Musing

An NC Symphony outing with my friend Wayne

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I attended the Friday, March 7 noon performance of Rachmaninoff’s Piano Concerto #2 with my friend Wayne.

We had proper brunch cocktails, mimosas, before Bob dropped us off at the performing arts center downtown. We had seats on both sides of a couple, and they were very civil, agreeing to move over one seat so we could sit together.


Thoughts on Timepiece

On introducing the first piece, Cindy McTee‘s Timepiece, the conductor, Leonard Slatkin, called it something like, “a great piece of music, by a great composer, with a great and renowned career — and who just happens to be my wife.”

That reminded me of when I was in the closet and every time I introduced myself when public speaking, I’d be sure to mention my wife so that it was clear to everyone that I was straight. I’m not suggesting this man is gay. He is, after all, on his fourth wife. Surely he would have switched teams by now. 🐱

After that announcement, and once I cleared my head of words and phrases like “nepotism,” “conflict of interest,”, and “you got some cojones, bro” I opened my mind to the music.

It was a rather short piece, I think he said it was going to be 6 minutes. Words like, “choppiness,” “syncopation,” and “cacophony” came to mind while listening, and I thought, “I wonder if this is Eastern European music.” (As it turned out, the composer studied at the Academy of Music in Kraków and one of her teachers was Krzysztof Penderecki.)

A lot and unusual percussion instrumentation is going on here. I wonder what that instrument is called that sounds like a zipper. Wayne used the word “ratchet” for it, and I thought he was kidding. I mentioned that it reminded me of those washboards on Hee Haw. Turns out we were both onto something — internet to the rescue: here is the list of percussion instrumentation in the piece:

That clopping sound, which I now know comes from “wood blocks,” reminds me of the Sleigh Ride song.

Thoughts on Rachmaninoff’s Piano Concerto #2

I had initially thought, “I’m surprised the piano is way in the back of the orchestra when it’s going to be so prominent in the piano concerto,” but in the short break between the first and second piece, they rolled out a gorgeous Steinway front and center.

That dress! The soloist, Olga Kern, had this dress on that reminded me of tiers on wedding cakes or something. It looked something like this but all white and without the picnic basket.

She slouches, is hunched over, actually, when she plays — which made me think of Schroeder’s playing.


And then I thought of our UPS driver, Marie, who has the best posture in the world. Every time she drives by with that open doorway on those brown UPS trucks, we see her sitting upright and toward the front of her seat.

When Olga’s fingers were flying over the keys at one point, I thought about how piano playing has an end game, specifically with regards to arthritis of the hands and fingers.

In the middle of the second movement, I thought, “I can’t believe I did not pee after those 3 mimosas and before this performance started. Oh, boy.”

Wayne and I mused over what the actual performer titles were, specifically with regards to the best players in the string section — was it “first chair,” or “principal chair,” or “principal violinist (or viola or cellist, etc.)” or something else. The internet to the rescue again: looks like: principal, associate principal, and assistant principal, which sounds similar to the hierarchy of college professors.

That conductor looks like Andy Rooney — or Leslie Jordan — and like he has kyphosis.

That cymbal player just stood up, buttoned the bottom button of his jacket, picked up his cymbals, and waited. Then, without playing them, he put them down and picked up a slightly larger pair, which he did crash together one time before putting them down, unbuttoning his coat, and sitting back down.

It made me think that if he got paid by the note, he’d be broke. And that reminded me of Barbra’s classic spiel in her backyard concert for which the tickets were $5000 a piece, and during which she mused for 25 seconds about how much that was per note:

Wayne and I had a delightful walk home after a quick stop at Sir Walter Coffee to ostensibly have a cup of coffee but to furtively used the restroom, avoiding the long restroom lines at the venue after the concert. Lots of bladders needed to be emptied before getting on the vans back to the retirement homes and assisted living facilities.

We felt blessed with beautiful weather and to be able to make the 2-mile walk back to our house. Thanks for a swell time, Wayne.

Coda

If you’ve never seen this 2.5-minute scene from The Seven Year Itch, which Bob just introduced me to and is an homage to Piano Concerto #2, enjoy “Good Old Rachmaninoff“:

Head shots

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We recently went through our old passports and driver’s licenses, and Bob took my 3 old passport photos and made refrigerator magnets out of them. He did the same with 2 of his old passport photos and one old college picture. Be afraid. Be very afraid.

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Delving into somnifacients

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I’ve been toying with the idea of getting some gummies that help you fall and stay asleep, or help you get back to sleep if you do wake up during the night. I took the plunge earlier this week.

More than one friend recommended the Modern Apothēca in North Raleigh. It was a little tricky to find (just inside 540 up Falls of Neuse Road), but it’s a cute little place and it has a “coffee shop” next door. The name of the coffee shop is an indication of their advertising “voice.”

Its full name is The Burnt Pot: Cannabis Cafe & Lounge, which is described as: “One of the nation’s first hemp lounges and cafes. We provide a private space for the social and recreational enjoyment of legal hemp products.” They also sell “infused beverages and baked goods” there.

After entering the main door of Modern Apothēca, there’s another door into the sales area, where you’re greeted by someone who, if you tell them it’s your first time there, explains how they’re able to sell what they sell, and why they can’t sell the things they can’t sell.

I explained that I was a “first time user” and what I was trying to “accomplish” with gummies, which was not to get high, but as a relaxant toward a restful night’s sleep.

The salesguy was very knowledgeable, personable, and patient explaining what the various combination of “ingredients” (i.e., CBD, CBN, & THC) are and what they do. I ended up going with Tillmans Tranquils Perfect Dose Night Gummies, and I got a free sample of Comfortably Numb whose name sounds exactly like something I could use to get through the next four years.

And here’s the ad card, on which their advertisement voice is evident again in their daily delivery cutoff information.

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Above her paygrade…

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Overheard dollar store employee annoyed with two guys who are there to presumably fix a broken freezer and asking her to empty it first:

“I ain’t doing that. They’re only paying me $14 an hour even after being here 8 years. That’s not enough money to do that kind of work.”

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Classically confused…

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Don’t you hate it when you tune into the afternoon opera program on your favorite classical station, and you’re waiting and waiting for the first person to sing at the beginning of an act, but the music goes on and on without it happening? I know I do.

It goes on longer, and you start rolling your eyes in annoyance, then start harrumphing in disbelief that an intro could go on so long — all before realizing they’re airing a ballet today and not an opera.

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Snow throwers

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As he is wont to do, Bob shoveled the snow from our driveway and walkways.

While he was out there, Tom — a friend and neighbor — walked by, and he said to Bob, “I knew you’d be out here shoveling your driveway. We Ohio-Michigan folks always do that. I shoveled mine, and Scott shoveled his.”

Tom and Scott are from Ohio, and Bob is from Michigan.

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Workout Buddies or Husbands?

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There was a pre-metrosexual-era internet “street quiz” called “Gay or Eurotrash?” It presented a picture of a “stylish” guy, and you had to guess whether he was gay or “just European.” It was all tongue-in-cheek, but funny. At least the first 20 times “playing.”

I’ve been thinking about that quiz the past couple of days at Planet Fitness, where I’ve seen several pairs of guys at various times on various days working out together—a few of which seemed just a little too “stylish” (think those very short workout shorts with the slits up the sides) or a little too “well groomed” (think highly coiffed hair with lots of products in it) or standing just a little too “close” for spotting.

They’ve made me think of a variation on that game that I’d call “Workout Buddies or Husbands?”

Workout Buddies or Husbands
Workout Buddies or Husbands

Workout Buddies or Husbands
Workout Buddies or Husbands

Workout Buddies or Husbands
Workout Buddies or Husbands

Workout Buddies or Husbands
Workout Buddies or Husbands

Workout Buddies or Husbands
Workout Buddies or Husbands

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She gets by with a little help from her friends

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This cracked me up listening to WCPE (TheClassicalStation.org), where it’s usually:

“And that piece was by Franz Schubert, performed by the Rembrandt Trio,” or

“We just enjoyed Mozart’s String Quartet No. 22 in B Flat, performed by the Shanghai Quartet,” or

“That was Brahms’s Academic Festival Overture, Op. 80, performed by the Houston Symphony.”

But just now, listening while doing my stretching and strengthening exercises:

“That delightful piece was Bach’s Violin Concerto #2 in E, performed by Janine Jansen and a group of her friends.”

I’ve never heard the performers described so casually like that. It probably didn’t help that I’ve never heard of (the apparently renowned) Janine Jansen, so it came across to me like some folks got together with some woman in her garage and pounded out a few numbers. 😂

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This one’s a 𝘸𝘩𝘰𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘳—on more levels than one

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We have a primary card on which we charge almost everything we buy or pay for each month to get points. We pay it off monthly, as we do with our other 2 cards that always have only minimal charges on them.

Our average monthly bill is $3600, but this month’s is a whopper. But no matter, it’ll be paid in full on the due date. But as you can see, if it wasn’t paid in full, the credit card company would enjoy an absolute windfall on our interest.


Kudos to them for showing you the real effect of compound interest. Not-so-much-kudos to them for the disingenuous use of the word “Savings” in the 3-year info. At the very least, the word savings should be in quotation marks.

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There’s nothing fishy about it… he’s a keeper

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I don’t like salmon, and Bob only cooks it when I’m not home—usually when I’m away for a few days or so—so he doesn’t have to listen to my whining about how “the place smells like fish.”

But he had a hankering for some salmon patties today, and he cooked them in spite of my being here. When I didn’t smell anything after several minutes, I jokingly asked if he took our (over-the-stove, built-in) microwave out to the porch, to which he said, “Nope.”

I went outside to find it was actually the air fryer, and not on the porch, which is right outside our kitchen door, but out onto the deck and as far away from the house as possible.

I do get that he really is more than I deserve.

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Driver’s license & passport historical pictures

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Today’s file cabinet folder cleaning out included the Legal folder, where I found my old driver’s licenses and passports. I digitalized them for posterity so I can throw them away.

The progression of photos is the most interesting thing about both of them.

The driver’s licenses also chronical my address changes for the last 35 years.

Passport pictures:

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New intel after 52 years

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Today I learned that the name of the place where I lived 52 years ago actually has significance.

While my dad served a year in Okinawa, we moved off the main Marine Corps Base Camp Lejeune to one of the base’s adjunct housing areas called Tarawa Terrace during his absence from June 1973 to June 1974.

Fast forward to today, and I’m reading Flags of Our Fathers by James D. Bradley with Ron Powers, which is about the 6 men who raised the flag at Iwo Jima, and which is an upcoming book in our Mostly Social Book Club.

And lo and behold, this passage appears in a section talking about World War II: “And from the Pacific, the radio commentators had been sending stirring reports of U.S. Navy and Marine victories with names such as Midway and Tarawa.”

I had no idea there was a “Battle of Tarawa” and that’s what the Tarawa Terrace housing area was named after. Also, with regards to “Midway,” there was also a housing area, just off the base for the low-ranking enlisted soldiers’ families, called Midway Park, which I now know was named after the Battle of Midway.

As Bob would say, “I wonder what else I don’t know I don’t know.”

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Lifetime supply of scrap paper

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For a couple of hours yesterday and today, I cleaned out some file folders—2 of them the thickest ones in there, with each containing a good number of 15- to 20-year-old items. I mean is anyone ever going to want to see what my colon looked like during my 2006 colonoscopy? Or how diverse my portfolio holdings were in 2001? The 2 folders with the most crap in them were my Medical folder and my Investment folder.

Even though a lot of people who actually have descendants who are going to inherit this earth don’t seem to care about saving the planet, Bob and I (who don’t have any) still take the time to do things like using the back side of pieces of paper if unused. Both the medical and financial industries are notorious for not duplexing when printing their information. It’s mind-boggling, really.

To that end, out of the papers I’m discarding from those 2 folders alone, we have this much paper to reuse. (Ruler for scale.) We’ll use them mostly on AARP crossword puzzles & L.A. Times crossword puzzles, which we print from the web, and to print our weekly menus, which we post on our fridge.

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Beautiful day for a neighborhood walk

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It’s Bob’s and my workout day off, so we decided to take a walk to get some exercise and put an item in a neighborhood goods/foods box.

And while we were out, we walked by our friends’, Leigh & Wes’ later-this-year-to-be house to see it.

Leigh and Wes' (eventual) house

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GFiber customer service kudos

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Whenever our Google Fiber service goes out, it’s followed by an email about the credit we will receive as a result of the outage.

What I love most about this surprising and smart customer service is they do it without us having to ask for it—because I’m definitely the type of person who does go through the trouble of asking for it.

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Quick with a joke, or to light up your smoke

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Bob recently got out an old glass ashtray and put it on his nightstand intending to keep his lip balm in it.

Seeing no lip balm in it after several days, I got the idea to put something in it myself.

I went looking for what I wanted in these stores in this order:

  1. Ace Hardware (they have a small, old-fashioned candy area, oddly enough)
  2. TJMaxx (only looked there because it was next on my place to run errands)
  3. Dollar Tree (the place I really expected to find it)

With no luck in any of those places, from the Dollar Tree, I googled “Nearby old-fashioned candy stores,” and lo and behold there was one a little more than a mile from me. It’s a place I’ve never heard of:

Rocket Fizz | Soda Pop and Candy Shop

Candy store interior with items and checkout
Candy store interior with bins of candy

And finally, I found what I was looking for for Bob’s ashtray:

Bob's glass ashtray with one of those old-fashioned candy cigarettes sitting in it with the box next to it

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Priorities

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I’m hanging out downtown Raleigh, reading on the patio of my previous employer.

There’s a nearby intersection, and in the last 30 minutes, two cars—one a top-down convertible, and the other with 4 “rolled-down” windows—stopped at the intersection’s light have caught my attention. Well, one really couldn’t miss them.

Both had their music so incredibly loud, albeit with impressive sound quality, that I’m quite sure they’ve put more money into their vehicle’s sound system than into their 401(k).

Time-saving technology fail

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The guy at the convenience store checkout counter is holding an iPad in one hand, which he was looking at while waiting in line in front of me.

The cashier finishes ringing up his stuff and indicating the payment processing terminal says, “Okay, it’s ready.”

He contorts the wrist of his free hand to “tap” his Apple Watch on the machine. Doesn’t work.

He takes out his cell phone, not easily with one hand holding his iPad, opens some app, and waves the phone’s screen in front of the machine. Doesn’t work.

Completely over it (not unlike the rest of us in line), he gets out his wallet and grabs a credit card, which he then taps on the machine. Doesn’t work.

Exhaling about a quart of air as everyone in line shifts their weight to their other foot, he slides the chip-end of the card into the machine. Ding.

Thank goodness for all that “time-saving” technology! ?

ChatGPT account creation request

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On March 12-13, I tried—off and on—to create a chatGPT account, but just kept getting this message:

And I mused, “I hate messages like that. Who knows what later means? I wished they’d just let you get in some kind of queue for an account, and let you know when it’s your turn.”

Fast forward 2 days, and I tried again, and got this new message:

It’s like they heard me the other day! And there’s good news, bad news, good news. Good news: There’s a limerick in the message! Bad news: It’s awfully syncopated, and the terminal word doesn’t rhyme. Good news: Here’s my edit:

ChatGPT is the best
Whose servers have been put to the test
With so many chatting
No wonder it’s lagging
We’ll fix it soon, though, no jest!

Follow-up: A friend tried it and got this limerick:

Interesting that it changes. Not interesting that this one’s awfully syncopated, too. Of course I have an edit for this one, too, but I’m more interested in yours, if you have one.

“John needs…”

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I put “John needs” into google.com and these are the top-10 type-ahead suggested searches.

Clicking on them, what’s in brackets is where the suggested search came from.

What are the top 10 results of a “[Your name] needs” search?

Why befriend me?

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My friend asked this question on her Facebook feed and I thought it was a great one to muse about: “What would be 5-10 things you would tell prospective friends about why they’d want to befriend you?”

I’ve decided to do 6 of them—3 about why they’d want to friend me in real life and 3 about why they’d want to friend me on social media.

In real life

  1. Keeping my word—to you and to myself—is important to me.
     

  2. “Being there”—in whatever way that manifests—is important to me.
     

  3. You might have a laugh or two—or just a good time—hanging out with me.

On Facebook

  1. About 90-95% of my Facebook posts contain original content.
     

  2. I don’t allow any political discourse on my timeline. In the very few instances that I post something political, I remind people of the warning in my “Intro” section: “I delete all comments (positive or negative) on my political posts. If you have something to say about it, copy it to your own timeline and say it there.” And then I follow through with that.
     

  3. It doesn’t happen regularly, but it has happened more than once, that I get this kind of feedback from a friend, “I just wanted to say I enjoy the things you post on FaceBook. Most of the stuff on social media is just awful, but you create and share interesting things.”

What are some reasons why people would want to befriend you?

“That’s a good question!”

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Inundated by Zoom, WebEx, or BlueJeans virtual meetings, especially work-related ones that allow for Q&A time at some point—and that’s most meetings for me—I’ve been thinking a lot about this phrase: “That’s a good question!”

I might go so far as to say more often than not, the person responding to a question will say this at the beginning of their answer, and I immediately think:

  1. Is it really?
  2. How so?
  3. What exactly about it makes it good? ‘Cause I don’t see it.

Or are you just buying time while you decide:

  1. if you know the answer, or
  2. how to answer if you do, or
  3. to say, “I don’t know, but I’ll find out and get back to you.”

My personal feeling is twofold about starting the answer with that:

  1. The responder thinks it’s a good question, because it’s not one they’d thought of, or
  2. It’s just a kind of communication tic of the responder and they’ve given no actual thought as to whether it’s a good question or not.

Just to feel included, I shout this
to the screen after each response.

3 dream snippets

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Snippets of 3 dreams I had last night: abandoned in a restaurant, a milestone realization, and an abused garbage disposal.

  • Restaurant: We gave “business” last names instead of our own. “Mr. Red Hat, Mr. WakeMed, your table is ready. Please follow me.” The maître-d’-cum-waiter held 3 of those fat potato wedges in no container, just cupped in his bare left hand, and went to a table and plopped them on a diner’s plate. Talking to the diner too long, we started looking around for the empty table that he was going to seat us at, went around a corner to see if it was there, and when we came back, he’d gone back to the welcome podium at the entrance of the restaurant. Awkward.
     

  • Dorm: My dorm room was on the 9th floor, and my room was in the middle of a row of 5 rooms. Returning between classes, I opened the door and my room was completely empty, like I’d moved out. “Am I on the wrong floor? Is it the 9th floor I live on, or the 10th,” I wondered. But my key didn’t work in the middle room on the 10th floor when I tried it. Then I remembered that I’d already graduated and wasn’t in school anymore.
     

  • Kitchen: At the industrial-sized kitchen sink in a commercial establishment, I turned on the garbage disposal, which just hummed like it was trying to chew up food scraps but couldn’t. I removed the splash stopper and saw that it was filled to the point that a piece of black, fish-net-type nylon material peeked out. I pulled out 2 mesh totes and 3 small, blanket-like shawls.
     

Unlikely garbage disposal remnants

“Implicit” affirmations

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Some people might call me a Pollyanna, but I’m a little bit obsessed with—and determined to recognize—implicit affirmations in my life.

Two of them happened today, which I might only have noticed because I’m always on the lookout for them:

  1. A colleague whom I’ve worked with for well over a year now, but have never met in person, direct-chatted me at work today and the conversation went like this:

    Her: Are you in The Tower every Friday?

    Me: Every day for the last 2-3 months.

    Her: Do you want to meet in person for coffee or the beverage of your choice in the afternoon on Feb. 11? I will be next door [to the Red Hat building] for a doctor’s appointment.

    Me: Yes! And I will be getting whatever [Sir Walter Raleigh‘s] coffee is that comes with a scoop of vanilla ice cream in it!

    Her: I think they also serve liquor; that’s why I said “a beverage of your choice.”

    Me: You know me too well even though we’ve never met in person.
     

  2. A colleague whom I absolutely adore checking in:

    Her: Good morning! I was thinking about you this morning and wanted to say hi. Two things: Mark your calendar for Saturday, May 7. Unless all COVID hell breaks out again, we’re having a Derby party. Also, I want to host a retirement happy hour for you in October. So plan on that. We can discuss guest list!

    Me: Good morning! Oh, I do like the idea of a vetted retirement happy hour for my retirement!

    Her: You’re not still cruising on May 7, are you?

    Me: No, we’re back on 04/27.

    Her: You and Bob can start planning your Derby attire.

    Me: Perfect. Maybe we’ll pick up some outfits in the Mediterranean.

     

Anytime anyone initiates something with you, it’s an implicit affirmation. Life is good and my heart is full.

Prompt: Unrequited love

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Writing prompt: How do you feel when you love someone who does not love you back?

From reacting this way in high school:

“Let me play this 45 over and over and over and wallow in it: ♬ ‘I can’t live, if living is without you. I can’t live, I can’t give any more.'” ♩

To saying to myself now:

“Pick up the shattered pieces of your life and move on. Their loss.“

5 30-minute talks without notes

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These are 5 things I could talk about for 30 minutes without notes:

1) Scoring bowling manually.

This one is also on my list of “3 knowledge domains that I have that are now useless.

2) What it’s like being retired even though I’m not.

I was retired for a little over a year 7 years ago, so I have stories about all the things I didn’t get done on my retirement “to-do” list.

3) Implicit affirmations.

I like looking for these, like this one: When someone walked by me without my seeing them but still said, “Hello, John.” It would’ve been easier for them to just slip by without a greeting, but they made the effort in spite of that, so I must be important to them.

4) Writing 3 50-word stories every day for a year.

Since I actually did this in 2021, I could talk for hours about the process of writing them, the engagement with readers about them, and the sense of accomplishment of keeping your word for 365 days.

5) Having a total knee replacement.

It’d be tempting to make this a rosy 30 minutes, but the actual tl;dr is: it hurt way more, and took way longer to recover from, than I wanted it to. But 3 months post-op, I can now say sincerely that it was worth it.

Thanks for reading. What are some of yours?

We’re ALL growing up fast…

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Where does the time go? According to the Steve Miller Band, “Time keeps on slippin’ slippin’ slippin’… into the future.”

I hear parents comment all the time about how fast their kids are growing up. Newsflash: You’re “growing up fast,” too.

And all of a sudden, you’re on your way to the senior center for your SHIIP appointment to learn all about Medicare—like Bob and I did today—and thinking, “How the hell did this happen?”

And a quick PSA, there are some things you need to do in advance of turning 65 that nobody’s going to tell you about or remind you to do, like:

  • The initial enrollment period (IEP) includes the three months before and after your 65th birthday as well as your birthday month.
  • If you don’t get Part B when you’re first eligible, your monthly premium may go up 10% for each 12-month period you could’ve had Part B, but didn’t sign up. And this is a penalty each year for life. Don’t be that person.

Produce Project haul

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We’ve been a member of the Produce Project since April 7, 2021, which we joined shortly after having 3 out of 4 bad experiences with the Misfits Market produce service.

We really wanted to like Misfits Market, but 3 out of 4 of our orders got “derailed,” not arriving on the day promised and once not having everything in it that we’d chosen. In their defense, they were very apologetic and gave us refunds, but it’s important to us (for planning purposes) that we get things “on schedule,” which is why we switched to the Produce Project, a local service.

This was last Wednesday’s “haul,” and it’s exciting because it contains some turnips (which I’d been hoping for) along with carrots (which we usually get), and which steamed and mashed together is one of those things that my mom made growing up that I think we were the only two in the family who liked. It was a Thanksgiving staple, and Bob’s going to make some for us some time this week. I don’t think he’s ever had them together, so it’ll be an adventure for him.

organic baby spinach, mango, grape tomatoes, radishes, green peppers, apples, tomato, turnips, asparagus, yellow squash, zucchini, carrots, cucumbers, jalapeno, parsley, green onion, ginger root

3 unrelatable-to-me things people say

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There are some things that people say that are completely unrelatable to me, and I wonder if people say them just because they’ve heard other people say them for time immemorial.

Here are 3 examples of them:

“I’m too tired to fall asleep.” What does that even mean? I love to sleep. I sometimes feel very tired. But, I’ve never felt anything that I’d even be tempted to describe as “too tired to sleep.” “I can’t sleep.” Yes, that I’ve felt, but it’s almost always because I can’t stop thinking about all kinds of ridiculous things.

“My muscles are in knots.” I’ve had spasms. I’ve had numbness. I’ve had aches. But a knot? Is that even physically possible? And what pushes something beyond a spasm, numbness, or an ache—all the way to a knot?

“My character decided to do something completely unexpected.” Successful writers love to say this in interviews. When I was younger, I wrote 9 chapters of a novel and not once did my characters “do” or “decide” anything that I didn’t write on the page. In fact, I abandoned my novel because I couldn’t figure out a good way to get my protagonist pregnant, and she sure as hell didn’t step up—expectedly or unexpectedly—to show me.

Cleaning cloths for eyeglasses

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On an episode of A&E’s Hoarders, a man whose interior walls weren’t even accessible due to boxes and just plain crap piled high along them was asked by the intervention team as they held up three stud finders the man wouldn’t let go of, “How many stud finders do you need?” And looking at the team like it was the most absurd question he’d ever heard, he said, “Three.”

Fast forward to the here and now and our house. Feeling like we had a plethora of them, I decided to gather all of the cleaning cloths for eyeglasses that we have in the drawers of our two desks, a kitchen drawer, a bathroom drawer, and on nightstands and end tables in various rooms around the house to see exactly how many we “need.”

Apparently the answer is 19.

With all that said, the one that Bob and I both find the most effective, which is to say it actually cleans the lens as opposed to just smearing whatever’s on them all around, is the Norwex Supersoft Microfiber Optic Scarf.

We love a good happy hour

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Bob and I are huge fans of happy hours, and weather permitting, we sit on our front-porch rocking chairs and enjoy one.

We sometimes remark on passersby, and sometimes the remarks are a little snarky. Or, they’re about who doesn’t appear to see the fire hydrant that they’re illegally parked in front of or the “No parking this side” sign that’s literally beside their parked car. It’s no wonder we drink.

In addition to snark, our happy hours always involve what we refer to as “nibblies,” and truth be told, nibblies often turn into dinner. They usually comprise some variety of crackers with some variety of cheese, some veggies to assuage the calorie-count guilt, and something salty, which is a hard requirement for me with a highball.

We usually drink the same highball —a “bourbon and soda”—mine with ginger-flavored seltzer water and Bob’s with unflavored seltzer water, and both with Canadian Club, which is technically a blended whisky and not a bourbon. So sue us.

Some not atypical nibblies

Ritz crackers; carrots, cucumbers, and ranch dip; sweet gherkins and black, green, and Kalamta olives; ham salad and Swiss cheese; and some peanut-butter-stuffed pretzels

God, no! I hate kids!

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I’ve been viewing the PostSecret website for many years now. There’s usually at least one that either “speaks to me,” or is super compelling, or just makes me think about something in a different or interesting way.

The one in this week’s collection that speaks to me, or that I can most relate to, was:

When my students' parents ask me if I have any children of my own, I have to remind myself not to blurt out "God no! I hate kids!"

If you’re not familiar with PostSecret, it’s “an ongoing community mail art project, created by Frank Warren in 2005, in which people mail their secrets anonymously on a homemade postcard. Selected secrets are then posted on the PostSecret website every Sunday, or used for PostSecret’s books or museum exhibits.”

I’ll get verklempt…

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Our upcoming cruise, still on as of this post, is one of Seth Rudetsky’s Big Fat Broadway Cruises (SRBFBC). “Seth is an American musician, actor, writer, and radio host. He currently is the host of Seth’s Big Fat Broadway and Seth Speaks on Sirius/XM Satellite Radio’s On Broadway. The show focuses on Rudetsky’s knowledge of Broadway theatre history and trivia.”

Bob and I are huge Seth fans, and we went on his Southern Caribbean SRBFBC back in March of 2019. Seth, his husband James, and 4 Broadway stars provide the entertainment each night on the cruise. (It’s nightly entertainment for his group only, separate from the ship’s regular entertainment.)

It’s no surprise that as a “Broadway guy” (and a gay man) Seth is a huge Barbra Streisand fan (as are we), and one of our favorite things he does is called a “deconstruction,” where he analyzes (he’s brilliant musically) a song by playing it and pointing out different musical aspects and quirks and brilliance of various parts of it.

And of all of his deconstructions, the one he does of two of Barbra’s versions of Stoney End is arguably our favorite.

When this upcoming cruise was originally rescheduled to April of 2022, I had posted this on Seth’s Facebook page:

On April 24, it’s one of our days “at sea,” and it’s Barbra’s 80th birthday. It would make my and my husband’s life to see you deconstruct a Barbra song for the entertainment that night! ❤

to which he answered, “Remind me of this as it gets closer to our trip.” I just did. We’ll see if he responds this time.

While we’re waiting, treat yourself to his deconstruction of Stoney End:

Seth deconstructing Barbra’s Stoney End

An easy-on-the-eyes eye doctor

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I had a 7:40AM appointment for my annual eye exam. Each year when I see this doctor, he takes my breath away. So devastatingly gorgeous. He sits very close to me, as he does every patient, for the tests he is performing. I find the entire experience so homoerotic.

His face is on the other side of some contraption that is currently covering my eyes. He points to his left cheek and says, “Look here at my cheek.” I’m thinking, You don’t have to tell me to look at you. Then, “Okay, up here at my forehead.” Too late; I’m already looking there. I’m looking at every inch of you. Following your every move. Look at those lips.

I imagine for a moment that there is no machine between us, and the proximity of our faces is exquisitely realized—and magnetically charged—for me. His lips are so close to mine. His thick, brown, trimmed beard and greenish-gray eyes right before me. He re-adjusts the machine now and pulls his chair up closer. Now my knees are together, and his are spread open and the outside of my knees touch the inside of his. Electric. No detectable awareness on his part.

That feeling comes over me that there is no doubt that being gay is biological. My body is responding chemically. He has no clue that he’s having this effect on me, and seems like the type that isn’t aware that he most likely has this effect on most women. Which makes him even more magnetic.

Look into my eyes. Yes!

He is asking me how bad I want this stye on my eye to go away. And then says, “For me, apply this ointment…” and I’m thinking, I’d do anything for you. “Give me five minutes with a hot compress on it two to three times a day…” he goes on. You can have five hours, five days, five lifetimes.

I start to feel like Fanny Brice and Rose Morgan. “Nicky Arnstein, Nicky Arnstein, Nicky Arnstein.” I want a mirror with two faces in it—his and mine.

Paying my bill, I eye the huge family portrait above the desk on the back wall. Seven kids. He’s so virile.

Hey Mr. Arnstein, here I am.