The Crotchety Old Man

I fully expected to get a lot of writing done over the long weekend.  With my partner being out of town and a rainy forecast, I hoped to make significant forward progress on Addicted, my first work of fiction. Unfortunately, aside from a few new posts here on the blog, I haven’t gotten any writing done. The writer’s group met yesterday and critiqued chapters twenty through twenty-three of Addicted. The regulars all agreed it was my best work to date. I was thrilled. Normally I spend the Sunday after a writer’s group meeting following through with all the suggestions they made about my manuscript. Last night it took me all of twenty minutes to make the changes they suggested. I …

My partner’s dad recently purchased a house on Panama City Beach. For the long weekend, he decided to go down for a little rest and relaxation and to check out the new digs. Mostly because my writer’s group meets today, I opted to stay home. We knew the tropical depression that would become Tropical Storm Lee was bearing down on the area. But the forecasters didn’t expect it to reach hurricane status, and they predicted it would make landfall quite a ways west of Panama City Beach. We agreed the storm was no reason for him to change plans. Normally, he’d take Tico with him. His chihuahua travels well, adores my partner, and pouts anytime he gets left behind. But …

The selection of Chaz Bono as a contestant has certainly generated a lot of buzz about the upcoming season of Dancing with the Stars. In case you’ve been sleeping under a rock, Chaz underwent female-to-male gender transition a few years ago. For the totally clueless, his parents are Sonny Bono and Cher. Conservative religious groups like One Million Moms (an affiliate of the American Family Association, identified by the Southern Poverty Law Center as a hate group) are asking like-minded thinkers(a term I use loosely here) to boycott the show. Apparently, they’re afraid that seeing a transgendered person on television will cause their child to become dissatisfied with his or her current gender. Never mind the message of intolerance the …

Over the weekend I noticed our internet connection had slowed to near dial-up speed. Dripping faucets, cabinets that won’t quite close, and cobwebs along the edge of our fourteen foot ceilings I can live with. But given the amount of time I spend online, a slow internet connection required immediate action. First I rebooted the computer. No change. Next I turned off the wireless router and again rebooted the computer. Same story.  Then I disconnected the cheap-ass cable modem we rent from the cable company for $5 a month because I keep forgetting to buy one, turned off the wireless router, and again rebooted the computer. No luck. Charter Communications is the cable monopoly in our area. Given my experience …

You hear a lot about Southern cooking. Having spent a few months in North Carolina shortly after I was born, more than three decades in Kentucky, a year and a half in Washington DC, and nearly fifteen years now in Athens, I’ve lived in the South my entire life.  I’m no expert, but I do know a few things about Southern cooking. One thing I know is that Southern cooking varies quite a lot from one place to another. Up in Lexington we ate burgoo, hot browns, and beaten biscuits with ham–dishes they’ve never even heard of down here in Athens. Unless things have changed, Lexington restaurants served unsweetened tea, even if you wanted it sweet, and barbecue was meat …

We’re used to seeing sizes shrink so the manufacturer can avoid a price increase.  A pound of coffee becomes thirteen ounces, a box contains a few ounces less cereal than before, and a half-gallon of ice cream is now only one and one-half quarts. The price stays the same, but we’re getting less for our money.  Manufacturers figure we don’t mind paying more per pound (or ounce or whatever) as long as we don’t have to pay more at the cash register.  Makes sense.  Or maybe they think we won’t notice. As a man of a certain age, I’ve adjusted to countless of these petty little changes with little more than a grunt and a shake of the head.  Yeah, …

For better or worse, the things I’ve done (both good and bad) have shaped me into the person I am today. While far from perfect, my life has turned out pretty good and certainly much better than I ever expected. In fact, those who know my story consider the fact I’m even alive today to be downright miraculous. Yes, I made a lot of poor choices and stupid mistakes. I’m a slow learner and tend to try things without bothering to research my options, read the instruction manual, or heed the advice of those who’ve gone before me. Even so, considering the way things have turned out, I have no regrets. But given the opportunity, there are a few things …

After finishing college and launching my career, retirement seemed like an impossible dream. Work was my life sentence for a frivolous youth and a mountain of credit card and student loan debt. Any money I could set aside was more likely to be needed for a casket and burial plot than a condo in a retirement community. Before I finished school, several of my employers required me to contribute to a retirement plan. I always kicked in the minimum and when I left their employment, promptly withdrew any cash I’d accumulated. In one case, I passed up a two-for-one match and in every case, I paid taxes and a ten percent penalty for taking the money out. Let’s just say …

I was thrilled on weigh-in day this week to see I’d lost another pound. My delight was short-lived. My bubble burst when I discovered my daily point allowance had dropped another point. Compared with the women I know on Weight Watchers, I can’t complain. I still get 43 points per day, plus 49 extra points every week, and whatever activity points I earn from riding my bike, walking the dogs, or mowing the yard.  The point is I still get enough points to support my ice cream habit. The general trend, however, is disturbing. When I started Weight Watchers, I got a generous 46 points every day. Yes, I’ve lost almost twenty-two pounds. But my progress has cost me three …

Today I was re-reading an e-mail I received several months back from a devout Evangelical Christian. We first met many years ago when we were both unaware of a central fact of our existence. She wasn’t yet religious and I had no idea I was gay. She is a few years older than me–a difference that doesn’t seem like much today. Back then, however, the age difference was huge. She was a college sorority girl and I was still in high school. She was a smart, sophisticated role model and a sane voice during a crazy time. While her brains impressed me the most, she was also beautiful with natural blonde hair and dazzling blue eyes. We lost touch, only …

Today I drove down to the conference center in Tifton, Georgia. The conference center is about 170 miles from my house. That means I spent seven hours in the car driving down and back. Thank God for books on CD. Upon reaching my destination, I headed straight for the bathroom. Despite having stopped in Madison and again in Perry, my need was great.  I’m sure it had nothing to do with the 20-0unce coffee I brought with me from home or the 32-ounce iced-tea I picked up in Madison. A meeting of farmer types let out just as I entered the building. When I walked into the bathroom, half a dozen dudes in Wrangler jeans and square-toed boots stood before …

Nasty characters are among the most memorable reality show cast members. Omerosa from The Apprentice, Nene Leakes from Real Housewives of Atlanta, Danielle Staub from Real Housewives of New Jersey and the entire cast of Jersey Shore (except for maybe Pauly and Vinny) are famous mostly because of their inability to get along with other people. Until this season, cooking shows have been relatively free of the nasty personalities that make other reality shows so much fun to watch. Yeah, Gordon Ramsay yells and screams a lot. But in the end, he almost always turns into a big sweetheart. Jeffrey Steingarten, the over-blown stuffed shirt judge from Iron Chef, doesn’t count. He’s a food writer, not a chef. In truth, …

Everyone has a weight above which they refuse to go. Years ago, my line in the sand was 200 pounds. Now 200 pounds is my goal weight. Funny how things change with time. Back in April I weighed 246 pounds–dangerously close to 250.  Other than shoveling too much food into my mouth, I never got any exercise. The doctor put me on two different drugs to battle sky high cholesterol. My habits were slowly but surely killing me. Something had to change. In May I started riding my bike again. Having spent the better part of the last two or three years on my ass, I lost eight pounds fairly quickly. Exercise was a good start but not the solution. …

Here in Athens, a dramatic increase in local traffic signals the end of the summer. Public schools started a week ago. College students who live off campus moved into newly rented apartments in early August. The opening of the dorms last week drew most the rest to town. Classes start tomorrow. When I was a kid, school never started before the last week of August or even into September. At least that’s what I remember. The early August end of summer leaves a lot of folks my age feeling at least a little short-changed. For students in every grade, writing an essay about summer activities was a perennial first week of school activity. Most students groaned when the teacher announced …

Yesterday I drove down to Jekyll Island for business. Today we took a break from the business for “afternoon excursions.” Instead of hooking up with coworkers from other parts of the state for networking, I decided to take a barefoot walk on the beach. Although the hotel where I’m staying is oceanfront, there’s not a lot of beach. In fact, unless you count the volleyball court, there’s really no beach at all. Walking back and forth on the volleyball court wasn’t exactly the walk on the beach I’d envisioned. I shared my disappointment with a coworker who’s familiar with the area. She told me I’d find a walkable beach about three miles down the road. I changed into swim trunks …