Give, Even When You Can't

I was listening to NPR as I always do, and there was a reporter out of Haiti who nearly broke down on the air. Finally. It's so rare for a reporter to not be completely professional when broadcasting, and I have to say that I wish it would happen more. After all, how can a human being be witnessing the worst suffering of another human and not be compelled to tears? His near breakdown was so affecting that I "broke down" and donated money to Mercy Corps. Normally I'd say that I can't afford to give as much as I did, but considering the state of Haiti right now, how can anyone afford not to and still consider themselves compassionate? Besides, Partner never gives in these circumstances (and least, he's never told me if he does) so I figure I'm giving for two.

Still haven't heard back about the waitering job. This is one of those circumstances where I'm letting Fate take control. If it were meant to be, it will happen.

Ripping Off the Bears

Played D&D with my friends back east on Saturday. We were supposed to start at 4 pst, which is an hour earlier than our usual time, but because this was the post-holiday gift-giving session, we didn't get started to 6! After writing an email to the group and asking if we could play more, I wasn't too surprised when we ended up playing less. Typical. I also had written a synopsis of our previous session so we wouldn't spend half an hour trying to remember where we were and what we were doing, but turned out that half the group didn't even read it. Ugh! If I didn't like playing so much, I might determine that the frustration doesn't match the enjoyment and quit. As it is, though, I'll put up with the crap just so I can play. It is a good group, after all.

After D&D ended, Partner and I got showered and changed for the Bearacuda bear dance at Rotture (sp?). We first met our friend at the Fox for a couple of drinks and to catch up, but he brought/met a friend there, and he spent most of his time flirting. Oh well. Before we left, we found out that one of the waiters is leaving, so now I'm thinking that I might like to work there part time. I called the owner this morning and am waiting to hear back.

Anyway, after the Fox, we went to the dance. Turned out to be in the warehouse district of SE Portland, in a long, dark second-floor space. After paying our $5 cover charge (rip off!), we made it past the small, loud dance floor and discovered that the "bar" was actually several low tables. Actually, I'm only guessing that that's what they were, since it was impossible to see past the swarms of people trying to get a drink. There were four bartenders, which probably could've been enough, except that there was almost no order to waiting in line; there could've been four lines of people, but there could just as easily have been eight. In any case, it took a long time for Partner to wait and get his drinks. While he was doing that, I was walking one end of the room to the other saying hello to all the guys I knew. Unfortunately, because the music was so loud, about all I could do was say hello.

After Partner got the drinks, we went to the front of the room - technically behind the stage where the DJ was standing - and found an empty space which was probably the official "back-stage area" for the bands that played there. Luckily, not only was the space empty but it was also relatively quiet. We talked and had our drinks, but no one else followed us back there, and we really weren't in the mood to try and mingle in the noisy, crowded space. Finally, we decided we'd had enough and left. From our point of view, the dance was a total bust.

I suppose it would've been better for us if we were in the mood to dance (if the DJ had played anything from the 70's or 80's I probably would have) or if the music hadn't been so loud. Then we could've at least tried to chat with people. More importantly, if they had had a better system for getting drinks (organized queues, more bartenders), we would've wanted to stay longer and have another round. There's a reason why the Double XX dance is the most popular event of the month, and that's because CC Slaughters is a gay bar which knows how to throw a party.

NOLA Rocks (If The Timing's Right)

Partner and I were in New Orleans for the holidays, and overall it was a wonderful trip. Our initial flight to Houston was bumpy but otherwise uneventful. Continental Air provided a small meal, which by itself is something to praise them for. Since American Air provided nothing, and Alaska only gave us a small bag of snacks, I'd say we might try to give Continental more of our business from now on.

We chose NO for no particular reason other than we wanted to travel for the holidays, and Partner had never been there. A few years ago we met a couple of guys here in Portland who own a B&B in NO, so we knew we had a place to stay with some nice hosts. Also, last summer we met a guy in Ptown who is from Baton Rouge, so we knew we'd have some fun with at least one person. Those factors were all it took for us to decide on the trip. (As a side note, we're big fans of Varla Jean Merman and I knew that she is from NO, so I looked up her touring schedule before we left. I saw that she was playing Christmas-time shows in another part of the country, so I didn't think we'd have a chance to see her while there.)

Our time in New Orleans got off to an inauspicious start when we took a cab from the airport. Our hosts told us to call United Cab, but we figured we could just get the next available taxi. Turned out that taxis don't line up at the airport like they do here in Portland; when you leave baggage check, you have to call. We didn't call United Cab but instead took whatever cab was called for us. Our driver was Palestinian (I asked), and we had an interesting conversation about the conditions over there as well as for his family over here. It was fine until he decided to drive a different route than what we were told. He said it was the same way, and we believed him. The problem, as we soon learned, was that when we left the highway, we were not in the same location as we would've been, so my directions to the street were now skewed. On top of that, it was difficult to read the street signs (when there were any), so we didn't know exactly where we were. Our driver insisted we were on the right road and kept driving around looking for the address, but I knew we couldn't have been in the right place. We called our hosts, who tried to tell us how to get there, but we still had trouble. Finally we saw a street name that we recognized, and we tried to tell the driver to take the next left, but he mistook my direction and took that left. Unfortunately, that was an illegal left, and a NO officer was right behind the cab. We were pulled over and had our first (and only) encounter with the local police. The guy was a hick, and after making us sit there for over 5 minutes, our driver was given a ticket. Needless to say, we weren't in a good mood when we finally arrived at the B&B.

We got in rather late on Christmas Eve but hadn't eaten anything for hours, so our B&B hosts took us into the French Quarter for a special Christmas meal. Louisianians are very proud of their creole cuisine and claim that they have some of the best regional food in the country, but Partner was disappointed with his food. Obviously we can't generalize about the food from one meal, but we thought it was strange that our hosts were proud of the dinner when Partner thought it was like cafeteria food.

I won't give the name of the B&B because not everything I have to say is positive, but I don't think it's entirely the owners' fault. In general, the home is beautiful, it has a good location and we appreciated the level of service provided (it wasn't as good as the B&B we stayed at in Ptown, but that one was clearly the best, so a comparison could only be negative). The main problem for me was that I am allergic to dust mites, and I suffered quite a bit in the B&B and specifically in our room. For a couple of days I thought I had a cold, and when I finally figured it out, I ended up shaking out the blankets outside. It helped a bit, but basically I had to deal with a runny nose and itchy eyes whenever I was in the room. The other minor problem with the B&B was the food provided: simple fare of bagels, scones, cereal, etc (your basic carbs) and yogurt. The orange juice was OK, but I wish we had more choices, and I wish the coffee had been stronger and hot (we had to put it in the microwave if we woke up late). The hosts were generally wonderful - especially when they took us around and gave us tours - but the marriage seemed a bit rocky at times and made us uncomfortable (it didn't help that we never got to play with them either).

Christmas Day we went to the movies to see Sherlock Holmes, but since we didn't get there early enough, we ended up seeing Up In The Air. Truth be told, I had wanted to see the latter, so I was quite happy about what happened. The film was great, but I was disappointed in the airport scenes. I had heard interviews with the director who said that he put a lot of time and effort into getting the airport shots just right, but they were all shown in quick cuts, so - even though I was looking for it - I couldn't appreciate the detail.

The B&B is located in the Faubourg Marigny section of the city, but whenever we went out, we walked into the Quarter. We were unimpressed with the gay bars in the Quarter, especially during Trash Disco Sunday. Given the number of people, the reputation of the Quarter, and the name of the weekly event, I expected some wild behavior - or at least some dancing. We went from bar to bar, but nothing "wild" was going on at all. From what we saw, the residents must save their energy for Mardi Gras and Southern Decadence.

Speaking of not-as-wild-as-we-thought, the Phoenix bar was located 3 blocks from our B&B, so most nights we ended up there. Upstairs is their Eagle bar, and that's where men have their "fun." One issue I had with that, though, is that the lights were turned off in most of the space, as if they were ashamed of what they were doing. I want to be in a place where I can see the person I'm fooling around with, and I want to be with people who aren't ashamed to have fun with the lights on. "Daddy" Don was a bartender upstairs, and if it weren't for him, I wouldn't have had quite as good a time as I had. In fact, most bars in NO - gay or straight - were dimly lit no matter what time of day or night. This might be a holdover from pubs in Ireland (during the day they keep their shutters closed to keep out the light), but I found it to be a bit off-putting. Why is a city so famous for its wildness so fearful of being seen?

The one exception to the dimly-lit bar was Le Round Up, a bar in the Quarter that was recommended by an acquaintance (who, as we later found out, hadn't been there in 7 years). We went to Le Round Up in the late afternoon of a wet, dreary day, and inside it felt like an old VFW hall, which is to say that it was a big, square, well-lit room with the bar in the middle. The bartender (who might've been the owner) was a nice older woman but who honestly looked like an old drag queen. She had platinum-blonde hair (a wig?), a low-cut blouse (fake tits?), lots of jewelry and too much makeup. Again, she seemed very nice, but I would've preferred dimmer lighting when looking at her. Most of the other patrons were - for lack of a better term - white-trash guys who were missing teeth and already had too much to drink. The best/worst part of the experience, though, was that there was a young guy across the bar from us who was making out with an old woman. Eww! He looked to be barely 21, while she - despite her dyed black hair - clearly looked like she was at least in her 60's or even 70's. (She could've been a bit younger perhaps, but time, booze and cigarettes had not been good to her.) At one point these three black folks started laughing and calling out to him, and he stopped, but within a couple of minutes they started up again. Why wasn't this bar dimly lit?! We left after one drink, before we decided to claw our eyes out.

One night at the Phoenix we got to talking with Don and a part-time bartender named Doug. Partner told them about our experience that first night with bland creole food, and Doug told us that he worked at a restaurant called Olivier's near the intersection of Canal and Decateur Streets. He invited us to go there for good creole food, and if we showed up on any night but Wednesday, he would give us free wine. Wouldn't you know but the one night we could've gone was Wednesday. We never did see Doug again after that first night, and I regret that we didn't get a chance to eat there or to thank him for the offer. I think it was Tuesday when we walked from one end of Bourbon St to the other, and when we started back on Decateur, we found the restaurant. It was at that time that we stopped in an Irish pub for a $5 Guinness (when did the price get to 5 bucks?!), and inside was a sign which read, "The Best Fucking Irish Pub in the World." I had to laugh. Don't they think the best Irish pubs are probably in...I don't know...IRELAND. Besides which, in my humble opinion, it had to be one of the worst. The bartender was surly, there were way too many tv's, the Guinness was over-priced and not poured well, there was no food, and there was no real ambiance. Again, we left after that one drink.

It was a few days later on the morning of New Year's Eve when I discovered that there was a statue of Ignatius Reilly, the main character from A Confederacy of Dunces, on Canal Street in front of the site of the old department store where the character almost got arrested (the store is now a hotel). Even though I brought 3 books with me and bought a 4th in a used book store, the B&B had a copy of A Confederacy of Dunces so I ended up reading that during the week (I originally took the book from the living room so that Partner could read it, but the only thing he ever reads is the internet). I told Partner that I wanted to walk across the Quarter to take a picture of the statue, and he agreed to go with me. Luckily it was a warm, sunny day, so we were only dressed in t-shirts as we walked along the river and through the Quarter. This is salient only because I was wearing my "W" t-shirt with a picture of Josh Brolin on the front posing as George W Bush with his middle finger up (it must be from the movie, but I haven't seen it yet). The city was filled with folks down for the Bowl games, and time and again I got nasty looks from people who looked at the shirt and didn't like the image of Bush giving them the finger. When I got dressed that morning, if I had known I'd be walking the streets in just a t-shirt, I would've worn my Varla Jean t-shirt, but this reaction made it all OK. Long story short (too late), we walked all that way only to discover that the statue had been removed a few days before! Apparently, someone tried to steal it and, in the process, damaged it, so the hotel put it in storage until the end of Mardi Gras. Damn our bad timing!

That afternoon was a party at the B&B. Many times during the year for special occasions, our hosts throw a party at their B&B and invite mostly Bears for the event. We knew about the party ahead of time and looked forward to it, but again we were a bit disappointed. We expected a rowdier time, but it was mostly people flirting with no follow-through. We ended up meeting our acquaintance from Baton Rouge and fooling around with him while the party was still going on, but even that was a bit disappointing, especially for Partner. Turned out that we had both remembered this guy slightly differently, so we didn't even recognize him when we first saw him. Let's just say his figure was a little more pear-shaped than we had remembered.

That night we went to the Phoenix for our New Year's Eve celebration, but even with Daddy Don tending bar, the place was pretty lame. Sometime after 11 we decided to check out JohnPaul's, another gay bar located across the boulevard from the Phoenix. What's funny about this is that, from the first day we arrived, our hosts kept telling us about this bar that was Bear-owned but which catered to a lot of drag queens (mixed signals from them), but we never had a clear idea of where it was. Turned out it was literally across the street, we just never noticed it because we either went in to the Phoenix or turned left at that corner and never looked across the way. (To our credit, there was no sign out front, which was similar to a lot of bars in the Quarter; you either knew which bar you were going to, or you had to ask.)

As it happened, JohnPaul's was the place for us to be. Despite our love for Varla Jean, we're not huge fans of drag shows; I don't get the appeal of older men wearing dresses and too much makeup badly lip-syncing to songs. For me, what it comes down to is talent: if the person actually impersonates a woman well, looks good, can actually sing (or at least lip-syncs without mistakes) and is witty (Poison Waters in Portland fits the bill), then I think drag can be fun. ANYWAY, despite the drag show that started just before midnight, we enjoyed ourselves because the crowd at JohnPaul's was full of energy and high spirits. We got drinks served in real glass (as opposed to plastic cups) and we got a free glass of champagne for the toast. Also, we met an older guy named Denny who turned out to be really easy to talk with. After midnight, the three of us went upstairs to one of the many empty rooms, found a couch and talked for quite a long time. It was a pleasant, low-key way to bring in the new year.

New Year's Day we attended an annual brunch hosted by Matt and Dusty. They are two great guys who have a fabulous house, and apparently we were lucky to get the invite. Matt actually invited us after flirting with Partner online for weeks. What's funny about that is, despite the flirting and our being in the city for a week, they never made an effort to get together with us outside of the brunch. You'd think after all that flirting there'd be an attempt to hook up, but no. They were even at the B&B party the day before, but no indication was given that they wanted to join us in our room. Oh well. As I said, the house was gorgeous, and the food was wonderful.

We were driven to the house by a friend of our hosts named Alex. Alex was at the party the day before, then showed up at the B&B again that morning. When we told him we were going to the brunch, he offered to drive us because he had been invited too. After leaving the brunch fairly early, on our way back to the B&B Alex gave us a mini tour of the Faubourg Marigny neighborhood. He pointed out a bunch of places we never saw because we had always gone towards the Quarter. Finally, as we pulled up to the B&B, Alex said that they also had a minor celebrity in the neighborhood who lived just 6 houses or so away from the B&B. He then asked us if we knew Varla Jean Merman! I answered by unbuttoning my dress shirt to reveal the Varla Jean t-shirt underneath.

Again, damn our bad timing! Wouldn't you know that on our last day we'd find out that we were staying half a block from Varla. Two things were funny about this: 1) in all the tours that our hosts had given, not once did they mention this, and b) not Alex nor our hosts could remember exactly which house was hers. Partner and I went out and, like a couple of starry-eyed fans, took pictures of the three houses that might've been hers. Anyway, once we told our hosts that we liked Varla, one of them told us that he saw Jeff (Varla's alter-ego when not in drag) at the neighborhood coffee shop just the other day. Arg! To be honest, I have no illusions about meeting Jeff and suddenly becoming his BFF, nor do I know exactly what I would've said, but it sure would've been nice to meet him!

After taking pictures of the houses, Partner and I came back to the B&B and met up with Alex again. After some heavy flirtation on his part, we invited him back to the room. We fooled around, but he was not into Partner at all, to the point where Partner got up and left. I found out later that his feelings were really hurt by this, so I felt bad - especially since the sex wasn't all that great. (Sorry, Alex, but it's true.)

That evening we met up with Denny, and the three of us went to a local creole-Italian restaurant not too far from the B&B. The food was great except that the garlic bread was very garlicky, which made the rest of the evening uncomfortable for me always worrying about my breath (it tasted great, though). After the meal, we walked back towards the B&B. When we got to the Phoenix, Partner said he was going in, and if I wanted I could show Denny our room. Admittedly I wasn't feeling totally turned on at that point, but I decided to take Denny back anyway. For the second time that day, I felt bad about leaving Partner out of some fun. Unfortunately, for the second time that day, the sex wasn't all that great because Denny was having trouble. I told him not to worry about it, and we went back to the Phoenix to meet up with Partner.

New Year's night was the New Orleans Bears' beer bust, so after an hour or two, a lot of handsome men filtered into the bar. It was nice meeting a lot of them, but many of them were a bit too "nellie" for us - like heavy, bearded women. Also, they were quite flirtatious, but at least one of them was so shy that he wouldn't even show off his belly (which is like a handshake for Bears), and none of them were willing to do anything without going upstairs to the dark room. At one point Denny left, then later this very handsome older guy came in. I was very attracted to him, but I figured he was way out of my league, so I didn't try to pursue it.

Partner and I left where we were sitting among the Bears and went to stand by ourselves at the video poker machines. Soon the handsome guy came over to use the machine and said something about probably not winning with just his two dollars. We started chatting after that, and we found out that he and his partner own another B&B in the Marigny. We continued chatting, and it became obvious after a short while that he was actually into me! At one point, Partner left us alone, and soon after that, he and I went upstairs to consummate the flirtation. He said later that he only put money in the video poker as an excuse to get close to me. Talk about an ego boost! He invited Partner and I back to his B&B for a soak in his hot tub, but we refused. It was getting late, we were getting tired, and we had to get up early the next day for our flight. Why did that have to happen on our last day?!

Life's Too Short To Eat Bad Chocolate

Partner bought boxes of chocolates to give as gifts to the neighbors and my folks. The boxes look fancy, with the sophisticated-sounding name "Haviland." However, also printed on the box in smaller letters is the name Necco. Anyone familiar with Valentine's Day candy is familiar with the name of Necco. That is the company - based in Massachusetts, by the way - which makes all those heart-shaped candies with little sayings printed on them. Now, anyone who has tasted those littles candies - or anyone who has tasted Necco wafers - will know that the company is not really known for its quality. After all, who among us has popped one of those hearts in our mouth and marveled at how wonderful they tasted? I'm willing to bet: no one. The only reason why anyone chooses to buy them is for the novelty of the sayings, not for the flavor of the confectionery.

With that in mind, we opened one of the smaller boxes of chocolates to try. Sure enough...bland. The chocolate does not taste special in any way, and the fillings taste like they're not made with any natural ingredients at all. My advice: avoid the Havilands. They are not worth the cheap price you pay. Better to pay more and get better chocolates, I'd say, especially if they're gifts.

If Necco wants to do itself a favor, they should spring for better ingredients and hire a confectioner who knows what s/he is doing.

Murder on the Bay Bridge

Partner and I went out last night to the Fox and had dinner with a couple of friends. One of them clearly had a cold (or at least showed signs of having a cold), but I gave him the benefit of the doubt. Why would he be out if he knew he were contagious? Today, I feel a cold coming on. Damn him!

In the last few days I've been adding the images of cd covers to my iTunes. I used to have them all, but between my iPod dying awhile back and my computer dying more recently, I'd lost most of the images. Now I've got almost all of them done in my computer, but I'm missing a few that I just can't find doing a Google Images search. A couple of them I understand why: they're most likely bootleg editions of cd's that I bought in Japan. However, one is really puzzling to me. I have a compilation cd called "Sixties Girls" from a UK label called Crimson Productions, and for the life of me I just can't seem to find an image of it anywhere. Except for a couple of mentions I've found, it's like it doesn't even exist. This wouldn't be quite so vexing to me except for the fact that my iPod has the image, which means that I obviously found it before. Ugh!

Partner and I spent Thanksgiving week in California. As we usually do, we flew into Sacramento (a lovely, small airport) and rented a car. We spent the first part of the week at his cabin in the foothills of the Sierras. We did this so we could visit his ailing sister in Gridley, which is only about 45 minutes away. Other than that, we spent most of our time watching Firefly on dvd. Thanksgiving day we met up with his sister at their second-cousin's house not too far from the cabin. Even though the cousins live fairly close, they don't get to see Partner's sister very often; in fact, they hadn't seen Partner in 38 years! So, even though they were technically "family" for Partner, it was really as if they were strangers. I've told lots of people this already, but it felt as if we picked a house at random, walked in and told them we were there to celebrate Thanksgiving. All in all, the family was rather nice, and they provided us with good food and wine, so you won't hear any complaints from me. At least, not about that.

As soon as we finished eating, Partner and I drove down to San Francisco. I made Partner drive because he knows the city better, but I forgot that it takes almost 3 hours to get there. I felt bad about him driving all that way, but ultimately I'm glad it wasn't me. When we got to the Bay Bridge, they didn't have enough toll booths open for the number of cars trying to make it into the city. The worst part is, they had a terrible system for the traffic lanes, and by the time we made it through the tolls, I was ready to KILL.

Here's the sitch: some of the booths take cash, and above them is a green light. The booths that were closed had a red light, and the booths that just took the electronic payment had no light at all. We were on the right side of the highway as we approached the tolls, and ahead of us we could see one or two green lights on the far right, three red lights to the left of them, one green next to that, then a whole series of no lights in the middle, then one or two more greens on the far left. We obviously couldn't get to the left from where we were (even though that traffic appeared to be moving), and we didn't have the transponder to pay electronically. Instead of moving all the way to the far right, we somehow ended up in the line for that isolated green between the closed lanes and the speeding lanes for no cash. And that, as it turned out, was the worst lane of all.

What happens on the Bay Bridge is this: the non-cash lines are usually wide open, so people speed up to them and pass through. When there is a cash-only lane next to the non-cash lanes (which was the line we were in), ASSHOLES will speed down the non-cash lanes and then try to merge into the cash-only lane at the last minute. This causes problems for the people in the non-cash lanes because they suddenly have to slow down or stop while waiting for the ASSHOLES to merge. This also causes a problem for the people in the cash-only lane because they've been waiting in line like they should, only to be "cut off" by the ASSHOLES who skipped the line. It is so aggravating that some people who are waiting in line are tempted to leave the line and either drive across speeding traffic to get to the left, or they skip a few cars and merge back into the line they just left. This actually happened a few cars in front of us, except that when the car left our line, it collided with an approaching car that was speeding down the non-cash lane. It wasn't a bad accident, but it clearly showed what happens to people when they're stuck in a bad situation.

What was worse for us that night: because we were in a line that had the non-cash lanes to our left and closed lanes to our right, we had people skipping ahead on both sides and trying to merge into our lane. Partner is a patient man and didn't seem to notice, but I was a complete wreck. There were times when we weren't moving at all because people who came from behind us got in our line ahead of us. Believe me, if I had had a gun that night, there would've been some casualties! It was so bad, that I was thinking that I never wanted to visit San Francisco again; nothing in the city could be worth what we had to put up with that night. (Believe it or not, I can feel my blood pressure rising just thinking about it, and it happened more than a week ago.)

I have to say, the rest of the long weekend in the city was nice, but it may have been all the Capt Morgan's Rum I had to drink to help forget about the bridge. A highlight was seeing my cousin and his fiancée at their new apartment and eating a home-made meal of salmon and rice. Except for the Thanksgiving dinner, that was about the only time we've gotten to eat a home-made meal while traveling. Another highlight was spending Saturday afternoon in Berkeley; yes, we had to brave the bridge again, but this time we only had to deal with blustery winds. And the afternoon activities made it totally worth it. After the winds blew through, San Francisco experienced beautiful, summer-like weather, so we were definitely spoiled the rest of our time there.

Since returning home, I've decided to give up drinking for awhile. The skin on my cheeks is really red, so I'm thinking it might be good to detox for a little bit. I'll have plenty of time to "retox" once we go to New Orleans for Xmas and New Years.

Lately Partner has had to deal with a troubling woman. In describing her to me, he said,"She looks like she got her pussy caught in a toaster." Brilliant!

Screenplay Away!

Clearly it does take me a long time in between posts, so I'm no longer surprised.

Actually, I haven't written in days because I am now earnestly working on a screenplay. I got the idea and started it months ago, but I hit a snag with the plot. Then, of course, was the whole drama with my computer. Luckily, I was able to copy what little I had produced on to my other laptop, so now that I've resolved the problem, I'm able to begin again. I don't have the screenplay format yet, but I'm barreling ahead just so I can get all the words out. Later I'll go back and put in more of the directions and in the proper format.

I'm not going to say what it's about, but I will say that it's a gay horror/comedy, or something like that...

Odds and Ends

I can't believe it's been so long since I last posted. So much going on...why haven't I written any of it down?

Before the rain kicked in a few weeks ago, we finished painting the outside of the house and built a trellis-type screen for the deck. Partner did a beautiful job, it's just too bad that we won't really be able to use the deck for a few months. He and I are similar that way: we eventually get around to doing what we want/need to, it just might take longer than it should. Now we've got a contractor working on a small extension to the house, and when he's finished with that he'll put in the new windows. Again, not the best timing (we should've hired him and got this done earlier in the year when it was warmer), but hopefully everything will be done before we go to CA for Thanksgiving.

Our big travel plans will be for Xmas - New Year's when we go to New Orleans. A few years ago we met a couple of guys who own a B&B down there, so we're staying with them. It should be a blast. Hopefully we'll get to see my family in February when everyone meets up in Orlando during the kids' spring break. It'll be wonderful to see Disney World through their eyes.

Lately I've lost one of my volunteer jobs. I was volunteering on Wednesdays at EarthShare to help out a friend, but that friend got unexpectedly fired. Needless to say I was conflicted: I wanted to be loyal to the friend and stop working, but I also believe in the mission and wanted to continue helping. I opted to stop, primarily because of the house painting and because going downtown was a bit of a pain. Mainly, though, it was because I found out the director wasn't treating me right. My friend took me out to lunch almost every time I was there, and I assumed that he was getting at least partially reimbursed; after all, my work helped the company, not just him. After he got fired I asked him point-blank if the director ever volunteered to help pay for my lunch, but he said no. I know it might sound a bit petty, but really it's a bigger issue: why didn't the director realize that she should make even a small gesture to thank someone who was donating his time and energy (and train fare) to help her out?

I always assumed that people who work for non-profit, charitable organizations must be that special kind of person who is nice, caring, generous and good-hearted. (I used to think that about public-school teachers too, but after having worked as a teacher, I realized that that was wrong.) I guess I shouldn't have been too surprised, then, when I learned that my assumption about non-profits was also wrong. The director of EarthShare, for example, not only never thought to say thank you to me by offering to buy lunch, but more importantly she fired my friend in a very discourteous way. Furthermore, while working at EarthShare, I learned that the local director for the United Way was also an ass. Who knew that the United Way would try to "muscle out" other charities? It sounds like the United Way mafia!

My other volunteer job is for the Feral Cat Coalition. I started by answering the phone one day a week and helping out in the clinic a couple of Fridays each month. I then agreed to help the volunteer coordinator by aiding her in scheduling the vets and techs for the clinics. A couple of weeks ago, she unexpectedly quit. (This actually followed a long-time volunteer who quit, but that was slightly less surprising since she was doing so much, burn-out was inevitable.) When we talked to her about why, she said it had somewhat to do with the other paid staff. Apparently, the director seems to be more concerned about raising money from the beautiful people of Portland than she does about making sure the volunteers (who run the clinics) are happy or respected. Again, I was conflicted because I work in the office and never had any trouble at all from the director, but I also like the volunteer coordinator and don't doubt that her opinion is valid. (I also heard horror stories about last year's charity ball, when the volunteers were treated very badly. Ugly.) And yet again, here is another person working for a non-profit, charitable organization whose behavior towards volunteers is at least questionable. So much for my idea about these people being saints!

With the volunteer coordinator stepping down, I've had to increase the number of vets/techs that I'm supposed to call in order to fill the clinics. I had no idea this job would take so much time! Getting vets and techs to agree to volunteer for the clinics is like - if you excuse the pun - herding cats. Quick example: yesterday morning I got an email from a vet asking if I received her email. I hadn't, so this email was a surprise. (Because this particular email went right to my inbox and even had her name correctly labeled, I assume that nothing went technically wrong with her previous email. I can only assume that I hadn't received it because something went wrong at her end...like maybe she never actually sent it.) Anyway, I replied to her that I hadn't received it. She wrote back last night saying that she could do a clinic on Nov 15th. I wrote back to her confirming that she was scheduled at such-and-such a time on that day. This morning she writes back saying she has a conflict on that day with one of her kid's activities and can't make it.

Huh? Didn't she know about that last night? Now I'm (sort of) sure everything she said was true, but it all seems vaguely suspicious and really just a waste of time.

I know I'm beating a dead horse, but I had really felt that people who volunteered to help an organization did so because they really wanted to help. It's just so unprofessional and discourteous when these same people can't be bothered to return an email or a phone message. I don't want to keep calling and become a pest; I'm not doing the organization or myself a service by doing that. Instead, I'd just like everyone to be courteous and professional. Is that too much to ask?