Better not Butternut

Woo hoo! I just got my taxes done, and it looks like I am due for a refund.
I debated about paying someone to do them this year, since I’m still on a budget, but finally took them to my accountant. When I first graduated from dental school, I would do my own tax returns. Over the years, with investments and property etc, it just became too complicated. I didn’t trust myself to do them correctly, and the time it would take me to figure them out wasn’t worth it to me. Better to pay someone who knows what they’re doing. It’ll get done faster, and I’ll still get to reap the benefits.

Once I get my refund, I intend to treat myself to a nice dinner in a fancy restaurant. I have been in a bit of a food rut lately, since I’m trying to do my own cooking—and my attempts to expand my dietary repertoire have had limited success. The other day I was browsing through the produce section and saw that they had butternut squash on sale. Hey, I thought to myself, I love butternut squash! I’d never made it before, but there was a sticker on the squash with instructions: “Cut squash in half, remove seeds, and heat until tender.” That didn’t sound too difficult, so I bought one. Never again.

What they neglect to tell you on the sticker is that butternut squash can only be cut in half with a bone saw. I was using the sharpest kitchen knife I had, and doing only slightly better than a monkey trying to cut open a coconut with a plastic spork…..and I have opposable thumbs! I know I spent 45 minutes hacking that stupid squash apart, and as much trouble as I was having, it’s a miracle the knife didn’t slip and hack off one of my fabulous opposable thumbs. Once it was cut open, I still had to scoop out the seeds and cook it. By the time it was all done, I had completely lost my enthusiasm. I decided the next time I had butternut squash, it would be in a restaurant where I could pay someone else to deal with the hassle of cooking it.

I guess the lesson to be learned here is that sometimes in the kitchen, as well as in your finances—it’s better to just pay someone who knows what they’re doing. It’ll get done faster, and you’ll still get to reap the benefits.

Wiggin' Out at the Gym

Something terrible happened at the gym tonight. I ended up on a treadmill beside Smelly Sweaty Guy. This is the guy every gym seems to have who doesn’t feel the need to wear deodorant. I would have moved but there were no other available machines. So my choices were to abort my workout, or tough it out beside SSG. I decided to stay, but I was full of resentment. I may not shower before I go to the gym, but I certainly put on a fresh coat of antiperspirant so I don’t stink up the place. Getting motivated to exercise is tough enough without the negative reinforcement of having to inhale the fragrant fruits of someone else’s armpit glands.

While I was trying to ignore the fact that my nasal hairs were being singed off by the putrid fumes emanating from my neighbor on the treadmill, I reminded myself that human beings didn’t always have an agreeable smell. Deodorant has only been around since the 1880’s. It can’t have been pleasant to be around people before then. Obviously, somebody felt the same way because they invented deodorant. If only the guy beside me on the treadmill had gotten the news.

Happily, for the rest of us personal hygiene has made great strides in the last few hundred years. I remember when the movie “Marie Antoinette” came out, I did some reading about her. One of the things that shocked me the most was what I read about her hair. I always thought the huge beehive hairdos of that time were amazing, especially when you consider the French didn’t have Aqua Net in the 1700’s. Apparently, in the absence of hair spray, lard was used. It didn’t take long for these elegant hairdos to become rancid, and often they would attract vermin like bugs and mice while the women slept. Ladies of the time would carry a special device that looked something like a fondue fork with a bent tip to scratch their itchy heads and perhaps chase off whatever was burrowing around in there. I wonder if Kirsten Dunst would have wanted to play Marie Antoinette if she’d have had to wear one of these five-star roach motels on her head. Lucky for her, in these modern times, it wasn’t necessary.

Life is good now, and if a woman wants to have big, bug-free hair—the technology is in place for her to be able to do it. Unfortunately, if she goes to the gym—she still may have to work out beside Smelly Sweaty Guy.

To Breed or Not To Breed....?

I had a dream last night that I was a daddy. Not the leather pants and paddle type, but the biological kind. I must admit, I’ve been thinking about this for a while now. I’ve just entered my forties (yikes!) and I have to decide if children are something I want to have. I know my parents would love it. I hear them talk about their friends’ grandchildren, and I can tell that they would love to have some of their own. That’s not a great reason for me to bring a human being into the world, however.

I also am at the point where I’m seeing adults from my childhood age into convalescence. Most of them are lucky enough to have children who can take care of them (or at least put them in a home where they can be cared for). I can’t help but wonder what will happen to me in my old age if I don’t have offspring to look out for me. Again, not a great reason for me to bring a human being into the world.

I don’t really feel like I am much of a caretaker. It’s about all I can do not to kill my houseplants. I remember once a good friend of mine left me with her two young children while she ran an errand. She said she would only be out for a few minutes, and the kids were eating so everything should be fine. Famous last words.

Her three year old and I got along great. I could talk to him and he could talk to me and we understood each other. The one year old was a different matter. He let me spoon feed him for a bit, and then suddenly began crying at the top of his lungs. I asked the three year old what mommy did when this would happen and he just shrugged. Thanks, kid.

I tried everything I could think of—making faces, pretending the spoon was an airplane, begging—but nothing was working. I was stumped. So the three year old and I just decided to let the toddler cry while we finished our dinners and stared uncomfortably in the opposite direction.

When my friend got home, she laughed and said the baby just wanted to be held. Honestly that had never occurred to me. Even if it had, I doubt I’d have done that. I was wearing a Burberry shirt, for pete’s sake. That baby had more food on him than in him.

So much for my innate parenting skills.

I do see that there are some rewards in raising children though. My friends who are parents (straight and gay) say it’s the best thing they ever did. Maybe I could find a nice lesbian couple who would do most of the child-rearing, and I could be the cool uncle or step-dad who pitched in every now and then. Maybe if I were in a stable relationship and had someone who could be daddy #2, I would even consider being the custodial parent. Either way, I’d have some help.

I guess what I’ve decided is that I need to bring another human being into MY world, before I start bringing human beings into THE world.

The Date That Never Was

I almost had a date with someone! Before I stopped going to my personal trainer, I had developed a little crush on the guy who had the appointment before mine. He had salt and pepper hair, a decent build for a guy in his 40’s, and a great boyish smile. We had developed this rapport as he was leaving the gym and I was going in. I’d ask him if he’d survived his workout session, and he’d smile, nod and wish me luck. I told my trainer that I thought the guy was cute, but didn’t think anything else about it. I figured once I stopped seeing my trainer I’d stop seeing the cute guy.

About a month ago I got an email from my trainer. He informed me that his cute client had asked about me, and wanted to go out with me sometime on a date. My trainer also passed along the guy’s phone number! Suddenly I was in the hot seat.

After steeling my resolve, I finally called the number. The guy seemed very excited that I had phoned. I asked him out to dinner, and he sighed. It seems he was on the planning committee of the HRC (Human Rights Campaign) and their big fundraiser was this weekend. He asked if we could postpone the date until after the weekend. So I did.

The next week I called again. The guy seemed very excited that I had phoned. I asked him out to dinner, and he sighed. It seems he had a business trip he couldn’t get out of, and he would not be back until late Sunday night. He asked if we could postpone the date until after the weekend. So I did.

At this point I decided it was up to him to get something scheduled. Miraculously, he called me this past Monday night and left a message on my voice mail. He still was looking forward to our date. Okay, I thought. Maybe I was a bit too hasty to write this guy off. So last night I called him back and suggested Thursday. I didn’t hear back from him today. Not a big deal.

Tonight I had a meeting with a friend to discuss some fundraising for the performance theatre of which we are both board members. I walked into the restaurant and who should I see but the cute guy from the gym. I started to walk over, but he saw me and motioned to his ear—he was on his cell phone. Okay, I thought. I’d just sit at the bar until my friend showed up, and wait for the cute guy to get off the phone. Well, the cute guy got off the phone and DIDN’T COME OVER! My dinner companion hadn’t arrived yet, so it’s not like he saw me with someone and thought I was on a date. He just didn’t feel like coming over to talk to me.

Needless to say, I won’t be going on a date with the cute guy from the gym. I have to give him credit though. Usually I need at least one date with a guy before I decide to dump him.

L.A. Story

I went out to L.A. this past weekend to visit some friends. They were going to have a party to allow me to meet some of their single buddies, so I was super excited. Of course after meeting everyone and mingling I made my decision. Turns out the one I liked was the one friend they had to invite to the party but didn’t want me to go out with. He’s cute and a lot of fun to be around, but quite a partier and very much a player. Apparently not relationship material. Oh well.

In happier news, L.A. has an Amoeba Music store. Amoeba is a new & used CD store, and my favorite one is on Haight Street in San Francisco. The great thing about these stores on the West Coast is that music industry people will go there to sell their used discs. A lot of the stuff you find there is out of print, or promotional discs that didn’t get released to the general public.

On this excursion, I found a U.K. promotional single from Courtney Love’s old group Hole. The cd had 2 (two!!!) unreleased songs. Who needs a man when I’ve got super-rare Courtney Love recordings??? I also picked up a Bright Eyes live disc and a free promotional disc by some artist I’d never heard of. All in all, a good spree.

Courtney’s new solo disc, Nobody’s Daughter, was supposed to be released last year, but unfortunately it hasn’t materialized. I’m scared and excited to hear it. Excited because I love Courtney (pun intended) and can’t wait to hear new material from her. Scared because she had sobered up by the time she recorded it. I know that she’s a mother and a human being and that this is the best course for her to live a long and healthy life, but personally I like my rock stars to be f*cked up.

There’s a quote from the British sit-com ‘Absolutely Fabulous’ that goes, “You can’t play rock and roll on a diet of corn, veggie juice, and Linda bloody McCartney’s Tofu Treats.” I couldn’t agree more. Drugs, sex and alcohol don’t make for a long life, but it does make for some great music. Witness Billie Holiday, Jimi Hendrix, Janis Joplin, Pete Doherty, Amy Winehouse, etc. etc. They all were/are emotional and pharmaceutical train wrecks as people, but made/make great music.

So while as a humanitarian I wish Courtney all the luck in the world as she lives the sober life, the music fan in me is going to be skeptical until I hear the new disc. Hopefully she will prove me wrong and the new disc will be awesome. But if it’s not, I know I’m going to wonder if going straight caused Courtney Love to lose her edge.

Whether it’s romantically or musically, I seem to be drawn to the same type of individual. Someone who is quite a partier, very much a player, and not really relationship material.

New Year, New Job

The New Year has brought with it a new job. My friend with the PR company that had given me a few projects to do last year has hired me full time. The pay is not what I was making as a dentist (goodbye, personal trainer! farewell, dual gym memberships and other extravagances!) but I’m grateful for this opportunity. My friend and I agreed that I’d work for him for six months and then re-evaluate. If things are going well, I will stay on. If not, I will leave with six months of great field experience. I should also have a better feel for where I want to go next—back to dentistry or onward to another career. I will say that so far I have not missed the dentistry.

I’d forgotten how mentally draining it is to start a new job full-time. I guess it’s because everything is new and takes your full concentration. The type of work is very different than what I am used to as well. A day at the dental office is very structured—you have appointments set and finite expectations of what you will do in the time given. In this PR office there are usually several projects going at once. You work on one thing for a while, then something else is given to you, or you may have to go back and revise something that you thought you had finished! I’m also learning the software and formats so it’s been doubly challenging. So far I’m enjoying it, though. My friend has also been a great mentor, so that’s fortunate.

For anyone who’s considered making a career change, I do have some advice.

1. Make sure that you’ve saved a financial cushion for yourself, because most likely you will have to start at the bottom of the ladder. This means less pay while you are learning your new trade. Hopefully you will be able to support yourself, but it will be a lot less stressful for you if you know you have some reserves available.
2. Don’t let that discourage you. I was making good money but wasn’t happy. I’d gladly take a pay cut in exchange for some bliss. I still believe that if you love what you do and work hard, the money will eventually come.
3. Use your social connections—friends and colleagues are your best resource. They are much more likely to take a chance on you than a total stranger would be.
4. Feel the fear and do it anyway. You never know until you try. If things work out, great. If they don’t—at least you now know that whatever you attempted is no longer an option. Isn’t that better than always wondering?
5. Don’t burn bridges! If things don’t work out in your new career, you want to be able to turn to the associates in your former career either to hire you back or recommend you to someone who can hire you.
6. Be humble and willing to learn. I was a doctor in my previous job, but in this one I am an apprentice. Taking initiative is fine, but I don’t need to be giving orders quite yet!

I guess that’s all for now. This blog has been great therapy for me, and even with the new job I intend to keep it going. Right now, however, I need to get back to work!

Looking Great in 2008

New Year’s Eve came and went without a love connection, but 2008 appears to be looking up. A straight male friend of mine is taking me to a party this week where he wants to introduce me to some single gay friends of his. Martin Luther King weekend I’m going to L.A. to visit a gay couple, and they are having a cocktail party to introduce me to some more men. Additionally, a high school friend of mine out there is going to recruit some bachelors on my behalf. Apparently, it takes a village to get me laid (apologies to Hillary Clinton).

Lord knows I can’t be trusted to do this on my own. Take tonight for example—I was going to dinner and a movie with a female friend of mine. I figured since I’d be sitting in the dark for most of the evening, a minimal amount of grooming was required. After awakening from an afternoon nap, I simply smoothed my hair down with a wet comb, threw on an old turtleneck sweater and jeans, and headed out. When we got to the movie theatre, the show was sold out. We weren’t interested in any of the other pictures, so my friend suggested we go to a neighborhood restaurant for a glass of wine.

When we got to the restaurant, I was dismayed. The place was loaded with gay men. Add a urinal and it could’ve been a Republican restroom. This wasn’t even a gay or gay owned business. When will I learn that being single is like being a celebrity? You can’t EVER afford to leave the house looking bad. If you’re a celebrity you will run into the paparazzi. If you’re single you’ll run into hot prospects who will see you looking like sh*t and NEVER want to kiss you. How sad that after 40 years I still haven’t learned this.

I guess that will be my New Year’s Resolution. I will NOT leave the house looking disheveled. Even if I’m just walking to the grocery down the street, I will primp. If my dear friends are going to expend effort to get me paired off, I can at least expend some effort to look presentable. And then, once I’ve met my soul mate and pledged my trough—I can totally let myself go.