Advice: Threesome: One Too Many?

Dear Bartender and Priestess,

My boyfriend, “Bob”, and I, are in a committed relationship. We’ve been together for the past nine months, living together for six. Yes, we moved fast. For the most part we are super-compatible. We’re good at dividing household chores and bills, we are supportive of one another, and our sex life is great. I can picture us spending the rest of our lives together.

However. Bob has a sexual bucket list, and at the top of that list is having a threesome. He almost nags me about it, because it mentions having a threesome every week, more than once a week. He’ll even make a point of showing me which of my friends and co-workers he’d like to invite in as the third person at the party. Bob says he can only picture having a threesome before we get married, because having one after we’re legal would be “weird”. Before we get married, after we get married, the fact is I’m not really comfortable with having a threesome, and I don’t expect that to change. What do I do? Should I give in and have one with him, because it seems like it’s so important? Do I let him find two other girls to have one with, even though I know I won’t be OK with it?

–Just Me In The Bed

~~~~The Bartender and The Priestess Respond~~~~

P: Here Terri, hold my shawl and my drink, will you? Because I’m going to need both my hands to pull my hair out, k?

I barely know where to start on this all kinds of bad…

See the thing about coupleness, as I see it, is that sexual bucket lists become a couple’s sexual bucket list. And a bucket list is sorta wow, that might have been really interesting to do, but damn, life interfered.

Presumably no one in Mr. Threesome’s life has ever thought it was their job to satisfy this fantasy… which is to say, so far he’s failed, but he thought maybe you could pimp his dream for him? Nice guy.

B: I want to echo Ann and emphasize that as far as couples go, a “sexual bucket list” is one that should be mutually shared by the couple. It’s not that all sexual exploration has to stop once you commit to another person. It’s that the exploration should meet both partners needs OR, at the very least, doesn’t jangle one partner’s “Ick” reflex. When that happens, the other partner needs to be willing to let that “Ick” thing fall off the table. So if you were interested in having a threesome, by all means, you should, as a couple, go for it. But you’re not.

Because the thing about sex, despite the idea that clothes can be thrown off with reckless abandon and it’s just skin, is that you are, at that time, vulnerable. You are, literally, naked. You are—especially as a woman—literally opening yourself up to someone else. You are as physically close as two people can be. If you’re not going into the bedroom joyfully (or at the very least, with open-hearted acceptance), then you shouldn’t go.

P: And actually, this is really the first thing, which makes all the other discussions sort of moot? You’re not interested. No means no. Anything else is coercion. Coercion/Persuasion to do something you don’t want to do doesn’t really fall in the partnership model, it falls in the sexual assault or maybe just harassment model.

B: Yeah, Ann, I agree. I’m more than a little alarmed by Bob’s war of attrition. Mentioning his desire to have a threesome, repeatedly, and pointing out desired partners…do you find the ground getting a little uneven beneath your feet? Does it knock you off balance a little? It should, because trying to wear you down that way is manipulative and unsettling. He’s hoping you’ll finally snap; All right! Enough already! Let’s go bang Susie from accounting!

P: For real? WORK??? He’d like you to waltz into your work place, where presumably you have a career that’s important to you, and not to him, btw or he wouldn’t be asking you to screw it up, and solicit someone for sex? Someone, who would then have all sorts of private information to hold over you. This looks like a great idea if you’re working on a program how to derail your career in a couple easy steps. There are reasons we don’t have sex at work. Almost all of them are valid.

The cards say: don't bring your co-workers into your personal kink.

The cards say: don’t bring your co-workers into your personal kink.

B: Absolutely. Repeat after me, dearest: BOUNDARIES, please! I’m concerned about Bob’s willingness to point out his desired partners from your pool of friends and co-workers. Work is not the place to look for kink playmates. That’s what Craig’s List is for. Are you supposed to view everyone in your life as a possible sex partner? Or more than that, as a sexual threat? Are you supposed to feel jealous or possessive or “maybe this is the one?” every time you’re around another attractive woman? That doesn’t lead to sexual autonomy or healthy decision-making. That’s a constant stressor, and will find its way out in overreactions, or a poor work environment. Stress will out. If you did agree to a threesome, insist that he stop pointing out which members of your social circle he’d like to sleep with and engage in finding third partner as a couple, and insist that it’s someone who’s independent from the rest of your lives.

P: Yes, it was early to move in, and that’s a problem because you need to know someone a while to know whether or not he’s going to start lobbying for you to do something you really don’t want to do “for him.” Because what’s going to happen when you say no, I’m not interested?

What will happen when you say, no, in fact, I’m not interested in a man who puts his fantasy above his real relationship?

B: I’m not sure if you’re actually engaged, or if you’re projecting into your future engagement. Regardless, you speak as though you’re looking at a lifetime together. Here’s the thing: if you’re going to function within the parameters of a committed relationship, then you need to behave as though you’re in a committed relationship. That means respectfully attending to your partner’s feelings, and reaching a mutual consensus. That does not mean filling your own desires by the grinding emotional erosion of attrition. Bob says a post-marriage threesome would be “weird”. But you’re committed to one another right now, right? This is supposed to be the testing ground before marriage. This isn’t supposed to be, “You are my one and only, baby and I know a threesome isn’t your thing, but…what about her?” Question that “but”. What if “but” never happens? Will there be resentment? Will there be cheating? Will there be more coercion, even if it’s “weird”? You need to find out just how important this is to Bob. Or, on the flip side, if you do agree to a threesome, you need to ask yourself if you’ll feel OK, or resentful, or betrayed. Depending on your perspective, a threesome can be an opportunity for you both to explore a sexual avenue, safely, together. Or, you can feel like you agreed to let your boyfriend sleep with someone else while you had to watch. (Would he be OK with if your threesome was with another man?) Or, since you already said you don’t think you would feel OK if he went forward with a threesome without you, you can feel like you undermined your own set of principles by letting him do what he wanted.

P: Oh, and this… those people who are really anxious to be part of a threesome, it does double their sexcapades and partners. I’d be wanting some good info on a person I was going to do a bunch a things to that I didn’t want to do… cause probably boyfriend wants to watch… because there’s nothing hotter than two chicks who so aren’t into each other pretending to get off for a guy…

What if he likes it and wants to do it again? Do you say no then? ‘cause now you’ve done something you had no interest in doing with someone you work with who now knows everything about you and you have to leave your apartment AND your job.

B: You know, I see people all the time, at the bar, drowning out the aftermath of bad decision-making. Ask yourself how your relationship with Bob is, overall. Yes, you said you’re both good with chores and responsibilities and have a good sex life, and those are all important, but does he make you feel respected? Cherished? Secure? Free to be who you are? And the same goes for him. Perhaps he’s just a different person with a different set of values. The question is whether or not you can make your values mesh. If the answer to that is no, I’d recommend taking some time to strongly consider whether or not he’s the person you want to spend the rest of your life with. It can be hard to extract yourself from a relationship, and we often put up with more than we want because the devil you know is better than the devil you don’t. And it’s hard to accept that you can love someone but not be able to make things “work”. Adding one more person into your bed won’t ease this sort of contemplation.

P: Feeling beleaguered or harried or resentful or compromised or unfulfilled is no way to start a life together. This question bothers you enough to write in about it. Is this, potentially, a deal-breaker? If it is, then let it be your dealbreaker, and make peace with it. It’s your body, and it should be your decision how to use it.

B: If you feel that engaging in your boyfriend’s bucket list threesome would empower you in some way, then go for it. But if you feel like this would be damaging or compromising, then stand behind your beliefs. If he can’t accept your sexual boundaries as part of the marriage package, then maybe it’s time to take a different path.

Sex Rx?

Sex Rx?

Thanks to Deb Slade for Phabulous Photos!

Thanks to Dale and the good people of the Lewisburg Hotel for the swanky location!

For more information about The Bartender and The Priestess, go here.

If you have a question for us, please email us at bartender priestess @ gmail. com; human non-Spambots, please remove the spaces.

Advice: What’s a Party Without Booze?

The Question: Recently, I decided to host an afternoon open house for my whole family; siblings, spouses, nieces, nephews. Open the door at noon, say final goodbyes by 4, eat something from the buffet table. No one was leaving my house hungry, I can promise you that. This is something I almost never do, maybe once every four or five years. We don’t see each other often, not as a large group, anyway. There are issues among us, and one of them is alcohol.

It plagues my family, deep.

Three of my six siblings have had a long-time struggle with alcohol addiction; one of them died from it just two years ago (she was only 59) and the other two are in recovery, after a pair of DUIs each. Alcohol addiction has passed down generationally in my family, too; several of my nieces and nephews now face the same struggle, though their problems have not crossed legal boundaries. Yet. In light of all of this, I opted not to serve alcohol at my brunch. I never said the attendees couldn’t bring their own (and one nephew brought beer for himself), but I wasn’t going to provide any, and I asked my husband of 22 years, who has watched all of this happen in my family, to not drink that day, either. And this caused a fight between me and my husband.

No, it's your fault, you big palooka.

No, it’s your fault, you big palooka.

 

My husband thought it was “unfair” to deny cocktails to the other guests at the open house. He likes to enjoy a glass of wine, particularly when my family is around. He thought it was unreasonable of me to level demands on the rest of the attendees because only two of them couldn’t drink. And he feels that since my brothers—the ones in recovery—will have to learn how to be around alcohol, I was coddling them with my decision. What do you think? Was I being unfair to my other guests with my decision?

The Bartender and the Priestess Respond:

Priestess: Wow! Barkeep? I’ll have two aspirin along with the club soda! ! There’s a lot going on here, and none of it easy. Let’s start with the simple: Hospitality. Here’s what Google has to say about that: “the friendly and generous reception and entertainment of guests, visitors, or strangers.” This is not to be confused with the hospitality industry, which means supplying what people want for a price. So, no, providing a warm welcome and good food at your house is a lovely bit of hospitality. You don’t owe anyone alcohol. I disagree with the original notion that you’re denying anyone anything by inviting them to your house for a party, even if alcohol is not served. So that’s the easiest part of the question dealt with. And staying simple, doesn’t anyone know how to use google to figure out some great drinks that are non-alcoholic? You’re not the only people in this boat, you know. Terri, how are you calling this…

 

Bartender: I feel like I should be all, “Step aside, people. I’m a professional, let me handle this.” But this is a situation that’s painfully fraught. Annie, my dear, I can’t do this without you.

First, let me make this ABUNDANTLY clear: if a person—any person—wants to host an event and not serve alcohol, that’s perfectly fine. Much like they can choose not to serve shrimp salad, or quiche. It’s just a thing, it doesn’t define an event. At least, it shouldn’t. I know that as far as parties and hosting go, it’s generally what’s socially expected. It’s also expected that people control themselves around it, which the letter writer’s family has proven they cannot do. But even without the tragic family history, it’s OK to not serve alcohol.

And clearly, the letter writer did not “deny” people their right to drink. She didn’t take away the six pack her nephew brought. She just chose not to provide it. Her house, her family, her right. I am completely in support of her decision to host her own family at her house as she sees most fit.

 

Priestess: The question of whether you and your husband can have a party without alcohol seems to be in play. Is the husband willing to talk about his need to lubricate the party? Especially, if it’s a party that happens very infrequently. And what you needed, it seems to me is support in a very hard circumstance. As a person who spends a lot of time doing ritual and celebration with people, if there’s anything that interferes with people’s ability to be present it’s alcohol. It sounds like you not only needed to control the event (the ever so infrequent event), so that people weren’t tempted, so that they behaved well, you also needed to be backed up here. You have a brother who died from alcohol related issues. That’s huge. And even if you’re skittish and a bit rigid about it (and I’m not saying you are)? So what? You’re his wife, who needed him.

 

Bartender: Did we answer what the letter writer thought was the actual question? Because what I really want to talk about is this husband. I’m kind of worried about him. I think he might have alcohol issues of his own.

I keep circling back around to the words “unfair” and “deny”. Unfair and deny. Alcohol. It’s unfair to deny me booze. When someone reaches that point at the bar, that’s when I cut them off. “It’s not fair because I want it” tells me that person has crossed the line from reasonable adult control to childish, id-based petulance. It’s taken on emotional precedence in the user’s mind. I feel like hubs is putting way too much emotional weight on the presence of booze. And, conversely, he’s not putting enough emotional weight on the struggles his wife and her family face. How many of her relatives have to die young before he accepts that, for them, alcohol isn’t all fun and games? There’s an unsettling lack of compassion here, for her, from him. Wasn’t he there when she buried her one sibling? Didn’t he see that affect her? Doesn’t the husband get that her decision actually has nothing to do with him and everything to do with his wife’s pain?

 

Priestess: What I don’t see in your husband’s conversation is the “honey, how is this for you? How can I help?” If this is a normal part of your pattern, then you may want to look at changing it? But since you’re both commenting on things it sounds like you work fairly easily together. Does he know how you feel beneath all the rational stuff about your family’s drinking problems? Do you know how you feel? What kind of counseling have you done about this? It’s hard as hell if you’re the sober one in a family full of people who are consumed by alcohol. And sober or no, alcohol affects everyone in the family.

 

Bartender: Of course, if the wife’s brothers are now in recovery, that’s where they will be for the rest of their lives and it can’t be expected that they’ll be sheltered from booze forever. They’re going to have to learn how to function around that, and in this one respect the husband is correct. However. Two years isn’t that long of a time in terms of getting past the untimely death of a loved one — from the very thing you want to serve at your party.

And, family holds a special place for people. I don’t mean that in terms of familial love. I mean, they’re really good at setting off emotional triggers. How many times have any of us been at a booze-soaked family event and thought, “You know…this is why I drink.” How many times have TV shows or movies used the sight-gag where a person is at a family event and swallows an entire glass of scotch in order to deal? A lot of the coping behavior we exercise in adulthood, we start learning in childhood, thanks to the interactions with our families. I don’t think it’s a bad thing for the letter writer to not endorse the sort of behavior that’s been demonstrably harmful to her family. Again: she is not Carrie Nation, breaking kegs of beer in the street so nobody can have any. She’s just not providing the thing that she feels is an emotional and physical detriment.

I mean, if one sibling had died of lung cancer and the other two were in chemo, would the husband insist everyone smoke inside because he wants it that way? Or would you be putting out large bowls of cigarettes and inviting people to take a few?

Is he willing to help or only willing to complain?

 

Priestess: You don’t ever say how the party went… Was it a good time? And if it was a good time, does that give you both some leeway to have more of the same? And before you do that are you willing to do just the wee-ist bit of work to figure out where you stand in this family of self destructive people — with a husband who is no where near as supportive as you need in these very painful moments. And if he’s unable to be supportive because of his own alcohol issues, don’t you want to know that the issue isn’t the party, but, once again, alcohol. And if that’s the case what do you need to do?

And to answer the question, can a party be a party without booze?? Betcha by golly, yeah.

Here. It's good for what ails ya.

Here. It’s good for what ails ya.

Got a question? Drop us a line at bartender priestess @ gmail .com (human non spam-bots, please remove spaces) and you may see it answered here on this very page!

Many thanks to Deb Slade for her Phantastic Photo, of the gracious and lovely models Marjorie and George.

And thanks to the good people of the Lewisburg Hotel for allowing us to shoot photos there.

See the original post at Sacred Village!

Advice: Your Father Is Not Your Fiancé

Dear Bartender and Priestess: When I was in medical school I fell in love with one of my classmates, a great guy, I’ll call him “Bob”. We’ve been together for four years, but for the better part of a year it’s been long distance; my residency is in our home town, but he is doing his residency in another state. We see each other every month and are completely solid as a couple, deeply in love.

Two years ago, Bob and I visited my father and stepmother. Bob likes to discuss politics and history and can hold his own in a discussion; my father has decided Bob has anger(Control) issues. Dad told me Bob isn’t affectionate enough with me because he and I didn’t have PDAs at Dad’s house. The fact is, I asked him not to mug me up too much in front of my dad. Then my stepmother said, “just so I was aware”, that my entire family hates Bob. I found out later this was a total lie, though not until after I (tearfully) confronted my mother and sister about this.

Dad refuses to give Bob a second chance. He won’t invite Bob back to the house no matter how much I try to reason with him. My mother says Dad secretly hopes our current long-distance status will dribe Bob and I apart. But that’s not going to happen. We got engaged in April. Since we’re bogged down with student loans and still finishing our schooling, we don’t have a ring yet or anything like an anticipated wedding date. The only people who know are his family and our closest friends.

We mean business.

We mean business.

I am terrified to break this news to my father and stepmother. My father is no stranger to cutting people out of his life if he feels it suits him. He didn’t speak to his own mother for five years. When I was 13, my father left my mother, abandoning the family to marry my stepmother. Since then I’ve bent over backward to be the perfect daughter. The tension that I feel about how he treats Bob completely stresses me out, but I don’t want my relationship with Dad to crumble. What can I do?

The Bartender and the Priestess Respond:

B: Ai yi yi.  What an emotional quagmire. Pull up a stool, this is going to take a while. Why did you bury a critical piece of information—that your dad left you—in the bottom of your letter, almost like it’s an aside? Oh, by the way, he abandoned us. Why is the relationship with your father so important? He’s the one who left you in the past, you didn’t leave him. And the fact that you’re bending over backward to be “the perfect daughter”—which is something that doesn’t exist—props the door open for him to leave you again. You’re an adult. Don’t be terrified that this mean, selfish person is possibly going to leave. Ask yourself why you want him in your life in the first place.

P: Let’s be clear, now he’s threatening to leave you again and he’s making the conditions for his love completely impossible. He’s working to cut you off from love so that he can tell you whether or not you’re lovable — as opposed to accepting the good opinion of the man who loves you. That’s scary. And it raises the odor of abuse. And what’s up with the family dynamic? You introduced your beloved to your dad and step-mom, and she then got in touch  — or said she did — with the rest of the family? Let’s take a wild flyer here. Your dad was having an affair with this woman when he left your Mother? Right? And you believed what she told you rather than knowing that she’d be trying to ruffle the waters.

And it doesn’t seem like you trust your Mom a lot — that would be your Mom who stood by you when your father waltzed — so that when she says, honey I never said that, why wouldn’t you accept that? What’s with the big fights? Is that common? It seems there’s miscommunication everywhere. I’m not sure why your your mom is being a conduit for your dad either. he said/she said is a lousy way to communicate.

B: Seriously. You believed your stepmom over your own mother? I’m curious as to why. Has she been a source of comfort in your life, or something divisive? Because in my admittedly limited experience, she’s pretty divisive. You seem to have learned to turn your back on things on a regular basis, my dear. You’ve abandoned responsibility for your own well-being in favor of an abusive relationship. You void positive interactions with her mother—who, we assume, at the very least didn’t abandon you too—after your father left. Do you think your mother’s worth is diminished because your father left her, too? Or does her feeding and clothing you in the time after he left generate any sort of present-day loyalty?

P: So how do you want to live your life? Do you want to be a happy, well-adjusted adult? Being a whole person, and present, as a doctor. Do you want a healthy relationship with your partner?  Stifling him isn’t going to bring that about.

B: Or do you want to live your emotional life as an abandoned 14-year-old girl who’s chasing her father’s affection? Because a pretty significant part of you is still rooted in that girl who got left behind.

P: Fear, which is what your dad raises in you, shuts you down. Love, which is what you have with your partner, softens your edges and opens you to the world.

B: Because really, if you’ve found The One, the person you think will make you happiest above all others, then you should be only too happy to shout it from the rooftops. There’s no nobility in staying in a relationship that makes you suffer. There’s only suffering. You need to figure out how to allow yourself to go out in search of joy.

P: If you’re worried about honoring your father, you have to honor the man he is rather than the man you’d like him to be. He’s never been particularly fatherly, is borderline abusive, and unlikely to change. On the other hand, Bob seems like a keeper, a man willing to work toward a life utterly unlike the one your father offers. I say what I always say… choose Love

Prescription.

Prescription.

Have a burning question you need an answer to? Write us at bartenderpriestess@gmail.com — Smart Women: Here to Help!

Phabulous Photography by Deb Slade. Many thanks to the Lewisburg Hotel and, of course, thanks to our glorious Model Marjorie.

To visit the original post see: http://sacredvillage.org/your-father-is-not-your-fiance/

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The ’80s Pin Project: Special Guest Mother’s Day Pin

For an explanation of what the Pin Project is, go here.

When I started working on the Pin Project, it jump-started a fun little conversation between me and my friends and family about pins that we had, or have, and what they may have meant to us at the time we bought them. My sister mentioned having a “Shut Up and Dance” pin (which I may also have but you know…I don’t know. Time will tell!), and a friend reminisced about how she, too, used her pins to go up one side of her purse strap and down the other. Because we’re cool like that, right? 

Then my mother–my adorable Mom-o-rama–said, “You know, I have a pin like the ones you’re posting. Your aunt sent it to me while I was in the hospital.” When I visited her recently, she’d already dug this pin out of her memento box and had it sitting front-and-center on the dining room table. Bright yellow pin, dark wood table, bright sunlight. I couldn’t have missed it even if I wanted to.

Truth.

Truth.

There’s an inescapable poignancy to this pin. Because the fact of the matter is: she has survived damn near everything.

Cancer. Survived.

Heart attack. Survived.

Broken neck (what? Really!): Survived. (That’s when this pin came on the scene.)

My father’s long, slow decline thanks to Parkinson’s disease: Survived (and, she even managed his care while healing from said broken neck).

When she was in the rehab facility, early on in her neck recovery, my mother (obviously) wasn’t allowed to smoke. And she had been a smoker for decades. After her release from the hospital, Mom continued with her campaign of not-smoking, which kind of surprised me because nothing else had deterred her before. I said, “I’m glad you quit, but why now? I mean, you had cancer, you didn’t quit smoking. You had a heart attack, you didn’t quit smoking. But a broken neck makes you quit? Why?”

Gesturing into the air, my mother shrugged her shoulders and said, “Eh…I feel like I’m using up too many of my lives.” 

Did I mention, she’s funny?

My mother is an inspiration for what to do when you feel like life is kicking you in the ass. Because what the hell else are you going to do? Give in? Or get back up and keep living?

Me and la Mom.

Me and la Mom.

Happy Mother’s Day, Mom. Thanks for setting the standard.

XOXO

I’ve Been All Mysterious Lately…

…about my whereabouts and shenanigans, I know. But it’s been a crazy few months, and there’s been a bit of internal philosophizing in the process. I’ve been caught up in a few things. Good things, mind you, but still demanding of my time.

First, I have become licensed to teach Silver Sneakers classes at my local gym. It’s a workout program designed for an aging population, for people who can’t necessarily (or don’t want to) handle high-intensity or high-impact exercise classes.

They might not be silver. But they're sneakers. And they're mine.

They might not be silver. But they’re sneakers. And they’re mine.  Notice the paisley water glass in the background. I have issues. 🙂

Working on this licensing has prompted me to contemplate how different my life is from anything I would have imagined it to be. I moved to central PA ten (10!) years ago, and thought I’d be here six months. I never imagined that I would meet someone here who’s as fun and fantastic and thoughtful (and single at the time!) as George, and yet, there he was, ready for me. If anyone had told me when I rolled into town with my luggage in tow that a decade later I would still be in central PA with a wonderful and supportive boyfriend by my side, I wouldn’t have believed them for a second. And if you’d told me that on top of that, I was going to end up in the fitness industry…well, “preposterous” isn’t quite the right word. Ludicrous, that would have been more like it. But you know, you break an ankle, you have a bit of a health scare, you realize you’re not bullet-proof. At least, that’s what happened with me.

For the record? It take a LOT of work to get ready to teach a workout class. There are hours of videos to watch (over and over again), choreography to work out, steps to get into your head, notes to jot, that go into every single class. Hats off to the people who have done it so long they don’t have to really get into the prep. In two years, I might–MIGHT–be in that place.  What’s even harder for me to understand in my own internal motivation: I just signed up for Zumba licensing. Like, one discipline isn’t enough? I need to get two? What are they–potato chips? You can’t have just one… 🙂

Ooh, what else, what else?

Right. So I finished a book. Writing one, not reading one. It’s been a long process! The writing started probably two years ago thanks to a friend and writing partner who had an idea he wanted to bring to life. Between research (because it takes place at a specific historical point in time) and a ride on several heavily emotional, creativity-crippling roller coasters (the loss of both my and George’s fathers, totaling our car), there were large chunks of time which found me staring blankly at my computer screen, kind of like this…

While funny, the pencil under the nose is not conducive to wordsing out a story.

What kind of book is it, you ask? It’s a mystery! No, I’m not refusing to tell you; it’s a mystery novel that’s kind of noir-y and full of disreputable men and tough-as-nails women. And YES! Hooray! It is done, and it’s been pointed out to me more than once that many books are started, but few are finished. The fact remains that I have one of the most patient writing partners in the history of human patience. But we recently made the push to get the final chapters written (hence, again, my lack of presence in blogworld) and are now…

Holy pockets! What did I just say?  Did I say I just finished a goddamned book? Like, it’s here, it’s corporeal, it’s not spinning in the ether anymore?

Shit. Just. Got. Real.

Time to get my editing hat on and make it beautiful before the pitch letters go out.

So that’s why I’ve been decidedly absent from my blog. Philosophizing, writing, teaching a gym class or two (three times a week, what on earth was I thinking?).  And working at a few different jobs in between. I’ve barely even had time to cook; thank goodness George kept me fed, or I would have been reduced to gnawing on dried beans and the questionable contents of those odd jars at the back of the pantry. You know the ones. In back, to the left.

Anyway. I also haven’t been taking many pictures lately, but I’ll leave you with one I snapped on the 4th of July, celebrating with some floating lanterns and some family, down by the river.

Away it goes!

Away it goes!

🙂 What? I’m not a robot, you know. It hasn’t all been work.

Oh Noes! Aliens!

I was at my niece’s wedding last night (which was beautiful and a lot of fun and a good time was had by all, and so on, and so on), when I glanced up and thought…hey…the reflections from the overhead recessed lights in the windows kind of look like they’re a fleet of advancing UFOs.

Yes, because that’s the first thing I think of.

So I pull out my camera, snap a shot and have a giggle. The lighting in the room lent itself to the whole “kitschy alien invasion” thing because overall the room was dimmed for dancing, and the walls were splash-lit with crazy pink lights. Perfect, right? Ed Wood would have knocked himself out to film in a room like this. If he could have afforded color film. Anyway.

Then I looked at my brother, who is…oh, what’s that word?  Oh, right! A ham…and said, “Hey, Chris. Aliens are coming. Point!”

Family.

Family.

In all seriousness, I love this picture like it’s frickin’ oxygen.

Maturity is overrated.

Meanwhile, At The Restaurant: No, It’s To-Go

The other night, George and I were out at a local restaurant. A family of four came in; Mom, Dad, two little boys who, if I had to guess, were like 4 and 6. It was kind of late-ish for kids to be out eating (it had to be at least 8:00) so the boys were hungry and cranky. Dad was an impatient manly-man, so when the lone waiter working the entire front of the restaurant and seating new diners during this busy night didn’t attend to them in the first minute of them standing there, Dad took matters into his own hands. And sat his family down at the table next to us. Yay.

So they order, and the kids’ food comes out, and then Dad’s food comes out, but Mom’s is delayed because the kitchen was backed up. Ah, well, such is life, right? So the couple will talk and take care of the kids while they wait for Mom’s food, right? And if Dad were so hungry he had to eschew manners and eat immediately, then maybe he’d offer Mom a little bit from his plate so she could nibble too while waiting, right?  Yeah.  Only no.  Instead, Dad proceeded to pull out his goddamned phone and Facebook (or whatever) while he ate. Ignoring his entire family. Ignoring the wife who wasn’t eating yet. Leaving her to contend with two tired, squirrelly kids on her own. While he was sitting right there next to them all. And when her meal came…well, words fail. It looked a little something like this.

The only thing I've exaggerated here is the size of his brow.

The only thing I’ve exaggerated here is the size of his brow.

(Remember, WordPress screwed f*ed us with their photo editing changes, so there is no “open in new window” option.)

That’s right. HE FACEBOOKED THROUGH HIS OWN MEAL, AND THEN WOULDN’T LET HIS WIFE EAT HER DINNER.

And for the record, when the one little boy knocked his water glass over and spilled most of it into his mother, guess who got up to help her clean up, get fresh napkins for the table, and alerted the waiter there was a spill?  Most people would think, oh, it was the other adult at the table, because that’s what responsible, thinking, caring adults in a relationship do for one another, right?

BZZT. Wrong. It was me. I helped her. I helped get her table cleaned. ME.

Sigh. I don’t even know what else to say about this except: If you’re this guy and you’re reading this, then understand that I only have the best of intentions when I tell you, you are a douchebag. Only because I hope you recognize it to be true, and want to change your douchebaggy ways. Your kids deserve a father who’s present and engaged, not some…douchebag, really, it’s the word that fits…who trawls his phone during dinner, exhibits no sign of joy or interest in his own family, who shows such…you know, it’s not even disrespect, it’s total douchey disregard, for his wife. I don’t know if getting your wife’s food to go shows you’re the control freak type of douchebag, or if you’re the sort of douchebag who is douchebaggy thanks to a wretched cavern in your soul filled with cluelessness but dude, when a stranger at the next table and the waiter have more concern for your wife’s well being than you do?

You’re doing it wrong.

So…this happened.

While wasting time on Facebook (which I do way, waaaay too much, and I really need to reign that in, but I digress), I reposted a picture from George Takei‘s FB feed. Kind of funny, kind of saucy, totally double-entendre *tee hee*-ish.  And then my mom commented on said picture. See below.

*tee hee*

*tee hee*

So ha ha and it’s kind of cute and funny, because it looks like my mom doesn’t get the minxy kind of sexyjoking.  Right?  Right?  Oh, naive mother of mine.  Of course, she has had five kids, but who wants to let reality and logic get in the way of personal narrative?

Then I got this text from my mother.

mom rodwork text

D’oh!

o.0

Bow-chicka-bow-WHOA!!!

*cough cough*

Thanks, Mom. Is that my own comedy petard you’ve just hoist me in?

I’m going to be laughing about this for weeks.

2013 Thus Far

I’m going to be blunt here.

2013 can go fuck itself.

I’m about to head back to the homeland to go to the funeral of an uncle.  Really?  George’s dad, then my dad, and now my uncle?  And there’s been other stuff that’s sucked, though none of it compares to the loss of such important members of my family.  If I develop mysterious sores, I’m going to wonder when I was nominated to be the next Job.  Though lots of friends have suffered tragic losses this year, so…on the behalf of everyone I know who’s had a shitty go of things, 2013…I think I’ve made it clear how I feel about you.  You’ve got some ‘splaining to do.  And really, it’s not me, it’s all you.  I own none of it.

Agggh.  The next few days are gonna suck.

I miss hearing from you all, I’ll be back soon.

Until then, here are a few pictures I’ve taken within the calendar year 2013, in an effort to remind myself and others that maybe 2013 doesn’t deserve to be completely wiped from our memories.  I don’t want to put up gloomy pics, because I’m trying to angle for instant karma points.  Oh, look (says an otherwise cruel and unfeeling universe), she put up a picture of a lacy butterfly!  Let’s not kill any more of her loved ones until, at the very least, the end of the year.

So. With no further ado and in no particular order…

Black swallowtail butterfly, my back yard. (Did you think I was kidding about posting a butterfly pic?)

Black swallowtail butterfly, my back yard. (Did you think I was kidding about posting a butterfly pic?)  My back yard, summer 2013.

A day spent at Knoebel's with my brother, sis-in-law and the kiddos. July 2013.

A day spent at Knoebel’s with my brother, sis-in-law and the kiddos.
July 2013.

Railroad tracks in autumn.  Sigh.

Railroad tracks in autumn. Sigh.
Lewisburg, September 2013.

This guy.

This guy.
Artscape, Baltimore, July 2013.

John & Molly's wedding. Lutsen, MN, July 2013.

John & Molly’s wedding.
Lutsen, MN, July 2013

And for good measure, here’s a video of an otter juggling a rock.  I didn’t take the video, but I love it all the same.

I (sincerely, truly) hope your year is better than mine.  Enjoy!

Travel Theme: Motion

This week’s travel theme at Where’s My Backpack? is: motion!  As luck or fate or my enviable location in central PA would have it, family is in from out of town.  And it’s family with small kiddos.  Which, of course, means that Knoebel’s is on the agenda for any summer, G-rated daytime adventure.  Knoebel’s, for the uninitiated, is only (really!) Travel Channel’s #2 amusement park in the country…the country, people, and as far as countries go this is a big’un.  Admission is free.  Parking is free.  You buy books of tickets or do an all-day wristband.  And it looks a little like a throwback to some gauzy, nostalgic era that never really existed except in magical places people invent to bestow a sense of gauzy nostalgia.

It’s fantastic.

But enough of me spinning my wheels here, yapping away.  You want motion?  You got it.

The Power Surge is one of my favorite rides.  It flings you about like crazy, but it’s a great shortcut to getting zen and contemplating the impermanence of our mortal existence.  Plus, you spin around a lot and it’s reallyreally cool.

The Power Surge. Surging.

The Power Surge. Surging.

Meanwhile, my niece rocks it out in a bouncy moon walk.

You would never get me out of this.

You would never get me out of this.

The Twister is a giant wooden roller coaster with lots of dips and twists and turns.  Here’s a car going down one of the first–but by no means the highest–drops.

Hands up or it's not a real ride.

Hands up or it’s not a real ride.

Saaaay…is that a pirate ship emerging through the tops of the trees?

No, I'm just happy to see you.

No, I’m just happy to see you.

When I stop and think about all ways our bodies are being enacted on by various forces at work in an amusement park–some of us are being swung sideways at great heights, while others spend their time in the air being tumbled around inside what looks like a giant time-release capsule–I can’t help but be grateful.  I’m so glad science works.  Engineers rule!

Obey gravity. It's the law.

Obey gravity. It’s the law.

And finally: third car back, bald dude mugging for the camera, throwing his hands up in the air to party hearty like he jus’ don’t care?  Yeah, that’s my brother.  The little flame of red hair next to him is my niece.

See I am Wonder Garz and I'd like to say hello.

See I am Wonder Garz and I’d like to say hello.

Go to Knoebel’s.  I’ll meet you there.

K

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