Monthly Archives: July 2011

waiter… there’s a kiwi in my drink.

 I’m sitting here after dinner watching a rerun of Sex and the City on E. It’s the one where Miranda has a date with a guy that licks her ass and she’s unsure how to react. Speaking of anal licking… I had a shitty day at work. I’m pretty much sick of being nice to people to get them to buy a sofa and an accent chair. I have days like that.

When I came home I wanted to rip into several pieces of greasy Kentucky Fried Chicken, a box of chocolate truffles and half a pepperoni pizza. I was fortunate tonight. Daryl saved me from comfort food frenzy.

Sort of.

He decided to chef tonight since he was off today and he likes to reciprocate for when I cook during the week. I had some Tilapia in the freezer and he got some asparagus and rice. Daryl decided to “experiment” with our cocktails. Now don’t get me wrong, I LOVE cocktail experiments. Some of my “absolut” favorite drinks have been born completely by accident. As long as there is lots of ice and lots of Vodka, USUALLY you can’t go wrong. Right?

Earlier in the week, Daryl had brought home several kiwis (approximately 20) from a school function he had attended. Who the hell needs 20 kiwis? Anyway… he decided to try to “incorporate” some of these kiwis into our cocktails. For some reason, when Daryl bartends he likes to include fruit chunks into the beverage. I’m good with that. Texture, I like to call it. Pieces of orange or pear floating in my drink is great! It makes me feel like it’s truly GOOD for me instead of 3 million sugar calories from the mixers.

Tonight though, the kiwi drink was green. Not a pretty green. More like something you’d clean bugs off the front of your car green. He tries. He really does, and I so appreciate his misguided sense of adventure, however, this time I sipped and smiled, then sipped again as I tasted something that reminded me of… what’s the image I’m looking for… wait for it… GRASS. Yeah, grass! NOT the kind you light up either. The cocktail tasted like someone’s lawn. Daryl caught on quickly and replaced it with something orangey and fruity. Whew. Crisis averted.

Dinner was lovely.

After I cleaned up the kitchen, I decided to turn on the laptop and blog on our cocktail hour. Daryl headed to the dining room table to play some sort of supermarket game that he’s been collecting pieces for. I never do those things. I tried to do it once with some cookware “stamps” and we ended up with three sauce pans that I never use except once I used one as a hammer.

This current game is called “ACME’s Sizzlin’ Summer Giveaway!” I’m not completely sure how it works, but apparently you have to collect sets of stickers to claim over 10 million dollars in prizes and coupon offers. After a few minutes while I’m deep into Trey and Charlotte discussing the name of Trey’s penis, Daryl exclaims, “See! We are already are on the road to savings! Here is a coupon for 25 cents off for a container of cottage cheese!” He was seriously excited. I was less than thrilled. He then said that said he hopes we don’t win the backyard makeover prize, because well… we don’t have a backyard.

I got up to go the bathroom and the dining room table was covered with thousands of… okay HUNDREDS of these little sticker things… oh alright dam it there were maybe 30 stickers tops. I wonder if the contest includes a new boyfriend prize.

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all this talk about debt ceilings is making me hungry.

The roast chicken is in the oven. I prepped the 8-pound bird first by shoving a large orange with a few well-placed cloves up its ass without so much as a last name and a kiss. Ouch. Then I proceeded to forcefully thrust some fresh twigs of rosemary and sprigs of thyme up in there for good measure. Sort of had a quick flashback to an online porn movie that involved a chicken (I think) and a hand (I think) that I viewed once by mistake that was like watching a train wreck…

ANYway… I continued by cutting up half a sweet onion to line the roasting pan and I also poured about a cup of organic chicken stock in the pan for moisture. I dotted the chicken’s skin with fresh garlic, cracked pepper medley and a touch of ground sea salt. It should be done in a couple of hours. I have some fresh sweet corn on the cob and a couple of heads of fresh broccoli to steam, a few flavored martinis to shake and lo and behold, we have a great meal to celebrate our second weekly “NO TECHNOLOGY” night!

We’ve decided to have one night a week where we lock up (not literally of course) our laptop, television and while leaving the cell phones ON for emergencies, we put them DOWN on the nightstand. This was part of our “plan” to reintroduce more conversation and um… more SEX back into our growing relationship. We tried this last week after I got home from work at 9 pm., so it REALLY was only about a couple of hours of technology withdrawal, but we did fine. Tonight will be several more hours than that and I have YET to finish this blog and get to Level 34 in my “Garden of Time” game on Face Book before Daryl comes in the door!

I’ve given up cigarettes, cursing and sugar much fucking easier than this.

We have other “nights” too that we agreed are most likely necessary to increase communication and foster good will toward each other on a daily basis. For instance, last evening we had our first official “budget meeting.” We actually sat down at the dining table with cocktails in hand and discussed our budget. Lord knows we like to spend money like the political parties that we represent, but we want to find ways to do a little less spending and a lot more saving. You know… like the government. We want to find that proverbial debt ceiling. We ain’t getting’ any younger and the “R” word (retirement) really needs to take a front seat in this relationship. We even went out one night a few weeks ago as part of the process to get a “budget book” to record our daily expenditures so we could get a “snapshot” of our woefully wallet-less ways.

Now mind you, we have only been at this for a week, but I am already having misgivings about our spending habits. Maybe I should say MY spending habits. I do most of the grocery shopping as some of my earliest blogs have indicated… but how can two men require close to $300 of groceries in less than a week? We cut out sugar for Christ’s sake! We’re not eating fast food at all anymore! I shop for fresh fruits and vegetables, fresh fish and chicken, organic yogurts and snacks fill the cupboards now. We’re losing weight, but at the same time, we’re losing our cash!

Sure, I could do that “X-treme” couponing that I hear about. They even have a TV show about it I think. Some woman makes it her JOB to find out how to get two free rolls of paper towels and a dozen eggs with her grocery order. I just CAN’T bring myself to get THAT involved with coupon shopping. Daryl suggested that perhaps we eat more leftovers. I already DO that and I swore at the onset of this relationship that I’d never eat the same thing two days in a row damn it! How much more do I have to sacrifice? How much more can we take?

No wonder the government can’t get their (read: OUR) act together with this budget thing. Maybe they too should learn to eat leftovers. I’ve decided that the only ceiling I want to be aware of from now on is the one I see when I lay down on my bed to have sex during our “no tech” night.

I better go baste that chicken and mix up the cocktails before the keyboard is ripped from my clawing fingersssssss…

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the giving tree.

The cutting of the trees was the last straw. I came home yesterday to a new view.

Apparently the condo association was informed by the local electric company to remove several beautiful white pine trees from around a few of the fatigue green boxed transformers located within the development. These trees HAD to be over 50 years old I’m guessing and provided year round green and sweet summer shade. Now our building looks… what’s the word I’m looking for… STARK! Sure, I understand that the roots of the trees were more than likely cutting power unnecessarily and the branches of white pines are notorious for breaking and causing damage during wind storms, but there MUST have been another way.

There wasn’t.

I relish my shade. I crave it actually. It gives me time to stop. To think. To cherish the absent warmth of the sun. The shade even smells different. I would so enjoy walking through the shade on my way into the condo after a particularly insane day at work. I got to depend on my shade.

I took my shade for granted.

Throughout my life I have always gravitated towards shady people. Let me clarify that. I am drawn to folks that have a sense of peace… a sense of calmness that comes from within. I’m sure it’s my way of balancing out my flair for the over dramatic and emotional bursts of passion that seem to plague me from time to time. In my personal life, Daryl has certainly been a steady provider of shade that I am learning not to take for granted.

At work, however, I have lost yet another tree.

There have been many changes in personnel at the showroom I have called home for close to seven years. I have seen more people come and go than an old episode of Threes Company. In our line of work, the hours and the down time can be excruciatingly cruel. The demands of commission-based paychecks have sometimes been too much for many a struggling salesperson, and they leave or get fired. Just when I think I’m getting used to it. I’m not.

This week, a gentleman that I consider a GOOD home furnishing salesman… an HONEST salesman… a REAL person has decided to take a position in another store as a manager. He’ll be incredible at it. He has an amazing way with people. The new showroom that he is heading to is very, very fortunate. This man deserves to be successful and happy and I wish him the very best in his newest challenge.

But what about MY shade?

I still always find myself gearing up to be constantly “ON” for new and existing customers. It takes a lot of energy to remain positive when you actually feel like shoving a cocktail table where the sun don’t shine (how’s THAT for shade?). Having this man around would always somehow seem to make the day just a little easier to bear. Without him knowing it, his presence had a way of “bringing my blood pressure down.” I’ve enjoyed (and taken for granted) the company of several other trees at work too, but they seem to keep getting chopped down as well, leaving me with saplings, the occasional parasol, and a bunch of dried up weeds*.

I believe I’m selfish and I miss my shade. Hurry up and grow, sweet forest!

*Dear other people at work… this does NOT mean I consider you all dried up weeds by any means (well MOST of you anyway). It’s just a writing analogy with regard to trees and shade. Get over it.

(a favorite book of mine is Shel Silverstein’s The Giving Tree. Check it out!)

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the gift.

It’s been awhile since I’ve written. Almost too long… but the mind has settled, the heart has slowed, the breathing has grown patterned once again and the fingers want to caress the keys from the soul’s bright spirit today.

I haven’t written lately because Daryl and I have been way too busy enjoying a summer FILLED with garden parties and iced teas, late night dancing ‘til dawn, orgies loaded with lube and Liza and dinners in Paris and cocktails in Amsterdam! Who the fuck am I kidding. I had no words to share. Period.

Many things have happened in the lives of Salt n’ Peppah in the past few months. Many things. We are on a twisted but determined path of continued growth as we look forward to a future filled with trials, tribulations, more challenges and… more lube and much less Liza.

One of the changes that we are looking forward to with great anticipation, is the birth of a grandchild in February 2012 (due date of 2/29 – Leap Year and SO appropriate). Ashley and Quintin told us (and my Mom) of their impending kidlet several weeks ago via a SKYPE conversation from Queenstown, New Zealand. Looking back in retrospect, I believe Daryl and I “like-totally” squealed as if we were two 12 year old girls at a Justin Bieber concert. Like a couple of scientists, we studied a blurry black and white ultrasound that Ashley held up to the monitor while she explained technically that our grandchild currently had a tail. Once our shrieking died down to a couple of very wide grins, the kids assured us that they were holding up well and are planning on heading back home to our area of the world toward Thanksgiving of this year. Sigh.

We were THE FIRST family members that the kids shared their news with (I found out later in the conversation, that we were considered the easy “dry-run.”) and we were told specifically (read: threatened) NOT to post on Face Book or my blog until they had shared their news with other family members and several friends.

We are VERY good at keeping secrets. Daryl and I didn’t tell a SOUL that we knew that had ANY link to Face Book or a computer. We told the mailman. We told one of the Mexican landscapers (who I think believes we were asking him to turn off his weedwacker). We told a lady in the checkout line of the ACME while she was looking at a People magazine with some pregnant model on the cover, and I actually told a design customer of mine who didn’t realize I WAS married to a woman several years ago and that I had three grown children at all, as she eyed me up and down skeptically while blurting, “No effin’ way you homo.”.

Daryl is as ecstatic as a show tune writer on an episode of GLEE. He is looking forward to a grandbaby… A LOT. He has always considered my children like his own. He has followed them with me through many things in the short seven year period that he’s known them. He’s been a very active part in birthdays, graduations, family game nights, holidays, dinners as well as my son’s difficult battle with drug addiction. They find Daryl adorable, caring, comedic and a very welcome member of our ever growing dis-functionally functional family.

It’s been several locked lipped weeks of laptop keyboard silence and I’ve had plenty of time to reflect and ponder on how “I” feel about being a grandparent for the first time. The age thing doesn’t bother me. You know, that thing where we THINK we’re still in high school and we’re not old enough to be a graaaannnnd parent. Fuck off, I like my AARP membership. I was a pretty good parent when the kids were small, so having a young kid around doesn’t intimidate me at all.

This child will have parents that rival Brad and Angelina with regard to spirit, tree-hugginess, intellect, worldliness, culture and love. One recent afternoon as I was driving home from work on a beautiful back road of Chester County during an unusually striking sunset, I began to tear up out of nowhere thinking about this new life, this new child growing inside MY child! I began to get emotional…

WHAT could I even begin to offer a young child at this stage of the game? Here is one half of a hopefully maturing interracial gay couple who basically lives from paycheck to paycheck in a job that pay the bills but is in no means what I aspire to be. I hang out with my guy when our mixed up work schedules allow with NEVER a full day off together unless I call out sick or plan way in advance. I don’t travel the world. My car is not a “Beemer,” and my suits aren’t Armani. So I wondered… what CAN I offer this child…

Then today… I read with much surprise and even more humility, this dedication to me from a fellow “blogster” whom I have known briefly in blog months (we write a lot of emotional stuff, so a month in the blogosphere is like a year or two in the real world). She, like I, continues to struggle with clinical depression on occasion and she has been “pourin’ her cotton pickin’ heart out” on her blog about dealing with the blackness, the loneliness and the strangling grip that this disease can have on people.

I believe she is an incredible writer and has a way of pulling out all the stops when describing the effects that this debilitating disease can have. I commented to her that I wanted to thank her for just being who she is. I told her she is a gift. I believe she IS.

That’s when it hit me about what I can offer this newest member of my growing insanely diverse family. The gift of truth. The gift of practicing non judgement. The gift of a world with less discrimination. I can not only speak about the amazing positive impacts of diversity but I (with the help of Daryl) can actually SHOW this youngster what it means to be honest with one’s self and what it means to be real with others. To not be as concerned with whether its important to wear the right designer dress or play in the dirt with American made trucks, as much as how important is to be a good person first… to care, respect and love whomever you want, whenever you want.

I personally, cannot wait!

(Please take a few moments to read PissyKittysLitterBox blog… she really is quite talented!)

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