I woke up last night, even after taking sleeping pills, but was able to go back to sleep. When of course I had a nightmare, as has happened the last couple of times. I dreamed that the Anderson Jockey Lot was closing, the land having been sold for a development project. I was down there for the last weekend with my dad. As we were walking around, we came across the owner of the flea market (who in real life I wouldn't know from Adam's housecat). He was obviously regretting his decision, and sitting on the steps of one of the buildings in full "Otis-the-town-drunk" regalia. As we went by, I stopped to speak to him, and commiserate with him on his loss. He was obviously regretting selling the land. "Greed is the road to all grief." He prophetically and mournfully intoned. On that somber note, I awoke.
As usual on Sundays at Lee and Clayton's house, I got up and we were lazy. Clayton had coffee made. I made some breakfast and cleaned up the kitchen a bit while we waited for Lee to get up.
I got to go to a new flea market! The last time I came up, I had mentioned to Lee that surely Charlotte had a decent flea market, and that I'd like to go. Lee doesn't like old stuff. He told me that there was a large one at the Metrolina Expo Center, but that it wasn't every weekend, was expensive (you have to pay admission), and was full of dealers. That pretty much quashed me. But this time, he decided to indulge me, after some begging, by taking me over to the "small, junky" flea market near their house. It turns out there is a nice-sized Barnyard flea market (there are a chain of Barnyard markets) right off South Boulevard. I was delighted!
Despite our late arrival (almost 11:30am), the place was packed. But the weather was beautiful and everyone wanted to be out in it. Almost right away, I scored. I walked up to a table with a Green Knife and Fork dinner plate. The woman wanted $5 for it, and I knew it was worth that. She was my favorite kind of seller. She knew it was something, but mainly just wanted it to go to someone who would value it, as she had had it for a long time. I told her what the pattern name was, and we talked a bit about it. She had been saving the plate for her daughter, but after packing and moving it three times, and after her daughter showing no interest at all in it, she was ready to let it go. When we got to the car, I looked up the piece and was shocked to find that the book value on it was $55!! That's quite a score.
We had a great time walking all around the flea market, looking at the people and talking. Lee and Clayton refused to let me take their picture, since they weren't fluffed and perfectly quaffed. I think even Lee had a good time, even though flea markets aren't his thing.
Afterwards we went to lunch. I wanted to go for Mexican, and had some excellent fish tacos. The tilapia in them a was fat, succulent, and perfectly prepared. Then we went to Black Lion, a store that sells designer close-outs, and one of Lee's favorite places. Lots of new stuff, but it was interesting. They did have some lithographs by a local artist I kind of liked, and I thought about buying one for the bathroom; but Lee didn't like it and I decided against it.
When we were done there, we dropped Clayton at the house for a nap, and went on to Kohl's. I had a gift card from there I got for Christmas. They don't have any pants I can wear, usually, but Justin likes it. I had thought I might get some sheets, but they had a sheet sale going on, and the shelves had been pretty much picked clean. I ended up getting some new really nice dish towels (I love them, but am too cheap to buy nice ones usually), a shirt for work, a new mat for my keyboard, and a new pepper grinder.
The grinder I have is one Michael gave me for Christmas one year, and he told me it was very expensive, but the gears seem to be going wonky and it squeaks something awful. I think I have just worn it out. I had been needing to replace it, but putting it off for sentimental reasons. The one I got is really nice if it works as well as the one that was on display. Plus it was on sale for 60% off. So that worked out. Nicely. By the time we got back, it was about 2:30 and I decided to head on home.
Russ called as I got close to the house, and asked me out to dinner. I had just been thinking it would be nice to go to dinner with someone. I got home, got cleaned up, and scampered on over to his place. We talked and visited for a bit, and then decided on Chinese buffet. I had been wanting to try the new place over on Woodruff Road. It opened in the old Bob Evan's building after they went bust. I was wondering if it would be like all the others. Boy was I wrong! In addition to the food being notably better than the other buffets in town, they had an extensive sushi selection. Most of them just have a couple of token things out, like CA roll and tuna nigiri; but this place had a sushi chef on duty who was turning out a variety of specialty maki, and offering to do custom things if there was something special we wanted. It was WELL worth the extra three bucks they charged, and Russ and I pretty much ate until we couldn't move.
We ate so much that when we got back to his place, we were too full to really visit. We just decided to go on to bed, and I went home and passed out watching Shrek.
Sunday, February 8, 2009
Saturday, February 7, 2009
A post in which I finally talk about something besides glass, Robert
The rest of the drive to Lee and Clayton's was relaxing and shorter, since I had detoured through Duncan. I had a great book on CD to listen to, and that always helps. It's called Empress Orchid, and it tells the story of the rise to power of the last Empress of China, told against the backdrop of the Imperial Chinese system that crumbled beneath her during her rein. Stories of Imperial China are fascinating to me, much as are tales of pre-revolutionary France. I love reading about the ridiculous excesses of the privileged classes, even though I know hundreds of thousands lived in grinding poverty to provide them.
When I got to the house, I went through my booty from today, as is tradition for me after a glass run. Lee and Clayton were politely and casually interested.
They then told me they had made no plans for the evening. Usually when I come up they have people in for dinner, but not tonight. Although I enjoy seeing the Charlotte folks (and had packed a party frock just in case), I was just as happy to have a relaxing evening.
Lee and I went shopping, which is what we do. We went to Southpark and walked around, basically just talking and enjoying each other's company. Lee didn't buy anything. I hadn't intended to, but I found the perfect Valentine card for my mother. She'll be here on VD, so I picked it up for her. It'll probably make her cry. It nearly made me cry in the store. But then I'm such a softy.
We ran by the grocery store on the way home to pick up a few things. Lee got a box of doughnuts for dessert tonight and breakfast in the morning. He usually eats next to nothing (that boy has diapers that he still can wear - he never gains an ounce), but he loves sweets. I think my coming is a good excuse for him to indulge a bit.
Lee made a lovely salad while Clayton finished up dinner, which was shrimp and grits. Lee is a very picky eater, and doesn't eat shrimp, so he made himself a grinder. Lee always makes wonderful salads. He's very meticulous, and takes a lot more trouble with them than I do. You can really see and taste the difference. The one he made tonight was baby spring greens and spinach with sprouts and big, decadent, out-of-season blackberries. Yummy. Made me feel a tiny bit like an empress myself ;)
After dinner, we retired to the living room for television, conversation, and doughnuts with ice cream for dessert. We watched some show on hulu that was entertaining, although I had never watched it before. And of course when it came on, we flipped over to watch Graham Norton. That is a Thing with them. They watch every Saturday.
All in all, it was a lovey, relaxing evening, and it was nice to spend some time with them.
When I got to the house, I went through my booty from today, as is tradition for me after a glass run. Lee and Clayton were politely and casually interested.
They then told me they had made no plans for the evening. Usually when I come up they have people in for dinner, but not tonight. Although I enjoy seeing the Charlotte folks (and had packed a party frock just in case), I was just as happy to have a relaxing evening.
Lee and I went shopping, which is what we do. We went to Southpark and walked around, basically just talking and enjoying each other's company. Lee didn't buy anything. I hadn't intended to, but I found the perfect Valentine card for my mother. She'll be here on VD, so I picked it up for her. It'll probably make her cry. It nearly made me cry in the store. But then I'm such a softy.
We ran by the grocery store on the way home to pick up a few things. Lee got a box of doughnuts for dessert tonight and breakfast in the morning. He usually eats next to nothing (that boy has diapers that he still can wear - he never gains an ounce), but he loves sweets. I think my coming is a good excuse for him to indulge a bit.
Lee made a lovely salad while Clayton finished up dinner, which was shrimp and grits. Lee is a very picky eater, and doesn't eat shrimp, so he made himself a grinder. Lee always makes wonderful salads. He's very meticulous, and takes a lot more trouble with them than I do. You can really see and taste the difference. The one he made tonight was baby spring greens and spinach with sprouts and big, decadent, out-of-season blackberries. Yummy. Made me feel a tiny bit like an empress myself ;)
After dinner, we retired to the living room for television, conversation, and doughnuts with ice cream for dessert. We watched some show on hulu that was entertaining, although I had never watched it before. And of course when it came on, we flipped over to watch Graham Norton. That is a Thing with them. They watch every Saturday.
All in all, it was a lovey, relaxing evening, and it was nice to spend some time with them.
A post in which I, like Douglas MacArthur, return to the Barnyard
I slept badly again last night, but got enough. I had planned this morning out so I wouldn't have to rush around, but I wanted to go by the Barnyard flea market in Duncan. I had some coffee and relaxed a minute, then made some breakkie. I did throw some clothes in a bag, but since I had done most of the stuff around the house last night, it was an easy prep this morning.
When I got to the flea market I started looking for the compote, but I was working from back to front to see what was there since I was there to enjoy myself too. I found one man that had a Dogwood plate and a Mayfair cereal bowl. He sold me the pair for $6. I found out when I looked them up that the plate alone was worth $6. The cereal bowl is apparently an unusual piece of Mayfair - book value on it is $28!! That's a deal! He told me he had a cookie jar as well, and I waited around a while for him to dig through his stuff, but it ended up he didn't have it with him.
I have also decided to get a black light. A lot of Depression Green pieces fluoresce under black light, but not all of them. If this piece did glow, that would prove definitively that it is an old piece, but because of the three colors of green, it failing to glow would not be definitive. I'm thinking about buying a new display case at this point. At the friendly antique guy's place, one of the vendors has a case lit by black light that is filled with Depression-era green pieces. It makes a pretty stunning display. I'm picturing something like that, only with a classy display case, in my green room. It would be either Fabulous, or tragically, truly tacky...
When I got to the flea market I started looking for the compote, but I was working from back to front to see what was there since I was there to enjoy myself too. I found one man that had a Dogwood plate and a Mayfair cereal bowl. He sold me the pair for $6. I found out when I looked them up that the plate alone was worth $6. The cereal bowl is apparently an unusual piece of Mayfair - book value on it is $28!! That's a deal! He told me he had a cookie jar as well, and I waited around a while for him to dig through his stuff, but it ended up he didn't have it with him.
Mayfair "Open Rose" 5" cereal bowl in pink by Hocking Glass Company, circa 1931-1937
Dogwood 8" luncheon plate in pink by MacBeth-Evans Glass Company, circa 1929-1932
I've been working this week to identify the compote I found last week, with little success. English Hobnail is apparently a difficult pattern to collect. There were three releases of the pattern during the Depression era, and a limited re-release of some pieces in the 70's. There were three colors of green, two colors of pink, and four different bases in this pattern (square, octagonal, round, and limited hexagonal) in the Depression-era issues. Additionally, it is very similar to a pattern called Miss America. Miss America was heavily reproduced in China, and it would be easy for a novice collector to mistake a real piece of EH for a reproduced piece of MA, since the EH pieces are smoother in pattern than MA. Also, there were so many pieces of EH issued that I doubt there is a complete listing in my glass book.
Initially, I was pretty sure this was the 6" honey compote. But when I found it today and measured it, it measured exactly 7 1/2". There is no 7 1/2" piece listed in the book for English Hobnail. I also had to break two rules for buying glass at a good price. I had to ask the guy if he still had it, which tipped him off that I had come back looking for the piece; and I had to measure it in front of him, showing him that I knew what I was doing. I decided that it had to be the 8" bowl, which was valued at $22. He had it priced at $20. Not a great price, especially when I wasn't sure what it was. There is an 8" compote listed for the pattern, but it's an "ivy ball" and I knew from finding pics of it online that it is actually ball shaped. Ivy apparently looked good draped down the side of it when used as a planter, hence the name. After wandering off to check the book again, and decide whether or not I was going to buy it, he sold it to me for $17. (PS - the guy selling it was HOT!) Honestly, if I didn't trust my eye, I wouldn't have bought it. But the symmetry was right, and the glass was clean and "bright" (not pebbled or clouded), which really told me it was most likely not a reproduction Chinese piece. At worst, it is a later edition actually from Westmoreland. But the book told me that Westmoreland differentiated the colors on the 70's pieces, and this piece looked like true Depression Green to me.
Help! It's the attack of the 50-foot compote! English Hobnail 8" footed bowl in green by Westmoreland Glass Company, circa 1917-1940 (approximately, for Depression-era colors), with Clayton in the background
I have also decided to get a black light. A lot of Depression Green pieces fluoresce under black light, but not all of them. If this piece did glow, that would prove definitively that it is an old piece, but because of the three colors of green, it failing to glow would not be definitive. I'm thinking about buying a new display case at this point. At the friendly antique guy's place, one of the vendors has a case lit by black light that is filled with Depression-era green pieces. It makes a pretty stunning display. I'm picturing something like that, only with a classy display case, in my green room. It would be either Fabulous, or tragically, truly tacky...
Friday, February 6, 2009
A post which has my mug, my mug my mug my mug
I was fooling around with the camera tonight, trying to show off my haircut. I was SO GLAD to get it done because I've kind of had Christopher Walken hair (which is actually kind of scary when it isn't on him) all week. Plus Russ did a really great job on it and my beard tonight. I was trying to show off his work, but the pics aren't as clear as I thought they would be. Anyway. I needed some new head shots. I wish I had taken that rag off the hook behind my head though. Of course, I also wish that I didn't look quite so much like the white Budda, but there's not much I can do about that...
A post in which I make ready to go*
I had insomnia again last night. Even after all that pizza I woke up hungry. So I had some peanuts and went back to bed after a bit, where I slept crappily. I actually dreamed about going to the flea market to buy that compote I left last weekend. Of course there was other stuff going on in the dream too, but how fucked up is that? At the end of the dream, I was eating in a restaurant at the dream flea market with two other guys who were taping a reality TV show follow-up (a "where are they now" kind of thing). One of the guys took a bite of his food and said "Call the law! This flea market has stolen my heart!" That's when the alarm went off. On a very sleepy Steve.
Today was mostly quiet at work. My boss is getting ready to go out of town again, so I had time to dig in and get a bunch of niggly little crap off my desk. I still have the reserve to do, but there is only so much of that I can do right now.
I did manage to scamper out on my lunch hour today to meet a buddy for a bit.
I thought about calling Russ to see if I had time to work out before I went to get my hairs did, but since he's working me in I decided just to go on. Traffic was really light and I got there in record time.
Russ seems to be pretty much recovered from whatever the problem was, and did a fantastic job on my hair. And on my beard, which was desperately in need of some attention. He just waves the clippers at it freehand it turns out great. If I did that I'd look like I have the mange.
I had thought we might go out to dinner, but he had a quiet evening planned with Ben, and I really needed to go home and eat leftovers anyway. Which I did, virtuously ignoring the siren song of the Chinese buffet. I decided to do some chores tonight so I didn't have so much to do when I got home from Charlotte on Sunday, so I went to the store, did some laundry, did my nails, stuff like that.
I turned on Finding Nemo while I was piddling around. I haven't seen it since I was in New York with Michael. I was reflecting on the themes of growing up, letting go, and sending the ones you love on their own way. It was an interesting choice of movie to watch while I was up there. I picked it out.
I was busy until time for bed. I did play a little mahjong, and talked to a hot guy on Bear411, but he lives in Raleigh.
Today was mostly quiet at work. My boss is getting ready to go out of town again, so I had time to dig in and get a bunch of niggly little crap off my desk. I still have the reserve to do, but there is only so much of that I can do right now.
I did manage to scamper out on my lunch hour today to meet a buddy for a bit.
I thought about calling Russ to see if I had time to work out before I went to get my hairs did, but since he's working me in I decided just to go on. Traffic was really light and I got there in record time.
Russ seems to be pretty much recovered from whatever the problem was, and did a fantastic job on my hair. And on my beard, which was desperately in need of some attention. He just waves the clippers at it freehand it turns out great. If I did that I'd look like I have the mange.
I had thought we might go out to dinner, but he had a quiet evening planned with Ben, and I really needed to go home and eat leftovers anyway. Which I did, virtuously ignoring the siren song of the Chinese buffet. I decided to do some chores tonight so I didn't have so much to do when I got home from Charlotte on Sunday, so I went to the store, did some laundry, did my nails, stuff like that.
I turned on Finding Nemo while I was piddling around. I haven't seen it since I was in New York with Michael. I was reflecting on the themes of growing up, letting go, and sending the ones you love on their own way. It was an interesting choice of movie to watch while I was up there. I picked it out.
I was busy until time for bed. I did play a little mahjong, and talked to a hot guy on Bear411, but he lives in Raleigh.
Thursday, February 5, 2009
A post in which I start the day right, anyway
I woke up this morning early, and feeling surprisingly good. I had expected to be sore, but aside from my left calf feeling like it may Charlie-horse at any moment there appears to be no fall-out.
Since I was up early, I decided to have some coffee. I love coffee on the front porch. That bit of quiet and stillness just steadies the start of the day. I wrapped up because I knew it would be cold, but I had no idea how cold. The wind was blowing too. Eventually, I just thought "You idiot! Why are you sitting out here freezing your bippy off to smoke a cancer stick when there is a nice warm house behind you? How bad do you want to die, anyway?" At that point I put out the cigarette and went inside to finish my coffee.
All was fairly normal until I got into the shower. I soaped up with the water off, as usual (to conserve). Then when I went to turn the water back on, I got nothing but a sickening crunch. The universal handle on my shower had broken. Again. This is the third one of these little fuckers I've had to buy since I moved into this house. That sounds OK (I've been in the house 12 years this September) until you think about the fact that my grandfather still has the original metal handles on his shower. His house is about 60 years old. Apparently I'm not the only one having this problem. The first one I got I had to go to a plumber's supply store to find, but I noticed the last time that they had them in stock at Homo Depot. There must be a demand. But I digress.
In the meantime, I'm standing here covered in soap suds, vaguely thinking "What the hell do I do NOW?" Fortunately, I keep some tools in the house. Since this has happened several times before, I am familiar with the mechanism. So I went slippy-slidey-slimy out to the utility room, retrieved the tool box, and extracted some tools. I pried the broken handle off and used pliers to turn the water back on so I could get rinsed off. I figured I'd be making a trip to the hardware store tonight.
When I got to work, still in a surprisingly good mood, I had an emergency email in my in-box from my boss. A $1.6million account filed bankruptcy last night. An account that had been lying to us about their financial state and had just done a press conference on January 19 to brag about the success of their superior business model. Yep, that's a real pisser. Of course we had a conference call with the attorney today, etc etc. In reality though, there really isn't a whole lot you can do when someone files bankruptcy. Still, when the company loses big bucks they like to see some kerfuffle, be it productive or not. So I participated in the 20 minute conference call in which the attorney told them there was little we could do (which of course I could have told them for free), and then spent a good amount of time trashing the ex-customer with my boss afterwards. He seemed to feel better. That, along with a tutorial on bankruptcy I did for our collections manager and credit review supervisor, ate up a good amount of time today.
I hit the gym after work again, and yay me. Writing about how uncomfortable I was seems to have lanced the boil, and it was much easier today. Blessedly, there was no one else in the locker room when I arrived and I changed in privacy. Also, I knew I could do the whole 15 minutes of cardio, so I wasn't worried about collapsing in a gasping heap on the floor. I recognized one of the girls from yesterday and actually talked to her a bit while we puffed. Jock-boy didn't jump up on the machine beside me today, so I was less intimidated. Captain Younganhot apparently works out every day. But with his shirt on covering up his great torso, he looks pretty ordinary. He does have a fantastic ass though I have to say. His face is nice enough. But since I didn't have to appear naked in front of him I felt much more equal. He has great arms too though. Of course I recognize that it is ridiculous to compare my body with someone half my age who is obviously physically fit. I only burned up 180 calories on the walker for some reason. Maybe I went slower. Anyway when I got done, I did a couple of reps of weights on my arms and chest (shedding the dreaded man-boobs is another goal) to knock off those extra 20 calories.
I went by the hardware store to pick up the shower handle. Moen has the gall to charge $13 for a plastic shower handle. I got the cheap Chinese knock-off for $8.
I then went by Whole Foods, got two big ole pieces of pizza, and proceeded (I guess) to undo all the good I just did in the gym. But I figured it was better to exercise a bit and eat the pizza than not exercise and eat the pizza. Rationalization at work. They do have really excellent pizza though; and I'm sure all the ingredients are organic and junk. And I had to have dinner, right? I have lost major weight twice now, but of course gained it back. I seriously believe, though, that it is the all-or-nothing mindset that dooms most people's plans to lose it in the first place. My dad will go on this kick where he will eat only vegetables and water, and of course he will lose some weight, but no one can maintain that. When he starts eating other stuff again, he binges because he has craved real food so much and gains it all back. And don't even get me started on that Atkins madness. I've got varicose veins in my neck from ranting about it, and my friends are still doing it. I'll just say any diet that tells you you can't have carrots or fresh fruit, but you can stuff more carnage into your gullet, is NUTS and leave it at that. Of course the advocates say "But I can lose weight on it." Well you can lose weight on an all saccharine and chicken-shit diet too, I'm sure, but that doesn't make it healthy or advisable. But I digress.
After the pig out, I decided to get the shower fixed. Easier said than done. I discovered that my cheap knock-off shower handle was identical in every way to the real one except for the fitted threads that went over the water spindle thingy (in other words, the part that actually made it work!), which were all cock-waddled. The bottom line was that the handle would go on, but not the right way, and wouldn't turn the water off correctly. You just kinda had to guess where to stop when you turned it off. In the process of discovering this I soaked myself and half the bathroom. Resolutely, I got dressed in street clothes again, went back out, and bought the $13 Moen rip-off shower handle, came home, and fixed the shower. By the time I got done, it was after 9pm. I guess that's what I get for being cheap.
I decided to sit down and relax for just a half hour or so before I got ready for bed. Crooner alternated between trying to find some place to lie down on the desk (I was at the computer, playing a bit of mahjong matching, which is pretty restful when a cat isn't knocking stuff off the desk while you're playing) and trying to dig a tunnel to China through the bottom of the litter box. I can only assume this was his way of telling me I need to add more litter.
I finally just decided to go on to bed. I used my neti pot, then broke it putting it away. I had shards of very sharp porcelain all over the shower. Then I sliced my finger open cleaning it up, and bled all over the shards and the shower floor. Apparently this was just not an auspicious day for me to interact with water. But it was over anyway. I bandaged up and went to bed.
Since I was up early, I decided to have some coffee. I love coffee on the front porch. That bit of quiet and stillness just steadies the start of the day. I wrapped up because I knew it would be cold, but I had no idea how cold. The wind was blowing too. Eventually, I just thought "You idiot! Why are you sitting out here freezing your bippy off to smoke a cancer stick when there is a nice warm house behind you? How bad do you want to die, anyway?" At that point I put out the cigarette and went inside to finish my coffee.
All was fairly normal until I got into the shower. I soaped up with the water off, as usual (to conserve). Then when I went to turn the water back on, I got nothing but a sickening crunch. The universal handle on my shower had broken. Again. This is the third one of these little fuckers I've had to buy since I moved into this house. That sounds OK (I've been in the house 12 years this September) until you think about the fact that my grandfather still has the original metal handles on his shower. His house is about 60 years old. Apparently I'm not the only one having this problem. The first one I got I had to go to a plumber's supply store to find, but I noticed the last time that they had them in stock at Homo Depot. There must be a demand. But I digress.
In the meantime, I'm standing here covered in soap suds, vaguely thinking "What the hell do I do NOW?" Fortunately, I keep some tools in the house. Since this has happened several times before, I am familiar with the mechanism. So I went slippy-slidey-slimy out to the utility room, retrieved the tool box, and extracted some tools. I pried the broken handle off and used pliers to turn the water back on so I could get rinsed off. I figured I'd be making a trip to the hardware store tonight.
When I got to work, still in a surprisingly good mood, I had an emergency email in my in-box from my boss. A $1.6million account filed bankruptcy last night. An account that had been lying to us about their financial state and had just done a press conference on January 19 to brag about the success of their superior business model. Yep, that's a real pisser. Of course we had a conference call with the attorney today, etc etc. In reality though, there really isn't a whole lot you can do when someone files bankruptcy. Still, when the company loses big bucks they like to see some kerfuffle, be it productive or not. So I participated in the 20 minute conference call in which the attorney told them there was little we could do (which of course I could have told them for free), and then spent a good amount of time trashing the ex-customer with my boss afterwards. He seemed to feel better. That, along with a tutorial on bankruptcy I did for our collections manager and credit review supervisor, ate up a good amount of time today.
I hit the gym after work again, and yay me. Writing about how uncomfortable I was seems to have lanced the boil, and it was much easier today. Blessedly, there was no one else in the locker room when I arrived and I changed in privacy. Also, I knew I could do the whole 15 minutes of cardio, so I wasn't worried about collapsing in a gasping heap on the floor. I recognized one of the girls from yesterday and actually talked to her a bit while we puffed. Jock-boy didn't jump up on the machine beside me today, so I was less intimidated. Captain Younganhot apparently works out every day. But with his shirt on covering up his great torso, he looks pretty ordinary. He does have a fantastic ass though I have to say. His face is nice enough. But since I didn't have to appear naked in front of him I felt much more equal. He has great arms too though. Of course I recognize that it is ridiculous to compare my body with someone half my age who is obviously physically fit. I only burned up 180 calories on the walker for some reason. Maybe I went slower. Anyway when I got done, I did a couple of reps of weights on my arms and chest (shedding the dreaded man-boobs is another goal) to knock off those extra 20 calories.
I went by the hardware store to pick up the shower handle. Moen has the gall to charge $13 for a plastic shower handle. I got the cheap Chinese knock-off for $8.
I then went by Whole Foods, got two big ole pieces of pizza, and proceeded (I guess) to undo all the good I just did in the gym. But I figured it was better to exercise a bit and eat the pizza than not exercise and eat the pizza. Rationalization at work. They do have really excellent pizza though; and I'm sure all the ingredients are organic and junk. And I had to have dinner, right? I have lost major weight twice now, but of course gained it back. I seriously believe, though, that it is the all-or-nothing mindset that dooms most people's plans to lose it in the first place. My dad will go on this kick where he will eat only vegetables and water, and of course he will lose some weight, but no one can maintain that. When he starts eating other stuff again, he binges because he has craved real food so much and gains it all back. And don't even get me started on that Atkins madness. I've got varicose veins in my neck from ranting about it, and my friends are still doing it. I'll just say any diet that tells you you can't have carrots or fresh fruit, but you can stuff more carnage into your gullet, is NUTS and leave it at that. Of course the advocates say "But I can lose weight on it." Well you can lose weight on an all saccharine and chicken-shit diet too, I'm sure, but that doesn't make it healthy or advisable. But I digress.
After the pig out, I decided to get the shower fixed. Easier said than done. I discovered that my cheap knock-off shower handle was identical in every way to the real one except for the fitted threads that went over the water spindle thingy (in other words, the part that actually made it work!), which were all cock-waddled. The bottom line was that the handle would go on, but not the right way, and wouldn't turn the water off correctly. You just kinda had to guess where to stop when you turned it off. In the process of discovering this I soaked myself and half the bathroom. Resolutely, I got dressed in street clothes again, went back out, and bought the $13 Moen rip-off shower handle, came home, and fixed the shower. By the time I got done, it was after 9pm. I guess that's what I get for being cheap.
I decided to sit down and relax for just a half hour or so before I got ready for bed. Crooner alternated between trying to find some place to lie down on the desk (I was at the computer, playing a bit of mahjong matching, which is pretty restful when a cat isn't knocking stuff off the desk while you're playing) and trying to dig a tunnel to China through the bottom of the litter box. I can only assume this was his way of telling me I need to add more litter.
I finally just decided to go on to bed. I used my neti pot, then broke it putting it away. I had shards of very sharp porcelain all over the shower. Then I sliced my finger open cleaning it up, and bled all over the shards and the shower floor. Apparently this was just not an auspicious day for me to interact with water. But it was over anyway. I bandaged up and went to bed.
Wednesday, February 4, 2009
A post in which I finally, finally, move my Big Fat Ass
It was a relatively calm day at work, in which I got things done. I completed the weekly and two monthly presentations, and caught up the last of my call-backs.
I was supposed to get my hair did tonight, but Russ called to cancel. I am a bit worried about him. He has never done that in the many years he has cut my hair. From the way he described things he has food poisoning. Having had it myself, I know that is no fucking picnic.
Since I had absolutely nothing to do when I got home (well, nothing I was going to do anyway), I had no excuse not to go up to the gym at work. I've been putting it off, because I really hate to exercise (if it doesn't involve lifting a fork, anyway). I've told myself I'll cut down and lose a bit. I've told myself I'm just naturally big boned. But the facts remain. To be this big-boned, I'd have to be a Clydesdale.
It was worse than I thought it would be. The last time I was up there, at least there was no one else there. Since then, though, everyone has started their New Year's Resolutions.
First, there was the trauma of the locker room. For some gay guys, this is a fetish area. For me, that smell of sweat and disinfectant takes me right to my Bad Place. I hear the jeers of the guys who made my high school life hell. I automatically become gawky and awkward. Mentally, my face breaks out and my hands and feet become unmanageable. My tongue knots. I once again feel the terror of being "found out" and revealed as an impostor; along with a familiar mix of titillation, lust, and guilt. Sex is shameful again. The poise and self-confidence I have managed to build as an adult peels away like an old scab, exposing the tenderness of old self-loathing beneath. This is the realm of the physical animal. Sophistication, education, and civilization mean nothing here. This is a Lord of the Flies place.
When I walked in, there were several guys, of whom I of course was the fattest. One of them is a fetally gorgeous boy they obviously hired right out of college, and who is also obviously a gym rat. The only thing I can imagine worse than disrobing in front of a bunch of jocks is disrobing in front of a bunch of jocks that I work with and have to see every day. One guy who was in there has been a co-worker for about 15 years now. Nonetheless, I shouldered the humiliation and changed clothes.
One of the things that I hate about locker rooms is that I have never mastered the protocol. There is an acceptable back-and-forth that is supposed to go on, but there are strict guidelines about it. Small talk has never been my forte, and generally the portion of my brain that is supposed to be in charge of it is (in the locker room) spending all it's time shrieking DON'T LOOK inside my head. All that interior dialogue of course keeps me quiet, which is Wrong. I'm not participating in the camaraderie that is supposed to be predominate and effortless. Since I am uncomfortable, it makes them uncomfortable. They may not know what's wrong, but they can tell that something is off. Different. Other. That other is what betrays me. I have learned to embrace that other anywhere else in my life, but not here. One of the guys did talk to me a bit, and I managed a bit of stiff talk about business stuff, which I'm sure made me sound like a total dick, but that was just all I could manage. Never do I feel more like Jane Goodall then when I am in a locker room. I was in such a hurry to get out of there that I forgot my shoes (I packed my clothes up to carry home so I wouldn't have to go back in there), which was disproportionately embarrassing when one of the guys mentioned it to me. He was just trying to be nice, but I was mortified.
I then went into the gym, where there were many people working out, and where I was again the fattest and least-fit person. Including one woman who just gave birth like two months ago. Several of the guys in the office whom I have admired were in there. It was good to know that they at least have to work for their bodies and are not just naturally beautiful.
I picked an elliptical walker that faced the TV (but was a bit apart from the others) and started a beginner slog. Then one of the jock guys jumped on the machine beside me, and began working out. Twice as fast. Of course. My humiliation was complete. I know it isn't supposed to be a competition, but I was still having gym class PTSD. I just tried to concentrate on my own pace, and finishing the program I had put in.
I was able to finish the 15 minute beginner's routine. I left feeling wobbly, but a bit triumphant. I started thinking that really, the gym is here for guys like me. Desk jockeys who would probably not join a gym, but could use some exercise. Those others would probably have joined a gym anyway if there wasn't one in the office. At least I had Shifted My Ass. I burned 200 calories. For me, that's like the Titanic losing a deck chair. But at least I had done something. It was a start. And that'll do pig. That'll do.
I got home, and actually decided to move around a bit since I figured when I sat down it was all over. I did some laundry and had a diet dinner. I watched a bit of tube and messed around on the computer a bit. Crooner continues to be unusually affectionate. Odd. I can't decide if he just feels better, if he's glad that I came back for him when I left him at the vet, if he's just bored and I'm more interesting than being in the house alone, or if it's just cold as bejeezus and he's warmer on me. It's going to get down to like 14F tonight. Brrrrr!
I was supposed to get my hair did tonight, but Russ called to cancel. I am a bit worried about him. He has never done that in the many years he has cut my hair. From the way he described things he has food poisoning. Having had it myself, I know that is no fucking picnic.
Since I had absolutely nothing to do when I got home (well, nothing I was going to do anyway), I had no excuse not to go up to the gym at work. I've been putting it off, because I really hate to exercise (if it doesn't involve lifting a fork, anyway). I've told myself I'll cut down and lose a bit. I've told myself I'm just naturally big boned. But the facts remain. To be this big-boned, I'd have to be a Clydesdale.
It was worse than I thought it would be. The last time I was up there, at least there was no one else there. Since then, though, everyone has started their New Year's Resolutions.
First, there was the trauma of the locker room. For some gay guys, this is a fetish area. For me, that smell of sweat and disinfectant takes me right to my Bad Place. I hear the jeers of the guys who made my high school life hell. I automatically become gawky and awkward. Mentally, my face breaks out and my hands and feet become unmanageable. My tongue knots. I once again feel the terror of being "found out" and revealed as an impostor; along with a familiar mix of titillation, lust, and guilt. Sex is shameful again. The poise and self-confidence I have managed to build as an adult peels away like an old scab, exposing the tenderness of old self-loathing beneath. This is the realm of the physical animal. Sophistication, education, and civilization mean nothing here. This is a Lord of the Flies place.
When I walked in, there were several guys, of whom I of course was the fattest. One of them is a fetally gorgeous boy they obviously hired right out of college, and who is also obviously a gym rat. The only thing I can imagine worse than disrobing in front of a bunch of jocks is disrobing in front of a bunch of jocks that I work with and have to see every day. One guy who was in there has been a co-worker for about 15 years now. Nonetheless, I shouldered the humiliation and changed clothes.
One of the things that I hate about locker rooms is that I have never mastered the protocol. There is an acceptable back-and-forth that is supposed to go on, but there are strict guidelines about it. Small talk has never been my forte, and generally the portion of my brain that is supposed to be in charge of it is (in the locker room) spending all it's time shrieking DON'T LOOK inside my head. All that interior dialogue of course keeps me quiet, which is Wrong. I'm not participating in the camaraderie that is supposed to be predominate and effortless. Since I am uncomfortable, it makes them uncomfortable. They may not know what's wrong, but they can tell that something is off. Different. Other. That other is what betrays me. I have learned to embrace that other anywhere else in my life, but not here. One of the guys did talk to me a bit, and I managed a bit of stiff talk about business stuff, which I'm sure made me sound like a total dick, but that was just all I could manage. Never do I feel more like Jane Goodall then when I am in a locker room. I was in such a hurry to get out of there that I forgot my shoes (I packed my clothes up to carry home so I wouldn't have to go back in there), which was disproportionately embarrassing when one of the guys mentioned it to me. He was just trying to be nice, but I was mortified.
I then went into the gym, where there were many people working out, and where I was again the fattest and least-fit person. Including one woman who just gave birth like two months ago. Several of the guys in the office whom I have admired were in there. It was good to know that they at least have to work for their bodies and are not just naturally beautiful.
I picked an elliptical walker that faced the TV (but was a bit apart from the others) and started a beginner slog. Then one of the jock guys jumped on the machine beside me, and began working out. Twice as fast. Of course. My humiliation was complete. I know it isn't supposed to be a competition, but I was still having gym class PTSD. I just tried to concentrate on my own pace, and finishing the program I had put in.
I was able to finish the 15 minute beginner's routine. I left feeling wobbly, but a bit triumphant. I started thinking that really, the gym is here for guys like me. Desk jockeys who would probably not join a gym, but could use some exercise. Those others would probably have joined a gym anyway if there wasn't one in the office. At least I had Shifted My Ass. I burned 200 calories. For me, that's like the Titanic losing a deck chair. But at least I had done something. It was a start. And that'll do pig. That'll do.
I got home, and actually decided to move around a bit since I figured when I sat down it was all over. I did some laundry and had a diet dinner. I watched a bit of tube and messed around on the computer a bit. Crooner continues to be unusually affectionate. Odd. I can't decide if he just feels better, if he's glad that I came back for him when I left him at the vet, if he's just bored and I'm more interesting than being in the house alone, or if it's just cold as bejeezus and he's warmer on me. It's going to get down to like 14F tonight. Brrrrr!
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