Archive for the 'Me' Category

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02
Jan
12

The 12 Ways of Christmas: the cookies

By Eric 1 Comment
Categories: Food, Fun, Me, My Favorite Things, Nostalgia and The 12 Ways of Christmas
Tags: , , , ,

[Part 7]

Santa's givin' you some sugar this year!

There was nothing in particular that linked my mom’s cookies with Christmas, except that we never made them at any other time of the year. You can have eggnog in the summer, but why? Grandma could make her baked beans for Easter, but why? No, these things were for Christmas only.

I always looked forward to those rare and special nights when my mom dragged out her big electric mixer and the glass and metal bowls and wooden spoons. Soon the kitchen countertop would be covered with bags of flour and sugars, syrups, shortening, butter (it was always margarine, but we called it “butter”), eggs, nuts, sprinkles, chocolate, vials of food colorings and flavorings, shredded coconut, candied cherries. Continue reading ‘The 12 Ways of Christmas: the cookies’

13
Dec
11

The 12 Ways of Christmas: the records

By Eric Leave a Comment
Categories: Me, Nostalgia and The 12 Ways of Christmas
Tags: , ,

[Part 1]

Not long into December every year, when I was a kid, my mom and I would start digging out the Christmas albums. We’d play them on the quadraphonic sound system in the living room. (What suburban house furnished in the ’70s was complete without quadraphonic sound?)

You could set up two or three records at a time, resting on an arm that held them above the turntable. When one side ended, the tone arm would lift up and swing back to home position, a notch in the spindle would click, and the next record would drop into place. The tone arm would swing back, drop the needle into place, and new music would begin to play. It was like magic. Continue reading ‘The 12 Ways of Christmas: the records’

26
Oct
11

The Cruelest Dream

By Eric Leave a Comment
Categories: Dreams and Me

Minutes before my alarm sounded this morning, I had a dream that I was getting ready for bed.

It was a deceptively pleasant dream. I pulled back the comforter and sheets, fluffed up my pillows, snuggled in, positioned myself just so. I always sleep with one arm under my pillow. My other arm lies bent in front of me, my palm against my forehead, fingers through my hair.

I savored the coolness of the unmolested sheets against my body. When I stopped moving, I felt the covers settle like a gentle, silent, heavy snowfall as pockets of air seeped out. I was so tired. I pulled the covers tight and heaved a quiet, satisfied sigh. I was just fading off to sleep, and then…

Continue reading ‘The Cruelest Dream’

15
Sep
11

Scat cat, or every creep that creepeth

By Eric Leave a Comment
Categories: Animals, Gross, Me, My Cat and Toilet Humor

When a situation is hard to control, we say “it’s like herding cats,” because cats are bloody hard to control—especially mine. Humans, by comparison—pet owners, especially—are much easier.

However, I can happily report that I have managed a coup of animal behavior control that might make a student of Burrhus Frederic Skinner jealous.

The New Yorker published a remarkable profile of Michele Bachmann in August that delves a bit into (among a great many other things) her devotion to a political conservative Christian principle called Dominionism. It’s based on Genesis 1:26.

And God said, Let us make man in our image, after our likeness: and let them have dominion over the fish of the sea, and over the fowl of the air, and over the cattle, and over all the earth, and over every creeping thing that creepeth upon the earth.

Somehow it applies to the notion among some politically active conservative Christians that their ultimate goal is to gain control over every secular civil institution in the country through political action to create (they would say “restore”) a theocratic government run exclusively by Christians.

Makes sense as a metaphor: Control the animals, control the earth, control the system. And there are a lot of politicians who seem to creep about upon the earth. Though I know fundamentalist Christians hate metaphor. To them it’s either the plain truth, or it’s not in the Bible.

But to turn back to the original text, in which god is telling Adam and Eve to make use of animals—not, I might add, to annihilate Barack Obama—this may be one area where Bachmann and I overlap in our beliefs. And it’s specifically in regards to my cat.

Continue reading ‘Scat cat, or every creep that creepeth’

07
Sep
11

Looking outward, looking inward

By Eric Leave a Comment
Categories: Gay, Health, Me, People We Don't Like, People We Like and Philadelphia

Half the fun of going to the gym is the chance to observe its particular biosphere. It’s treasure trove of wildlife. I say you ought to get something out of it. Lord knows I hate going to the gym.

It’s a symptom of my inexorable laziness. But I see results when I work out, and male vanity is even more compulsive than laziness. So I go. But always in the morning before work—because I hate going after work even more.

So I’ve become familiar with the characters of my morning routine. I think you see a more consistent recurrence of the same people in the morning. Everyone’s routines are a little more regimented early in the day. We still have discipline in the morning, and hope—as opposed to later in the day when we are apathetic and undone and much more inclined to get a cocktail than lift anything heavier than a gym bag.

Continue reading ‘Looking outward, looking inward’

25
Aug
11

I feel the earth move

By Eric Leave a Comment
Categories: Me, Philadelphia and Technology
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I didn’t check in to Philadelphia’s “Earthquakepocalypse” on Foursquare with the tens of thousands of others who did.

I did check in to the Chinese restaurant where I was lunching with a friend when it happened. But I did that when I got there. Nothing to do with the quake.

Where were you when it happened?

Um, I was fighting with a vegetable dumpling as it slipped through my chopsticks for the fourth time.

I don’t check in to anything with the suffix “-pocalypse,” mostly because it’s dumb. It made sense for the snowfall of winter 2009, when we were hit three times for an accumulation of four and half feet, but not now. And the ironic, self-aware over-inflation of ordinary situations just isn’t funny anymore.

However, I guess an earthquake in Philadelphia isn’t, strictly speaking, ordinary—in a Chinese restaurant or otherwise. Bottles shook at the bar. Glasses tinkled against each other on the shelves. Plum sauce skittered across the table. And my lemon chicken sauce quivered obscenely.

Continue reading ‘I feel the earth move’

17
Jun
11

Two cheeseburgers to go

By Eric 4 Comments
Categories: Bar Stories, Gay, Me and Philadelphia

“I don’t care if you’re taken or not, because you probably are, but I’m going to ask you a question anyway.”

She said it without punctuation, and it came at me by surprise, the sort of introduction that makes you assume you’re not going to want to answer the question.

I was sipping a beer, waiting for a couple of cheeseburgers to bring home for me and my husband. She was the person nearest to me at the bar, two stools away, and was also waiting for her brunch. My order was to go. She had silverware.

She looked about 50 — maybe late 40s. It was hard to tell. She had brown hair that looked natural enough to me. The skin around her eyes was mostly unwrinkled. She was small, not unattractive, but not fit. She wore glasses and had a little nose that turned up at the end. Mousy, I would call her. Librarian-esque. IT, maybe. She wore minimal make-up; just some eyeliner, some powder. Just a neighborhood gal out for brunch on a Sunday by herself.

I didn’t want to talk to her, but my need to not be rude trumped my need to be left alone. “Uh, sure …” I said. Continue reading ‘Two cheeseburgers to go’

09
Jun
11

Notes on getting a new gym bag

By Eric Leave a Comment
Categories: Life the Universe and Everything and Me

1. You must not worry what your friends will think of you when they see you carrying around a smart new gray bag with robin’s egg-blue piping and a logo nobody recognizes. Try these excuses. (Note: Do not be troubled by too much regard for the truth.)

  • It was the last one left.
  • You should have seen the pink and purple “Dora the Explorer” bag.
  • The all-black one cost twice as much as I was willing to spend.
  • Look at these great pockets!
  • I was desperate.

2. Nothing will ever be where it is supposed to be. You will continue to discover new pockets for the first three months. The way you use those pockets will change almost daily, so sometimes you will be surprised by what you find — or what you don’t find — in them. Pocket change will go in and never come out. Also you will find items in there that you never put in there. You will swear your wallet would never be in that pock— er, oh… there it is! Rummaging through the bag, you may cut yourself on your razor. Always carry Band-Aids in the bag. Continue reading ‘Notes on getting a new gym bag’

08
Jun
11

Up His Sleeve

By Eric 1 Comment
Categories: Gay and Me

From more than halfway down the block I saw part of his right arm, partially obscured by the trees lining the sidewalk. Just a patch of fabric on a light-blue polo shirt. I recognized him instantly. Funny I knew it was him with so little to go on.

I didn’t quite believe myself, so I waited until I cleared the trees so I could see more of him. Yes. There was the cigarette. I could see the outline of his glasses.

I can pick him out of a crowd by a gesture or the way he walks. The way he sways his arm. The way he plants a step. There’s an indelible imprint on my mind of all sort of of subtle clues, most of which I probably don’t even know about.

It was remarkable to me in that moment how well I must know him, after all these years. It made me proud. It felt like he was as familiar as my own reflection. It’s the stuff people hope for in a relationship. It’s the stuff you get old remembering together.

Then a terrible thought hit me. Maybe it’s just the laundry that I know so well.

17
May
11

Can’t Win for Losing

By Eric Leave a Comment
Categories: Bar Stories, Friends, Fun, Me, New York and Sports

Some people are naturally competitive about everything they do. I am not.

That’s not to say I want to lose, or that I don’t like to be my best. I get jealous when someone is good at something I want to be good at. I want to be a success, and I want people to think I’m successful, but my goal is merely to be accomplished. I don’t necessarily want to be better than anyone. I just want to be as good as they are.

I don’t need to win. Sometimes I don’t even like to win, because I feel bad that someone else had to lose. I just want to be evenly matched. And then if I should happen to win, its not my fault that someone else lost. It’s just down to a good hand. Luck. Fate.

And I don’t like to celebrate and carry on. I don’t like to stand under a spotlight as draw attention to myself as “the winner.” I definitely don’t like to put it in anyone’s face.

But then sometimes, when I drink a lot, I behave much differently.

Continue reading ‘Can’t Win for Losing’

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the untallied hours