It’s just SO hard.

I honestly didn’t think it would be this hard.

If I had a quarter for every time I’ve heard that… I’d have a dime.

Seriously though, today I “deactivated” my Face Book account. It had become part of my daily (mostly morning) ritual.

Keurig on.
Lamp on.
Laptop on.
Face Book on.
Click, click, space bar, click…

Checking overnight status updates from West Coast friends while I slumbered during the night and then touching base with regular “morning folks” over a cup of hot java while watching the sun rise or rain fall outside the sliding glass door of my flat.

I would always try to locate an inspirational quote or photo to start the day. Perhaps listing my plans for one of my two days off during the week, or what I was prepping to chef for dinner for Daryl and I that evening. I enjoyed playing keyboard exhibitionist. I guess I felt like there were people out there who actually enjoyed my life’s quirks, words, and moments. I kind of cared about theirs… sometimes, quite deeply.

I think I became a “LIKE” whore as well. Photos of Daryl and I out enjoying wonderful meals, movies and get togethers that would solicit comments and likes as if we were Hollywood celebrities. Perhaps it was the addiction of seeing positive reactions to the updates. Maybe it was simply a way to push good energy easily from the comfort of my couch.

I sometimes struggle to remember what I actually DID before my morning Face Book ritual and more urgently important… What do I do now? My fingers need that QWERTY interaction. My mind still needs to spill its unorganized and frantic thoughts onto the light of my laptop screen to eventually be exposed to the internet world.

I’ll blog again, like I did a year or so ago.

Hang on… Here goes…

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!)

we’re leaving Candyland.

Daryl and I love testing the bounds of our relationship, so we have decided we’re going to attempt to give up sugar. Or at a minimum, reduce the intake of sweetness into our diet. We’re waving goodbye to “Gumdrop Mountains,” “Lollypop Woods” and “Peppermint Stick Forest.”

It sort of started as we finished up a 24 ounce bag of multi-colored marshmallow circus peanuts the other night while watching a rerun of the GLEE episode entitled “Funeral.” I turned to Daryl and loudly declared, “No more sugar will be allowed in this home!” in a voice that sounded like Columbus shouting “Land HO!” upon seeing the shoreline of America for the first time. Daryl looked up from a bag of Twizzlers like a dog that just got caught eating a stuffed chair, nodded and proceeded to quietly seal the bag. I’m still not sure if it was out of respect to my latest declaration, or just out of plain fear.

Having near perfect communication techniques, we paused the DVR and briefly discussed this newest lifestyle change as we jointly decided that our goal will to become more AWARE of the processed sugar in our daily diet in an attempt to alter our snacking habits as well as the actual snacks that we consume in the smorgasbord of our condo that we call the coffee table.

I gazed wistfully at the pretty blue bag of “Family Size” Herr’s potato chips, a 2 pound zip lock bag of Twizzlers, the empty Circus Peanuts bag and a half eaten container of Pumpkin Seeds strewn all over our round coffee table. I decided that I needed to take dramatic and drastic action immediately so I tossed all of the snacks into the trash (well… immediately after Daryl left the room). I truly value the honesty in our relationship, so I also covered the discarded snacks with a few AARP mailings I received earlier in the week just in case Daryl decided to throw something out later in the evening. I was not in the mood for him chastising me for throwing away perfectly good food. I did realize later that some of the snacks tossed were already sugar free, but when I get overly dramatic I don’t think properly.

I must admit, however, that I always feel a little proud when we make a joint decision to choose a lifestyle change for the better. We did it with quitting smoking a year or so ago, so a sugar free diet should be a piece of cake!

The challenge continues.

While out with some of our health-conscious friends at a recent Sunday evening happy hour while enjoying my second “punch-a-tini,” I solicited suggestions for low or no sugar snack-like alternatives. Some of the standard (albeit caring) responses included yogurt, fruit, granola and rice cakes. Perhaps Daryl and I should move to southern California, break out the Rit dye and some rubber bands and tie-dye our wardrobe as well? I feel like we’d be impersonating that health food guy who used to be on TV in the 70’s wearing flannel shirts while munching on a piece of wheat who touted eating whole grain cereals by plucking the product directly from a sun strewn meadow with birds flying around his head. I read that he actually died of heart failure a few years after that, which brings up a point of doubt and contention.

What if we actually eat healthier to live longer, but we die early anyway?

What if our last meal before we get hit by a bus should consist of a dry turkey burger (without the bun), spinach salad and a few legumes thrown in for digestive purposes, when it COULD have been a trip to Five Guys Burgers with a stop at Dairy Queen for a shake? I guess like everything else in life, we’ll have to learn balance and moderation.

Sigh.

The stress of all this eating healthy may kill me first. The stress of shopping for healthier items might kill me as well. Who truly has the time to spend reading every label for sugar, fat, sodium and caloric content at the grocery store? I’m suggesting a personal shopper. Have the Super Market chains take all those extra text-manic teen “baggers” and turn them into something truly productive, right?  I’d imagine that you’d enter the store and you’d have a choice to pick a trained personal shopper who would accompany you and assist in selecting food items for you depending on your particular diet or requirement. Need low sodium items? You chose Sally Saltfree. Perhaps you’re on a low cholesterol diet? Ask for Bernie Bypass. Need to shop strictly to lose weight? Miss Anita Waist is your gal!

I digress.

Daryl and I will give this latest health conscious decision a go. We really enjoy testing the bounds of our relationship with healthier choices, however, I shall miss it when Daryl uses Twizzlers to spell out “I love you!” on the counter as a romantic snack. I hope I can truly get over the fact that a pack or two of “Smarties” really DON’T make me smarter, and I plan to avoid Ben and Jerry like the plague that they are. I’m still stumped by trying to figure out which soda mixers to use for our cocktails, but perhaps we’ll just go directly to doing straight shots.

Hopefully, our relationship will survive this denial of the sweet tooth. Last evening, while watching TV, we made snacks (that honestly looked like something the cat threw up) in our matching “HIS” and “HIS” ice cream bowls of Chobani Greek yogurt with fresh strawberries, blueberries and granola. I looked at Daryl and sighed, “See? This is pretty good isn’t it?” to which Daryl grinned and replied, “Especially with the sugar I sprinkled over the strawberries first!”

Stay tuned.

addicted to this journey…

My son at the age of 23 is currently on a several month upswing in a path of addiction.

I am falling in love with him all over again as we talk several times a week from his facility in Arizona. I am smart enough to know that his struggle is far from complete, but at this stage of his life he is the most lucid, the most honest and the most progressive I have seen him in years. He has no computer or way to see this rather elementary but heartfelt poem, so I shoot it out into the world, in hope that it finds it’s way to him…

this path you choose

go onward still

one step ahead

another will

the sun too bright

as sky blinds blue

clouds lead the way

to hope for you

no worry son

begin today

in ways so new

for you I pray

bring peace to heart

and solice too

dear son of mine

your soul is true

still barely lost

keep searching though

leave past behind

forgive the cost

beyond the darkness

through light of day

see hands of faith

to lead your way

push farther now

to take this ride

to make it to

the truth inside.

I have more addictions than eyelashes.

Yet another addiction…

Damn! Just when I thought I had the online porn addiction licked, I learned how to BLOG. I’m really just trading one addiction for another, but I guess it could be considered a trade UP (for the record, the porn thing is not like an “I’m drooling and touching all day” sort of addiction, it’s more of a “How do they do THAT position?” or a “Look at that ugly sofa they’re using!” sort of fascination. Hopefully, I did not leave you with un-erasable images).

I remember back in the “olden days” when AOL first came out (as did I, not long after); it was the coolest thing to enter into an online world as soon as the screeching, gurgling sound of the modem hook up was complete. I was truly captivated by the voice that said “YOU’VE GOT MAIL” and the little red flag that popped up on my mailbox. My addiction to the computer began. Chat rooms, gifs, jpegs and “LOL” were the rage! I literally learned more acronyms in a month than in my entire life. In retrospect, if I had the time I spent on AOL back, I could have actually experienced the late 80’s.

I guess I’ve always had what one therapist referred to as an “addictive personality.” I just assumed it meant that “other people would find MY personality addicting.” You know… people would HAVE to be near me to survive. I should have had him clarify.

I DO remember growing up with a fascination for Barbra Streisand and the weather (not necessarily in that order). I’d scan every PEOPLE magazine for the latest scoop on the Diva, after reading about the latest meteorological forecasts. It was a mix of obsessions that just did not bode well for a gangly, pot smoking teen just trying to fit in. I eventually got over the Streisand addiction (and the pot) as her voice cracked and her weight ballooned, however I DO have a link to her “official website” on my blog out of some sort of sick reverence to her political liberalism. As far as being mesmerized by weather, I once watched the Weather Channel for 3 hours straight during a recent blizzard without changing the channel once.

As I sit here blogging about my addiction to addictions and thinking why I am not getting out of my robe to go shower then clean off my car from a snow storm earlier in the week, I wonder why I can’t be addicted to cleaning the toilet, or the kitchen floor. How about being addicted to my job or mailing checks to charities? THESE are what I would consider HEALTHY addictions.

That being said, one day soon hopefully this blogging thing will eventually simmer down like a 12 year old girl when Justin Bieber starts to sing or maybe I’ll find a new addiction like eating healthy or smiling for no reason at all, to replace the keyboard.

Stay tuned.

In the meantime, when Daryl left for work this morning, he said he “was leaving”… I dunno… three or four times before I finally got up from blogging to walk him to the door and kiss him goodbye. He’s SO annoying, but alas he is my biggest and best addiction. : )