I wish I hadn't seen this

HowFatIam
Originally uploaded by deboeuf.

This is me (at 196 pounds), and my dog on Memorial Day Weekend. I ended the trip, and my pre-diet indulgences, with homemade frozen custard that my mom made. On Tuesday, I had a banana, an apple, a small dinner, combined with a very long walk; and I lost 4 pounds. Vacation is 11 weeks away. Can I lose two pounds a week for 11 weeks! You bet I can!

More about the sky-coaster

I remembered that when we were being hauled up to the 200 foot drop off, we were singing "Happy Birthday". . . Pinball was singing "Happy Birthday to me" and Cathy and I were singing his name, and then at the end, I added "And Many More" and Pinball started screaming "Many many many more! Many many many more!" And then we dropped 200 feet!

<:)
Later, Rolf and I went over to Puck and Memae's for dinner. We had such a good time, but, oh my god, is Puck ever mad at me. Here I am, still on an adrenaline high from all the roller coasters and the sky coaster, and I'm just bubbling about how there is no line. . . and Puck says, "Just rub salt in my wounds. You know," she says " you could have called me and I could have just shown up, you know? I could have just told your friends that it was a coincidence. . ."

Oh well. She made me promise that I wouldn't go to an amusement park without her again.

"Right. . ," I said.

She was just kidding, I think.

OH! GREAT NEWS, BY THE WAY! They both got jobs! I can't say where, but they are both very lucky.

Food and Friends

Rolf had scheduled a group from his company to volunteer at Food and Friends on Thursday. My first time volunteering was with his group last year. I jumped at the chance to go again. It's one of many things I always mean to do, but usualy never get around to it.

We were supposed to be there, in DC, at 5:30. Rolf called me in the afternoon, a bit disorganized. He said he had a meeting in Arlington, where I work, and he hoped we could go together. But he wanted to be there at 5:15 since he was the organizer.

I was late to work that day, so I said I didn't know when I could leave. . . but my boss disappeared to an offsite meeting after lunch, so I hit the road at 4:45. I called Rolf twice on his cell phone, but there was no answer.

Well, what would you have done? I waited five minutes, and then I left. By the time he returned my call, I was sitting on the 14th street bridge. It was already 5:15; there was no way to know how long his meeting would go. He's always late anyway, so I figured there was a good possibility that he wouldn't even get there at all. Shit happens. But that is not the whole story. I wasn't looking forward to being with him anyway.

He was mad. He didn't know how to get there, and hadn't printed out directions. So, he's mad at me, and I didn't apologize. I should have, but I have a bad attitude lately. Maybe I shouldn't have. I don't know. It's not like I was looking forward to spending time with him, and I don't really know why it's been difficult lately . . . except that I have not been drunk every day.

Yeah, it's easier to be with him when I am drunk every day. I'm just really mad at him. And it's hard, because we've had some really good times like the wedding a few weekends ago, and working on our garden, and Mom & Dad's garden the weekend before that, and the closing of Ziegfelds (although not a good time per se, I am so glad he was there with me). . . but when you . . . but when I am subjected to 'psychotic bouts of rage', what? twice a year, once a month, every Saturday morning ( I just lose track.) ? and you add to that all the little crap, (like commercials, taking out the trash, my failure to do everything, pots, keys, "what time are we leaving") during which I have to be prepared for it to turn into another outrageous display of impatience and anger, well who wouldn't avoid that? It hurts so much.

And it frightens me. And not in the least, but the most, I am afraid he's going to have a heart attack or a nervous breakdown.

So, "drive yourself" I thought. It was the right thing to do because he was over an hour late getting there. I was half an hour late myself because I got lost. Three volunteers from his group were there already. We chatted for a while, before another volunteer showed up. They asked me where Rolf was, and I said "He's on that road!", indicating the whole neighborhood of roads I'd been lost on.

"Do we want to wait for the rest of the volunteers?" their coordinator asked. Some of the volunteers had been waiting for an hour already, so we said "No".

There were already two other groups of volunteers packaging up meals when we entered the kitchen. Two of us joined the two who were already there, and the rest of our group went back to the delivery area to sort a food donation.

So, I'm there near the end of the assembly line (my job was to pull the completed bags from my left, fold the top down, and push it to my right - it all goes really really fast - it's fun.) Rolf comes bursting in expecting to see his ten people, instead it's all these strangers and me. I just pointed to the back and said "They're back there."

Now, what's odd is that I'm at this table with seven strangers for an hour and a half. They don't seem to know each other either, but they're getting to know one another, chatting. . . and although I was happy, smiling, and amiable. . . I said not one word.

Flight of the Brave

Good Mornin'

I went to Six Flags America last Sunday to celebrate Pinball's birthday. He was in Tommy with me, and then went on to play Jesus in Jesus Christ Superstar. The weather was perfect; clear skies shown on, and cool breezes swept across us, as we ran from one roller coaster to the next. And there were no lines!

Mrs. Walker and several members of the St. Mark's Jesus Christ Superstar, and several Tommy cast members were there too, including the birthday boy who was in both shows.

Well, let me just tell you, the park is gorgeous and only 15 minutes out of DC! I haven't been there since it was just a small water park when I was still in junior high school. And now, wow! It has got nine great roller coasters, and it is just a beautiful park.

There is this "ride" called the sky-coaster. You've seen it I'm sure; it's the sky-diving "ride". I swear, it's not a ride in any conventional sense. Oh my god! Well, Mrs. Walker said that she'd buy the birthday boy a ticket. And he agreed saying that it was less expensive if two or three of us went, and I hollered "I'll go!" And so did Cathy, and Sam, and Mark, . . . but I was first!

Wow! We were so giddy, it was so cool. And that I got to do it with such cool people! Wow! How does this happen to me? I absolutely get to hang with the coolest people.

I can't wait to do it again! Next time it will be with Puck, who absolutely cannot know I did it already.

Once we hit the ground, they said we could go again for just five dollars. In a glance, we conspired to get the discounted tickets and send the others. "We don't have to do it right away do we?" I asked. "You just have to buy the ticket now, and you can go again any time today" So, we bought the ticket for three riders and told the others we had a ticket for them. . . but there were only two that wanted to go. . . "Oh My God," Mrs. Walker said, when she realized it was just Sam and Mark who were going to take the offer. . . "Oh My God," she laughed when she realized that she was going to do it. "Oh My God," she muttered as later they strapped her in the flight suit. And "Oh My God," she screached over and over again as they dropped 200 feet from the top of the ride in to the full swing.

just skip this

Time sure flies. I've been having a ball. Mostly. I wanted to write about all the cooking and parties I've done and had. . . but, oh well, it's too late now. I just couldn't find the story. Anyway,
Our friend Nearly Gay Nick was over on Friday, while Rolf and I prepared for a dinner party we were having on Saturday. I had been running an errand, so it was late when I got home and got started prepping the food – evidently notably without a drink. Rolf and I were working together, cleaning as we went and Nick said:

“Wait a minute. Something’s going on. A non-drinking Vig, a clean kitchen; it’s just freaky!”

But while I was out grilling eggplant, Rolf stopped short of handing me a glass of wine. It was odd.

“Did you want this? Oh, I’m sorry,” he said “Now I feel bad because I forgot that you quit drinking.”

“I didn’t quit. I just stopped being extreme,” I said, taking the glass of cold white wine.

Nick is single, divorced father of a 12 year old daughter. He’s cute too.

I was cooking for Memae's birthday. I made:

Mediterranean Greek yogurt dip w/ blanched asparagus and snow peas, and cucumber spears

Ciabatta w/ remaining marinade for dipping

Composed Salad of:
Prosciuto (paper thin Italian salt-cured ham)
Shredded iceberg lettuce
Buttermilk roasted red pepper dressing
Freshly Roasted Red Peppers marinated with Olive Oil, Balsamic, Garlic, Bay Leaves
Vine Ripe Tomatoes
Fresh Mozzarella
Chiffonade of purple basil
Drizzled with left over marinade

Roasted Fennel

Eggplant Rollotini (Grilled eggplant slices rolled around ricotta, mozzarella, parmesan, basil, garlic mixture, topped w/ marinara) – like stuffed shells

Butterflied Flank Steak – Stuffed w/ Sun Dried Tomato Pesto

Tiramisu – made by Rolf
w/ caramel sauce made by me

Lemoncello & Sparkling Lemonade

So, that was fun. They loved it.

Then, our Straight Man moved out last weekend. I had a dinner party for him, with just SMJ, Tomas, Rolf, and I. I am a great cook, and it was all very simple, and wonderful.

So, whatever. . .

New Years Resolutions

This was written by one of Rolf's co-workers! Ha ha ha!

This time of year, everyone is thinking about how to improve themselves during the coming year. I have decided this is too hard, and I had a better idea.
Instead of giving myself New Years Resolutions to try to improve my life, I decided it was better to give resolutions to other people in my life. Through their efforts, I feel it will be much easier for my life to be improved.

So, this is my list of resolutions that I am assigning to my friends and family:

• Tracy: Obey me more (I haven't actually told her about this one)
• Ron: Embrace your inner man-child
• Dan C.: Be prettier
• Bronwin: Marry a Kennedy
• Phil: Be more British
• Ellen: Embrace Ron's inner man-child
• Doug: Follow dream of becoming interpretive dancer
• Rolf: Avoid bouts of psychotic rage
• Marti: Find a better class of friends and co-workers
• John B.: Speak faster
• Dan N.: Convert to Islam
• Belinda: Accept Jesus as your lord. Or Satan. Whichever.
• Dave: Take up tai-bo
• Mom & Dad: Have more kids (I want a brother)
• Adam: Kick that heroin habit
• Susan: Debunk Ockham's Razor

Now that everyone has their assignments, I feel that if my life does not markedly improve in 2006, it is only the fault of those around me. And before anyone asks, you can not trade.

Avoid bouts of psychotic rage! I guess I'm not the only one to see the Rolf Show.

Istanbul, not Constantinople

Rolf and I have been together for over 24 years. We bought our second house three years ago. Slowly, we’re getting it furnished and decorated. Behind our house there is a park and a mud-puddle named Lake Accotink. We’ve had our dog, d’Ohgy, for eight years. A retired racing greyhound; she turned 10 just last week. We have a couple of room-mates, although they hardly ever seem to be there. Dr. Joe is actually moving out this weekend, so we’ll get our guest room back. And Bemmy, who has been my friend for 26 years, is doing hair for a national tour until this summer. At which time, he will be surprised to learn, I am sure, that he has to find other lodging. Familiarity breeds contempt; he’s gotta go.

And a few people know it too, because I’m a drunk who spouts things that shouldn’t be said. I announced loudly at the Ruthless people party, that his rent was going up by a $100 when he got back from tour, which was the first he’d heard of it. And just after he left, over too many drinks at Puck and Memae's house, I told how we don't even want a roommate; we just offered our house because we thought it could be a platform from which he could launch himself into fame and fortune. But he can't do it. I've stopped believing that he ever will. So, then, why would I have him living with us?

We’ve been cleaning up the basement, showing it off a bit more and telling a few people our plans to put an exercise room or a pool table in Bemmy’s bedroom, and a bar where his desk is. . . Now I’ve just got to get around to telling him, before he hears it from elsewhere. And I really should, before he fritters away every cent he's made. (Don't get me started on his two-week vacation this summer, to meet a chat-room friend who thinks he's sexy, in Istanbul. Oh, but I am started; he weighs nearly 500lbs., so he has to fly first class because he takes up three regular sized seats.) What a waste. He should be singing on an international stage, he should be bigger than Pavarotti . . . of course, he is bigger than Pavarotti, but not in the awe inspiring sense.

Istanbul, my god.

Hooray for the weekend

Well.

Something’s happened. It seems. A switch was turned off. Sort of.

I feel good.

It’s just been two weeks, but for two weeks my drinking has been in check. I had been drinking, oh say, five drinks a night. And just couldn’t seem to stop, until Sunday the 30^th, (I wrote about that the other day.) At the wedding last Saturday, I checked to see if they had any non-alcoholic beer, but they didn’t. So, I let myself have a Mint Julip, and a little wine. But I didn’t even get buzzed, much less sloshed. And I didn’t do anything that I am ashamed of. I usually say something really stupid, or flirt. . .well, I’ll leave it at that.

I made it Sunday – Thursday with out a drink again this week. Thursday night I attempted a bourbon concoction similar to a Mint Julip. . . but Rolf came in and said “I thought you said you stopped drinking” and glared at me. I didn’t say that. Did I? I said I didn’t anyway. But, when he wasn’t looking, I poured it out. “Not on a school night,” I sighed.

Friday was another matter!

Hooray for the weekend!

Pictures from a wonderful weekend

Harper's Ferry Overlook

My handsome man, isn't he cute! That's the Shenandoah River behind him. This is the morning after the wedding. We had such a great time. We held hands as the bridal couple took their vows. When the photographer was going around taking pictures of couples, and wasn't comfortable asking what our deal was, I said "We're together, would you take our picture?" Then later on, she took some more pictures of us in front of the old red barn. Later, we even danced together underneath it's cathedral high ceiling.

After twenty-five years

Two weeks ago, on Saturday morning, I was enjoying the view of the lake while drinking coffee. Rolf finally got up, came in, and was a jerk. At 11:30 AM, he went out to get something from the car, and I poured myself the first shot of the day.

It was a gardening weekend for us. And it was a good weekend. Once he settled in, and I was lightly lubricated, we worked well together beginning the process of transplanting twenty azaleas.

Mom and Dad came to dinner, bringing their truck. We loaded the azaleas before we cleaned up and had dinner. I was embarrassed at how much I was slurring my words together, and wishing that the evidence that I was drunk wasn't in the glass in front of me.

I had to be at church at 8:45 to sing at the early service. I was ashamed at how much I drank on Saturday, and tried "just for today" not to drink. Remember the Sabbath and keep it holy.

Rolf and I hurried to get to my folks house as soon as possible, trying to make some decisions before they got home from church and began giving us their opinions. Rolf and I developed a master plan for their woodland garden about four years ago; we installed it too. We're still trying to create the vision for them that we had in mind.

We created a woodland path dotted with azaleas and hosta. We began a new garden bed. . . with azaleas and hosta . . .and we added a group of azaleas to one other lone bush to make it a more dramatic impact. We worked from 12 - 7 without a break. Rolf, was a trouper. He's had some injury's to contend with, poison ivy behind his left knee, a pulled ligament in his right knee, and a swollen ankle, made it really hard for him to walk. He looked like Fred Sanford.

We had a lovely day. We crashed into bed by 10, exhausted and proud. And I didn't drink. Woo-hoo! A whole day without a drink. It's sick, but it was a small victory.

At 1:30 AM, Rolf woke up bug-eyed and yelling: "Jesus Fucking Christ! My car alarm is going off!" I didn't hear it. Taking out my ear-plugs, I listened for it to go off again, but I didn't hear it. Rolf was in a state of shock. With a litany of "Jesus Fucking Christ" he swore:

that he couldn't believe it was going off again, (Jesus Fucking Christ)
that he had to go outside to disengage it, (Jesus Fucking Christ)
that he couldn't be sure the disengage button was working (Jesus Fucking Christ)
that he wanted to take the car to the shopping center and leave it (Jesus Fucking Christ)
that all the clothes on the guest-room bed were mine, and not his (Jesus Fucking Christ)
that I am a horrible person and should be shot because I left my jeans where his clothes should be (Jesus Fucking Christ)
that I wasn't getting dressed fast enough (Jesus Fucking Christ)

I think I got back to bed at 3 and I had to take three hours of vacation leave on Monday because I didn't go in until 10. Rolf was home when I got home at 4:30, and gave me a tender hug saying: "Thank you for always being there for me."

I don't know how it happened in my head, but I decided that drinking wasn't making me safe from him, so I might as well stop. Drinking, like depression, can start with a reason, and get turned onto it's own self-starting cycle. It was hard, but I made it through the whole work week without a drink. The last drinking break I had was three days in November. This time I had 6 days.

And it was a good week. Just us at home, the picture of domestic bliss really. We had a wonderful weekend in Harper's Ferry, WV - but that's a side story really. Just know that we were great together, we had a wonderful time with each other, and I only drank at the wedding reception on Saturday, and I did not get drunk.

When we got home, we even planned on sex. It had been a long while, because of the poison ivy. It was about 6PM, and he says, you know, "when are we going to have sex again", and I said "We had better drop what we're doing right now and go for it, or else it will suddenly be late, and we'll be too tired. . . yes, we're old, we get too tired for sex." That really depressed him. We didn't do it. I don't know why. I continued with my simple dinner plan, but discovered we were out of eggs, so I had to go the store; dinner ended up being at 9PM. Then I fell asleep.

I wear ear-plugs to sleep, unless Rolf is away, because he snores. It used to be just a bit, but now that he's gained another 30 lbs., it's lounder, more constant, and worrisome. Usually, he's sweet about turning over. Even with ear plugs, we can't spoon with him behind me anymore, because he'll snore right in my ear. You cannot imagine how much I miss sleeping in his arms.

On Sunday night, he said "No."

Weird. I had been asleep, woken by his snoring. I said "Honey, turn over." "No," he said. "You're snoring in my ear" He said, "No. Just move over to the side of the bed." I raised my voice a bit and said "You can not sleep on your side and snore in my ear, move!" And he rolled onto his back.

Of course it made me mad. But with him, I have to get control of my temper and guess what's going on . . . and usually it's the same thing: he's not well. (The car thing from the previous week happened when he was in pain from the poison ivy, pulled ligament, swollen ankle, and sore muscles from the gardening labor.)

When he got home from work I asked him why he wouldn't move. I couldn't have been nicer.

"Honey, it was very weird last night that you wouldn't turn over. Is there something wrong? Do we need to switch sides of the bed again?"

And he yelled at me! I wasn't surprised. Because I knew that (frequently) he can not answer a direct question without reacting as if he was being attacked, I wanted to be sober. So I had not had a drink.

He went on a diatribe stating that laying on his right side when his liver was hurting kept him awake, and that's why he can't get up in the morning, because he doesn't get a good night's rest, and blah blah blah. If you didn't understand English, and you heard him, you would have guessed that he was saying "You fucking idiot, it's your fucking fault . ."

I did not change my helpful demeanor one bit, and said that it's no problem to change sides of the bed, we'd done it before because my shoulder was bothering me, we can switch back. . and that was that. and I did not drink.

Over the weekend, at breakfast in a glass room overlooking mountains, the river valley, and the confluence of the Potomac and Shenandoah Rivers; he looked at me and smiled the happiest smile and said "I am a very lucky man to have you."

"After twenty-five years," I said, "I can tell you for damn sure, that you're right."

The Whining Began on Friday, April 22, 2005.

Happy Belated Blog-iversary to me.

What’s new?

Hmm.

I haven’t had a cigarette since August, and I’ve gained 20 lbs. I am in therapy. I take anti-depressants. I joined a church choir. And although I haven’t had a drink in three days, the first such break since November; I am still a raging alcoholic. Hate my job, and my job still hates me.

I’m having a better time with my partner. I am more likely to stand up for myself toward him without being a jerk myself.

I was nominated for two Best Director of a Musical Awards, and I won one of them. I passed the Shakespeare Class at the Studio Conservatory, but still need to take the Improvisation Class before continuing to Shakespeare II. I had a great time as Mr. Walker in The Who’s Tommy, and an even better time as Frankie in Forever Plaid. I got to sing at the WATCH Awards.

And then there are the drunk episodes. Oy. The things I said. . .

I’m going to do some kind of compilation about being a drunk, and I’m going to consolidated it into one ugly story. . . hopefully before I have another drink! Maybe it will make a difference.

But first – the work I didn’t do has to get caught up, likity split, so I can do the work I’m supposed to do. And I can’t play today . . . damn.

Hi-Ho, Hi-Ho, It’s off to work I go.

Always a Bridesmaid, Never a Bride

Voice-Mail Message. Sunday Night - after a wonderfully exhausting weekend:

Hi Vig.

It’s K. and I want to . . ah . . read you something in this book . . . and, of course I can’t find it . . .

NEW ATTENDANTS ROLES (this is from the Bride's New Book of Etiquette from Bride's Magazine)

The man of honor, brides-men, best woman, and female usher roles. It’s perfectly accepppp . . . oh it’s not r’here but somewhere it says, ah

Some brides choose a man of honor as their honor attendant or a brides-men instead of a bridesmaid when they want to choose a close male friend as . . . in the bridal party

The groom may choose a best woman . . . mahee ma nahchee . . .

These new roles can be incorporated into the most traditional wedding if done tastefully . . .

. . . inform wedding professionals such as photographers in advance that you have non-traditional attendants and assure that they are not left out of photos . . . or inserted . . . into . . by the photographer . . La da da da . . .

Ah. . .and all that kind of stuff . . . usually wears the same attire as the other attendants of his or her sex in the wedding party . . . Um . . . May be announced . . .Ya-da-da.

Should not have to perform awkward duties usually reserved for an individual the same sex as the bride or groom . . . Um. . So on . . so. .

Um, I wanted to talk with you about being my man of honor.

Would you be my man of honor?

Um, It would mean getting a tux to match the other tuxes, but you’d look sharp. . . and so g’. i’a think . . . hahaha. .

So. . .Give it a think! . . .

‘cause I think you’re already going to be doing everything . . . and. . . and . . . um . . .

It’s an idea that fine with Clark. And Clarks’s father’s the one who brought this book that has this in it . . . And we were kind of chatting about it while I read it while they were here . . .

And . . . so!

Give me a call!

Thanks,

Bye.

Delay tactics used: respond by email, screen calls, evade, evade!

I have to call her today.

help.

K.'s story begins here.
Update included here.