadful tale? Ms. Moore points out Mr. Dickens craft as a writer is getting the reader to care about a fictional character and be upset at what is happening to him. By listening to the book this time, I am getting a lot more out of it when I read it the first time. I read it while on holiday in Key West. Mr. Dickens had a hard time keeping my attention given the circumstances, which was sipping cocktails surrounded by fine fellows well over four feet. At least I didn’t look to vacuous lying there, holding a thick tome in my lap.
What I ought to reread is “The old curiosity shop’. Some say it is not ‘essential Dickens’ but I say it is. CD put into the book his most grotesque character, Daniel Quilp, who is his Shadow self. Spoilers ahead! Mr. Quilp’s ugly end is contrasted with the death of Little Nell, one of Dicken’s ‘good women’, whose death made the public weep. Mr. Dickens is good at getting the reader to care, care about the characters and the social ills that befall them. It was this was or write non-fiction critical essays that no one would have bothered reading. Alas, Babylon! Few people are willing to read Dickens these days, other than ‘A Christmas Carol’. People find him difficult to read (true) and ‘caring for the poor’ isn’t that important anymore apparently. If he is taught in school at all, it is ‘The tale of two cities’ which is a good read but not his best.
Character aside, Charles was a compassionate writer and I am grateful for what he wrote; he has given me many a good read, some of them I reread every decade to see if I feel any different this time. I am grateful his ghost poked me in the ribs to write myself. My debut happened on 8 February, the day after his birthday. Sometimes I confuse which day I am commemorating.
The Medical Assistant has been out all week so I am ‘home alone’ today at the MESA office. It always feels odd to be the only one here. Once upon a time the place was bustling with receptionists, thems who did the billing, the bosses, the house manager, and all the counselors. But those were happier times. Nowadays everyone is somewhere else, working from home probably. I am getting good at checking in patients and scheduling their next appointment. What I am not doing is collecting their co-pay or settling overdue accounts. If folks are no longer calling to make their next appointment, who is monitoring their payments?
Tonight after work we are going to The Irish Cultural Center to see a Beckett play, I forget which one. Driving from Mesa to downtown Phoenix during rush hour is nerve-wracking and I often get to the place just in the nick of time to order a snort of Irish whisky (no rubbish) and take my seat next to Someone. Between the drive and the dram I usually fall right to sleep, so I am counting on Mr. Beckett to keep me awake. For thems unfamiliar with Mr. Beckett, he writes clever-worded plays set in absurd settings. I don’t think I am seeing the one with the actors in garbage cans. It’s not ‘Waiting for Godot’ either, worse luck. Nothing to be done.
The ice maker isn’t working. Oh the pain. I have lost count how many times the fridge has gone on the fritz. The ice maker in the door is working, and in a way I wish it wasn’t. The approach at La Casa de Spo when something breaks is not to fix it but learn to do without. If both ice makers were out, this would prompt a call to The Repairman (or someone like him); with one working I fear we will schlepp along this way. This weekend I plan to poke about to see if I can do something about the situation.
Some villain or bot texted me the other day and normally Idon’t touch these tar babies but I was in mood at the moment, itching for a fight, so I started a conversation waiting for the inevitable invitation to consider investing in crypto. I endured this tedium as I like asking what good is crypto for other than nefarious and criminal interactions? The person/droid deflected and I kept pressing the question until it got discouraged and stopped – a minor victory that cost me ten minutes. I still haven’t received a good answer from anyone on crypto, and until I do, I will keep my money invested in tulip bulbs.
What’s top of my mind: Blogday, 8 February marks twenty years of blogging, can you imagine? The Board of Directors Here at Spo-reflections (the dears!) is planning for the occasion a boisterous bacchanal with real bacchants, but what should I do for the Spo-fans and Droppers-by? I want the post to be more than a ‘my goodness where did the time go?’ entry. Come ye Muses (or someone like them) and give me some ideas, no rubbish.
Where I’ve been: Costco on a Saturday morning. Last weekend while driving to the Quick Quack car wash I realized Costco was on the way. I was out fresh out of kimchi so I thought to stop to get some. I figured it was 10AM so the place couldn’t be too bad. I was able to get in and out without ructions and mercifully there was no shooting. All the same, sooner I’d eat rats at Tewkesbury than linger too long at a Costco on a weekend. There are lots of carts bumping into each other as people diverted by the foodstuffs aren’t looking where they are going. There are many in motor carts, which seem to take up the entire aisle – and they give no warning they are coming up behind you but sort plow into you like an old-fashioned train with a cow catcher on the front to push you aside, but in their case the cows are ones driving.
Where I’m going: Nowhere for now. Which is quite all right. Next week we go to Lost Vegas and at the end of the month we go to Puerto Rico. More on these anon.
What I’m watching: The whereabouts of my work laptop. I drove to the MESA office the other day, only to realize I didn’t bring the new office laptop. Oh the horror. I am not used to schlepping it around with me. I had no choice but to head out back into rush hour traffic, meanwhile calling The Boss to explain the bungle and get her advice; should I drive to the PHX office or go home, fetch the laptop, and back to MESA? She opted the latter. It was a frazzled long day getting through rush hour traffic twice. I won’t make this mistake again.
What I’m reading: “Lords and ladies” Patience above! I am presently reading a couple of books (and few more on audiobooks) so I don’t need another, yet I started rereading a Terry Pratchett ‘Discworld’ book. What can I say? They are fun reads, and isn’t that what reading is about? It resembles someone sneaking out of a fancy dinner full of good for you food and go to the kitchen to eat the Lay’s.
What I’m listening to: Mozart KV 118. One of my Bucket List notions is to hear all of Mozart’s works. I am at #118. Up until now Herr Mozart wrote short bit things (after all, he was only ten years old for some of them). #118 is La Betulia libeta, an oratorio I reckon, about Judith in The Bible (it ends badly) The piece is 1.5 hours long. If I am to get to #626 (Requiem) I better get cracking.
What is your favorite piece by Mozart?
What I’m eating: Chili and (nasty) chips. Last week I made chili. This one had a lot of spices but wasn’t very ‘hot’ and it also didn’t have much tomato to it. Both attributes were a disappointment for me but Someone liked it a lot; he ate it with relish. The recipe called for a 1/3 cup of ground tortilla chips to give the chili some bulk and corn flavor, which it did. Rather than using a spoon, we ate the chili like salsa, dipping chips into it. I made heaps; we are still eating it.
Does your chili taste better with age? Mine usually do.
Who needs a good slap: The Paris Hotel in Lost Vegas. This month I attend a medical conference in Sin City; we will stay at The Paris Hotel. I booked the room using my work email address. I don’t get much spam via my work email, The Overlords see to that, but I am now getting frequent emails from the hotel, inviting me to upgrade and check out this place and restaurant etc. Oh the pain. I hope this nonsense ends with the conference, but I suspect not. I am going to be inundated with emails from Lost Vegas until I tell them to cease and desist.
On my 1-5 scale, I give The Paris Hotel 1 slap.
Who gets a fist-bump:Travel Penguin. For no reason other than doing random acts of kindness, Travel Penguin (the dear!) sent us a card. Written by hand it says:
Great the rising sun with the hopes of a new day, fill your day with kindness and good works.
What I’m planning: Junk removal. We regularly get business cards stuck in the front door or ads hanging like ‘do not disturb’ signs from the handle. I came home the other day to see junk piled up in the garage and I wondered when will we get around to getting rid of it, when lo! there on the door was an ad for junk men (or someone like them) to take away our rubbish. I see this as a sign from the Gods of Clean Cupboards to give them a call and get a quote and take away a much as they can carry. Part of me thinks not to tell Someone just to see if he notices.
What’s making me smile: Trap bar deadlifts. At the gym there is a device like an oblong hexagon with handles and two knobs on the outside. You put weights on either end, step inside, crouch down, and pick it all up. This is quite good for the legs and buttocks but be careful: do it properly or you will pull your back. I am finally getting the hang of it and the amount I am lifting is slowly increasing. It makes me feel quite butch. My thighs don’t seem to be growing, worse luck, but my backside is becoming firm as two unripe cantaloupes.
I saw this list on line the other day and it caught my interest enough to try it. So I did. Here are the results. Try it out yourself why dotcha, if you are ‘that way”
1] First time you knew you were different.
I drew a lot of pictures in my youth. One day – I think I was six – I started to draw in a sort of free association style various scenes of boys my age playing. As they became more boisterous and more anatomically correct I had an odd sensation something was coming out of me revealing a part of me I didn’t know was in there. It was unsettling; I felt then I had gone off course with the rest of the world into something for which I had no name. My six year old brain couldn’t put it into words but I sensed this was not only true but unalterable.
2] The moment you knew you had to monitor yourself, someone picked up a mannerism that shamed you. It was at church. The youth group was going through a box of costumes looking for props to put on a pageant, probably the nativity scene. I found a white miter, the type St. Nicholas wears in traditional prayer cards. Jolly good fun! I put it on as well as the robe to match. I came out of the closet* with a ta-da and started making up some spiel imitating Pope Innocent III or someone like him. An older girl said in a smirk “are you gay?”. My emotional reaction was shame and I stammered some weak defense of my character. I turned tail and took it off; making a note not to do that again.
3] First crush – you spoke about, someone unavailable; someone you felt everything but said nothing. In high school there was a fellow named Eric. He was my dream-man. I always tried to sit near him and engaged him and trying to get him to talk with me. I think at some level he knew I had a crush on him and he enjoyed the attention. At the end of our senior year when we were signing each other’s year book, Eric finished his entry with ‘luv – and I mean that sincerely – Eric’. Oh my goodness! I was beyond fireworks. We went to different colleges and I thought of him for awhile but then he became only a memory. A few years ago via. High School Facebook, I found and friended him. He looks to be quite happy, in a long time relationship with some fellow. I tried to rekindle some closeness, but he hasn’t shown any interest. Oh well. I don’t feel bad about this. No harm asking. On the positive, I aged better.
4] The realization that this wasn’t a phase. I knew at six years old when the penny dropped and universe went off on a different angle this was permanent and nothing was going to change it. On that scale I later hear of I was definitely in the camp with the pink tents.
5] The private search for help because you couldn’t say it out loud. I forget at what age I started going through books at the library trying to find information about what I was and what made me this way. Naturally I did this on the sly, not asking the librarian where was the section on queers. In hindsight I was looking in the wrong places. I should have been reading Gore Vidal or James Baldwin or one of that crowd.
6] The first person you told, the strange mixture of relief and fear. That would be my cousin. I remember writing Ann a letter. As I approached the mailbox to open it I paused knowing this was the point of no return. I was crossing the Rainbow Rubicon. Picking Ann was a pretty safe bet; she was being older than I and living in San Francisco in the 80s. I bet she knew a few like me.
7] The moment you realized coming out wasn’t a one time thing, it would be a daily thing for the rest of your life. Every time I came out to someone no one was aghast, not one said ‘Really! I had no idea”. Most said something along the line they knew already and were wondering when I would come clean. Was I that obvious? Did I still have on the white miter hat? Knowing this was always the response, this got easier in time. Nowadays I assume it is obvious I don’t bother telling anyone anymore. The hands and feet give it away I suppose.
#65: Tell me about a time you laughed so hard you cried.
Laughter is salubrious and sometimes a good belly laugh, one that makes your eyelashes curl, is just what the doctor ordered. Mind! These types are few and far between the usual bouts of guffaws and ho ho hos, and maybe that is a good thing. One doesn’t want to choke and wet ones drawers too often.
I am a man from the Midwest; I trained not to show much emotion, including laughter. This is no small feat to squelch, considering humans have been laughing at things (and each other) since we came down from the trees.* At an early age I realized people were laughing at me, so I figured, look, I might as well try to be funny. Despite being taught big boys and real man don’t cry (or laugh) in public I developed a keen sense of what’s funny and I let loose in public whenever I can.
With that said, I cannot remember the last time I laughed so hard I that I cried. I remember a few memorial events. Does anyone remember a British comedy trio called “The Goodies”? They were about the same time as Monty Python so they didn’t get the audience they deserved, at least not here in The States. In one of their sketches, they had different theological groups playing each other in games of football. I remember The Dominican Friars were in the playoffs against Buddhist Monks. A foul happened, and the announcer said ‘Oh oh, it looks like Brother John is about to break his Vow of Silence!”. I saw a pissed-off prior mouthing something which was bleeped out. My ten year old self found it funny enough to tear up laughing and roll on the floor, raising a ruckus Father came in from the other room to ask what was the matter. I was unable to breathe and it was hard to explain. Have you ever tried explaining to someone something you find hysterically funny? Nine times out of ten they look at you as if you’re barking mad. Sometimes I hear Someone in the other room howling at some stand up comedian he is watching. I know better not to go ask him what was so funny. Not only will I not have share the same level of intensity of the humor, he will feel not too jolly having to explain it.
Certain episodes of ‘The Three Stooges” caused me to laugh so hard that I cried. In the present, on occasions when I need cheering up, I watch “Disorder in the court” on The Tube of Yous. It still makes me laugh but no longer to the point of tears.
The first time I saw a fight between Inspector Clouseau and Cato it made me laugh to the point of tears. The movie “A shot in the dark” was one long laugh often in tears. I haven’t gone back to see it again, because I fear I won’t find it as funny or not funny at all.
In order to laugh to the point of tears again, I need to expose myself to things that might make it happen. The best bet is probably slapstick, zany, rubbish-type comedy, nothing too serious or sophisticated. Farce is what’s called for, not parody nor satire. If anyone knows of some, please send it my way along with a cream pie to the puss.
Tell me a time you laughed to the point of tears.
*One wonders if the first descent wasn’t intentional but an accident. Our primordial Adam fall flat on his face, causing thems up in the trees to look down and hoot and holler. Apparently the one who fell thought it was funny too, as he got up and didn’t crawl back up and kept walking, hopefully to find something else funny.
I found some frozen bison in the freezer the other day,* so today I make chili. Whenever I want to make some, I rummage through the recipes and settle on one of them, hoping ‘this one will be the best one yet’ and end up making it from whatever ingredients are at hand. After all chili is basically meat, beans, chili, tomatoes, and spices.** It’s sort of fun to wait the day to see how this chili turns out. Someone likes to eat his with cornbread; Urs Truly likes his with tortilla chips and grated cheese on top.
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Today is 1 February and there is a full moon. I like full moons but many do not; t think it means mass hysteria and shenanigans, more than any other time of the lunar cycle. The explanation is either the moonlight drives people to distraction or the moon’s pull on the body is at its worse (rather than the closeness of the moon). Despite studies debunking the ‘full moon ER phenomena’ , thems who believe are recalcitrant. I worked with someone who was a stance believer in this; she was also into Mercury in retrograde. Whenever we had a hectic day I would ask her if there was a full moon out or was Mercury in retrograde today (knowing full well neither was true). She was annoyed by my impudence but not enough to see daylight on the matter – or in this case moonlight. Regardless I celebrate the full moon by eating a bagel.***
Another thing I am doing today to herald the arrival of February is filling the candy bowls at home and at work with candy hearts. This year’s crop seems harder than usual and I worry if I bite down on them I will crack a tooth. Candy hearts the ones with stupid statements on them must be consumed at this time of year, like candy corn at Hallowe’en. Do not dare to question this.
This month sees two times off from work: one for a medical conference in Lost Vegas and the other a week-long holiday with chums in Puerto Rico. It will be my first vacation in twenty years in which I won’t check into work on a daily basis to renew prescriptions and put out fires. The prospect is exhilarating and unsettling.
Patience above! On 8 February Spo-reflections turns twenty, can you imagine? The Board of Directors Here at Spo-reflections asked me to write something substantial that day, no rubbish. They hinted in the last board meeting they may reach out to my fellow bloggers to get some words of congratulations or praise. I asked them not to, knowing they stop at nothing and if folks say yes, The Board is likely to return with outstretched hands asking for money. Oh the horror.
*It was frozen ground meat from bison, not an actual bison.
**I know some Spo-fans will take umbrage with this list, particularly the beans. One of my favorite chili recipes ‘Big bowl of read, is from ‘The vegetarian times’ and is sans meat (that means without). People get awfully queer about chili.
Spo-Reflections 
