Hoppin' Around Like a Flea on a Griddle!

Sunday. (Aaaaahhh....). After a week of jumping through my ass at work, and at the gym, and doing stuff (which I define here as anything that I must do that I don't particularly want to do, but which, alas, must be done regardless of my personal feeling regarding them... PLPPLPLLPLP!!) I finally have a day when I can relax and recharge my batteries.

I woke up at about 11AM this morning, and laid around until about noon. (Well.. I didn't actually just lay around... rolled and writhed around is more accurate... Elysia helped quite a bit!!). I breeped out to the grocery store and picked up stuff for breakfast, which we had at around 2PM (eggs, steak, rye toast, home fries, OJ, and coffee-blessed-coffee-the-nectar-of-the-gods). Incidentally, I got sparkled and gushed at by the cashier at the grocery store. I didn't think to ask his name, which, in view of the fact that I am extremely heterosexual isn't too surprising. I'm not quite sure how to respond to this when it happens, because it is somewhat outside of my social experience. I definitely don't want to hurt anybody's feelings, so I try to find a spot someplace between how I would treat a lady and how I would treat a really nice guy that I just met. I'm not quite sure if it works or falls flat. I'm a dweeb. I have no issue with gay-folk whatsoever. I think that anybody should be able to love anybody that they love and not have to explain themselves or answer to anyone else about it. I damn sure wouldn't respond well to anybody who had the unmitigated gall to tell me that I couldn't love who I love... for any reason. Where I run into the proverbial wall is when I am confronted with a situation where somebody is coming on to me and I don't want to hurt their feelings but at the same time do not want to lead them on, either. I think I handle it well, but I'm never sure, so it makes me somewhat uncomfortable.

To read this, it sounds as though I am constantly beset by moon-eyed suitors of both sexes... this is patently inaccurate. It does happen from time to time though... and it doesn't matter whether its a guy or a girl, It makes me feel mildly weird. I appreciate the attention, and the flattery, no doubt (You really like me??!), but I also am very sensitive to the fact that when you extend yourself in this fashion and it doesn't work out, it stings... no matter how nicely the rejection is handled. I don't like hurting people's feelings, so it sort of makes me feel creepy. Some cases are easier than others to handle, depending upon how the situation is presented to me.

Last night I tended bar for a wedding of perhaps 210-250 people (I tend bar on a part-time basis.. to earn much needed extra cash). Most of the wait staff and all of the other bartenders have name tags. I do not. (I was never given one.. so I don't wear one). A guy approached me with a drink made by one of the other bartenders (a screwdriver) and complained that it tasted as though it had been made with grapefruit juice (blech!). I quickly made him another screwdriver, and after handing it to him, I asked the woman standing next to him "When are you going to let him know that you put us up to making his drink with grapefruit juice??" as a joke... she gave me a blank deer-in-the-headlights sort of look, and didn't reply at first. The guy wandered off sipping his drink (he was apparently happy with it..) and she asked me if I knew who he was. I told her that I had no idea, looking at him again to see if he may have been some famous celebrity or someone that I should somehow know... She said, "He's my ex-husband... we've been fighting for years!! He would believe that I would put you up to that..."

I looked at her for a second, and then apologized. (whoops!) She laughed, and said that it didn't matter. She ordered her drink, and headed off to socialize.

About an hour later she came back to my bar with two guys... her ex-husband, and his brother, apparently, and they stood there and talked for about 20 minutes. (I hate this, incidentally... I'm not sure why. I wish they would get their drinks, and go the fuck away...) Throughout the time they stood there, she kept giving me these long intense looks, which made me somewhat squirmy and uncomfortable, so I busied myself with side-work at my bar and stopped looking at them. Eventually, they went off and left me in peace.

Within 15 to 20 minutes, she was back.. this time with three girlfriends. They ordered their drinks, and then they all hung on my bar and talked and laughed and basically wouldn't go away. Great. Finally, they wandered a short distance away, but she kept looking back at me with those freaky looks again... which I pretended not to notice. She walked back over and draped herself over the bar. I asked her if I could fix her a drink, and she responded by pointing out that I wasn't wearing a name tag. I admitted that I wasn't. She asked me what my name was, and I told her that I was the 'Nameless Bartender'. She nodded, and thought about that for a while as she surveyed the room and the other party-goers for a few seconds. Turning her attention back to me, she asked what she should call me, since I didn't have a name. I pointed out that since I was basically always to be found at my bar, that there was really no pressing need to call me at all, and that all she had to do in order to get a drink of her choice would be to pop on by. "But if I wanted to call you, what would I call you?" she asked. Wanting to remain vague, I asked her what she would like to call me? (bad strategy on my part, by the way... giving the initiative to the other side like that... stupid Bear). She replied that she would like to call me 'Honey', 'Baby', 'Sweetie', or something like that.... and asked me which one I would prefer? I told her that I found all of them somewhat awkward, and that 'Bartender' or 'Barkeep', or even 'Hey', 'Mac', or 'Buddy' were probably more to my liking.

I could see thin ice approaching, here... and I wanted to put a little distance between it and myself... hopefully without negatively affecting my financial prospects should she start bad-mouthing me to the rest of the crowd at the wedding, should I piss her off. I was in a sticky situation, and I just knew it was about to get even stickier. (Welcome to Bear's world...)

Trying to put things back on an even keel, I once again reiterated that since I wasn't mobile, I was in fact very easy to locate, and therefore there was no need to call me at all, so everyone could be happy!, (and I could still make some decent money!)

She said that there was in fact, a pressing need for her to call me by name, because she wanted to call me outside 'for a little while'. I told her that I couldn't go outside because I was working. She suggested that I find somebody to mind the bar 'for just a little while' and come outside with her... or to the lady's room. (??!!)

At this point, my outward cool began to disintegrate... I stared at her blankly for a couple of seconds, and managed to croak out a strangled 'what for??' (real smooth.. ay??)

She replied (to my shock and surprise, I might add) "What would you say to a blow-job??"

Time elongated for me then... I wasn't quite sure where to go with this... but I could see a terrible scene taking place no matter what I did or said... I just stood there, like an asshole, staring at her blankly while my brain chased its tail in an attempt to catch up with the flow of events.

Finally, my ability to think on my feet asserted itself once again (thankfully) and I said, "I would say what I always say to a blowjob."

She said, "Oh yeah?, and what might that be?? (narrowing her eyes in what I think may have been a suggestive expression....)

I answered, "Thank You Elysia, that was wonderful!!"

She looked a bit confused at this, and countered, "My name isn't Elysia!", at which point I held up my left hand, twisted my wedding ring about with my right hand, and explained, "But it is Her name.." in my gentlest of voices.

She gave me a long appraising stare, nodded slightly, and walked off to hopefully enjoy the rest of the wedding reception.

She was somewhat direct, and a little bit crass, but essentially seemed to me to be a nice enough person. I didn't want to hurt her feelings, but I also wanted to reestablish control of my bar area and let her know that I wasn't there to further some dynamic that she was pursuing against her ex-husband, which I suspect was her motivation for whatever the hell that was.

Besides, I have the best and most beautiful woman that walks the face of the earth, and when you find what you most want, you stop looking elsewhere. I'm there to earn money for our home, our life, and our dreams... that's the compensation for spending time away from my girl.

I'm somewhat baffled over what would make this chick focus on the slightly overweight bartender. Go figure.

Speaking of slightly overweight... I am finally starting to see some small results from the fitness program!!

I can't put my weight down, because I don't actually know what it is... The scale at the gym had a nervous breakdown and had to be shot; If I stepped on it four times, I got four wildly differing weights - 325lbs, 190lbs, 237lbs, 25lbs - what the fuck is that all about?? At any rate, until they consolidate their feces (get their shit together) over there at the gym, and either get a new scale that actually works, or fix this damned thing.. I have to just continue on in abject bodyweight ignorance. Rats! What I can say is that I can feel and see my body hardening and getting ever so slightly muscley. I actually am developing traps! I can see them. Now.. to most of you, the presence or absence of traps is probably not all that big of a deal.... but to me, who have been busting my ass and working like a feverish maniac this is momentous! It validates my efforts, and gives me proof that this shit actually works! As soon as I can weigh myself, I will post my success (or failure) here.

I did manage to pinpoint (and correct) one major fuck-up in my dietary intake. I was taking with me to work each day a peanut butter on raisin bread sandwich lightly drizzled with honey. Okay. Sometimes two. I was figuring a sandwich to be around 200 to 250 calories. One night last week as I was preparing my lunch, I happened to quite unintentionally spot the following on the label of the peanut butter jar; "140 calories from fat". This caused me to stop and read the label. (Thinking something like... "Oh.... fuck!" or "Holy shit!" or something like that... I didn't like what I learned at all, though I was glad I spotted it! I then went on to read the labels on the bread package, and then on the honey. This is what I learned:

Peanut butter - calories per serving (One tablespoon): 300 (140 calories from fat)(I know damned well that I put about three servings on EACH sandwich... but we'll do our figures predicated on one serving for the sake of simplicity)

Cinnammon Raisin Bread - calories per serving (one slice): 80

Honey - calories per serving (one teaspoon): 60

So that works out to 520 calories per sandwich. Thats 1040 calories from the sandwiches alone!!

Folks, this works out to 5200 calories per week.

There are 3500 calories to one pound of fat. This means that by eating two sandwiches per day, I am adding 1.5 pounds per week. Most of it derived from fat, (and probably ending up as fat... around my waist and on my gut... nice!)

(What a DICK!)

Well... the sandwiches have gone 'into the bin', and I now cook up my lunch the night before. Chicken breast, no fat, no skin, and a vegetable... I can have as much hot sauce as I like (0 calories, 0 fat, 0 carbs, 0 everything! Zero!) I have more to eat, it's tastier, and it's healthier. I cook pork, chicken.. fish if I want to... steak, (though I am making a concerted effort to avoid red meat in favor of pork, chicken, turkey, and fish). I have yogurt, fruit, or whatever other more healthy choices I can come up with. Its a better deal.

Now that I have eliminated that blotch from my diet, I should see some much better results from here on out. I was short-circuiting myself and failed to take notice. Now I am reading labels and learning exactly what the hell I'm putting into my body.

On other fronts, I got a call from my son last Sunday (who is in the Air Force, stationed in New Mexico).

"Hi Dad".

"Hello, Male-offspring, what's new?"

"Not much... um...."

"Um?"

"Well, I, Er... Ah... that is to say... ah..um...mmmmm"

"Yes?"

"Well................."

"..........{subtle cough}"

"There's a new member of the family.."

"Oh! {pleasantly surprised} did you get a kitten?!"

"No..."

"A puppy?! What kind?!"

"No... I got married."

"WHAT?!!"

"I got married."

"When!?"

"Monday.."

"Monday? What's today?"

"...Sunday.."

"Yes?..."

"I tried to call, but nobody answered..."

"Oh. Okay then. Are you happy?"

"Yes!"

"Well. Good for you, then. Congratulations!"

"Thanks Dad..... we are planning a wedding ceremony next year in New York..."

"That'll be great... we'll talk about it, okay?"

"Yeah Dad..."

"Okay... Love You."

"I Love you too, Dad... bye."

"Bye"


Married. My mind spins... I think it happened way too fast.. but I recognize that it isn't my choice to make. I am hurt that he didn't talk to me about it first, but accept that he doesn't have to. I hope that it will work out for him and that he will be happy, and loved, and have a strong marriage... and I am fearful that it won't work out... I know that each of us has to do what we feel is right for ourselves, but still feel the protective urge... I still picture him in my mind as a little boy.

He isn't though. He's a man. With a good level head on his shoulders, and a heart.

Today I called and talked to his wife.. I welcomed her to the family, wished them the best of luck, and congratulated her. She giggled and sounded thrilled. (Everybody on both ends works so damned much that we can't ever manage to catch one another during the week... Sunday is phone-call day).

I have started formulating a plan for a gift to them.

I hope it works out for them. I want them to be happy.

Phonecalls.

I got one in the middle of the night last night from my youngest brother. Apparently my mom had to be rushed to the hospital in an ambulance. They discovered that her lung had collapsed. (!!!)

I spoke with her today, and she said she felt much better than she did last night. She hopes to be home tommorrow or Monday.

I hope so, too...

My other brother's daughter (he has a collection of them...) had a baby on the 11th of May. Everybody is healthy. He's happier than a pig in shit. This is the second time he is a grandfather, and he's younger than I am by 5 years. (He is way too young to be a grandfather... ((He turned 40 on the 10th)) but there it is!).

So, I sit here... sore as hell from Friday night's ass-kicking workout, and loving it! All around me my family is living, loving, and growing... I'm getting fitter and stronger by the day. I learn more and more each day how committed I am to my wife and our marriage by having tests dropped in my path and passing them without a thought... I am somehow gladdened by this... I have never had any doubts at all, but to know that nobody can even turn my eye makes me feel solid and strong in my marriage... which is a fantastic feeling. At work, I have gone from being the new guy, knowing absolutely nothing, and having never worked in the industry to being the person that even the old hands come to with questions... I have learned a great deal in a short time, and have earned their respect somehow, which I was told would be difficult if not impossible... My boss gave me a decent raise to show his appreciation.. unasked for and unexpected.

I am going to go and cuddle my wife up and hold her and kiss her and spend time with her.... here in my little cottage, with the gardens exploding all around, and the kitties curled up here and there making the place feel even more like home.

I have so many blessings to be grateful for... but the one that I am most thankful for is hope. Hope to make my life better, hope to brighten our future. I am strong, and healthy, and smart, and tough-minded, and today I feel as though there is nothing that I can not accomplish so long as I put my mind to it and work hard to make my dreams come true.

Am I a lucky guy, or what??


(Does a Bear shit in the woods??)