Thursday, October 28, 2010

An Election That’s Out of This World

Every election cycle seems more excessive than the last. Candidates are more extreme. Commercials are increasingly outrageous and definitely more prolific. The public appetite for "change" is huge. Does anyone remember that the politicians they want to change away from in 2010 are the same ones they voted in just two years ago in the name of change?
Don't even get me started on the Constitution. Like the Bible, the Constitution is occasionally dusted off and conveniently re-interpreted in order to fit the immediate purposes of the user. Many of the obnoxious Tea Party people who want to "go back" to the constitution don't even know what's in it.
Ken Buck, Republican candidate for U.S. Senate here in Colorado, is all for the Constitution but is not in favor of the separation of church and state.
Huh?
Christine O'Donnell, running for Senate in Delaware, seemed genuinely surprised that the most sacred of our national documents contained such a clause.
Another odd thing about this election is that, in spite of a national tsunami of Tea Party activism, the TP (pun intended) chosen candidate for governor of Colorado (I can’t even remember his name) is trailing in third place, behind Democratic Denver Mayor John Hickenlooper and the American Constitution Party candidate, famous anti-immigrant, and let's face it, racist, Tom Tancredo. Guess which one I'm for.
But the most stunning thing I've seen this election season was the one that caught me off guard as I filled out my mail-in ballot last weekend.
Initiative 300 reads:
"Shall the voters for the City and County of Denver adopt an Initiated Ordinance to require the creation of an extraterrestrial affairs commission to help ensure the health, safety, and cultural awareness of Denver residents and visitors in relation to potential encounters or interactions with extraterrestrial intelligent beings or their vehicles, and fund such commission from grants, gifts and donations?"
Ok, my first observation is that it really is much too easy to get just any preposterous notion on the ballot. But this goes above and beyond.
I might expect such an initiative in a wacky place like San Francisco or even nearby Boulder, but here in the Mile High City where most of us live in "the real world"? I thought I’d seen it all when at least three marijuana dispensaries popped up within walking distance of my house.
Denver has its whimsy. There's a giant two-story tall blue bear, for example, looking into a window outside the convention center. Our local airline, Frontier, features a different animal character on each plane, every critter marketed with a distinct name and personality. And while we're at the airport, you may have noticed that instead of a regular roof, the terminal is topped by what looks like a circus tent.
But extraterrestrials on the ballot?
Local officials are embarrassed. Some fear it will scare away businesses looking to relocate. Apparently they think the big blue bear attracts business, but ET scares business away.
Personally, I don't see the harm. No public funds will be used. And isn't any publicity for the city good publicity? If I were in a colorless, depressing metropolis back east and looking to relocate, I think I'd be attracted to a whimsical town out west that has the imagination to anticipate possible contact with life from other worlds.
So I voted YES on 300. And while I’m at it, perhaps I'll make sure the guest towels are ready, just in case a little green alien stops by.

Sunday, October 17, 2010

Here’s to Another Wild Weekend

Sunday Morning – I can’t move. I’ve stayed in bed long past the usual time. My head is pounding. The cats knock things over to get me up. Their breakfast is overdue. It’s 6:30 a.m.

You see, I stayed out much later last night than normal. I imbibed substances my body isn’t used to and I indulged in entertainment usually only enjoyed by a whole different strata of society.

It’s not that I did anything illegal. I was simply invited by some good friends to a fund raiser for the Rocky Mountain Arts Association.

The evening featured lots of movers and shakers, artists and patrons, Lesbians in all their finery, and gay men who probably spent hours getting that casual put-together look just so. Many were drinking wine and engaging in sparkling conversation. The highlight of the evening was a monologue delivered by Leslie Jordan, one of Hollywood’s most outspoken and notorious gay comic actors. You may remember him as Beverly Leslie on Will and Grace, or Brother Boy (channeling Tammy Wynette) on Sordid Lives. There was even a silent auction whereupon I bid, but didn’t win, a lovely hand-sculpted vase.

I made several trips to the bar and drank copious amounts – of club soda and diet coke. The worst things I consumed were scallions wrapped in bacon, runny brie baked in a flaky pastry, and little fruit tarts with the crust dipped in white chocolate (not my finest Weight Watchers hour …).

And the most shocking thing of all: I didn’t’ get home until almost 11:00.

What has happened to me?

Friday and Saturday nights used to be time out on the town. I never got home before 11:00.

In those days, it was only right to have some fun after a week of hard work. With Saturday and Sunday looming as relatively free days during which I could recover, I could stay up late and "PAR-TAY."

Most of the world seems to continue in this way. One only need venture down to LoDo, the district in Lower-Downtown Denver where every weekend, brew pubs and coffee houses are crowded to the point of overflowing. Partiers clog the sidewalks and horse-drawn carriages clop down the 16th Street Mall as taxis and pedestrians try to cross.

Or so I've heard.

I haven't been to LoDo after dark for maybe five years. And then I was only leaving Coors Field before the game ended so I could beat the traffic.

Nowadays, by the time I get home from work on Friday afternoon, I'm too tired to even think of going out. As I fold back the comforter around 8:30 p.m., I recall my youth when friends and I didn't even leave for the bars until 10:00. After last call several hours later, those of us who weren't lucky enough to hook up would head to breakfast at the White Spot, a 24-hour diner populated by drag queens which long ago disappeared under some of those fake new lofts in the Golden Triangle along Broadway.

Now, if I'm not too sleepy, I'll watch some recorded Science or History Channel documentary on my DVR until about 9:30 when I can no longer hold my eyes open. It's a good bet I'll be fast asleep by 10:00.

About 5:00 a.m., when in the old days I'd just be getting home (mine or someone else’s) to plop into bed, I now stretch, throw back the covers, and rise to feed the cats. The most thrilling part of the weekend is beating the crowds at King Soopers before the sun comes up.

I don't date much these days and I can't help but wonder if, in part, it's because I go to bed so early. If I force myself to be out at the bewitching hour of 8:30, my dinner companion observes me as I yawn widely, rub my eyes excessively, and jerk my head back suddenly as I fight off sleep. It's usually no reflection on him.

I suppose I’m just getting older. But I wouldn’t mind, say, a breakfast date every now and then.

There must be other single, middle aged gay men who engender the "early to bed, early to rise" lifestyle, but I can't figure out how to find them. They don’t hang out at King Soopers early in the morning, that’s for sure.

Friday, October 1, 2010

Lighter and Tighter – The Continuing Saga of a Middle Aged Man’s Quest for Physical Fitness

Why did I wait until so late in life to get into shape? Until recently, I never lifted a weight or performed a curl. The last big rubber ball upon which I balanced tenuously was a bouncing Romper Room toy with a rubber strap.

My new personal trainer, Rick, asked me at our first session what sports I played in high school. "Um," I stammered. "Piano?"

Rick has to teach me everything, I mean everything, from scratch. I don't know a crunch from a hole in the ground. When he says, "chin-ups," I break into a cold sweat - PTSD from high school when without any instruction or direction, we were told to do chin-ups, the number of which would determine our grade. I never did one. Not one. Looking back at "physical education" in school, I remember a lot of physical, but not much education. 30-some years later, in my advanced middle age, I am finally learning from Rick about correct posture, how my body works, and what is connected to what.

Rick is demanding, but also shouts encouragement and praise.

He is always yelling things like, "elbows in," or "shoulders back;" but most of all, it's "work your core."

The idea is - well, I'm not sure what the idea is, but I trust there's a good reason for it.

I've become very mindful of my core. Yesterday I had a little allergy attack. As I sneezed, I told myself to "sneeze from the core." When I empty the dishwasher, I concentrate on "lifting and reaching from the core." As I throw the trash bag over the edge of the dumpster, I'm "activating my core." I also think about my core during other, more personal activities.

Something must be working because I'm seeing results. My posture is better. I feel "tighter" around the middle. I've discovered muscles in my back. Today I felt a big muscle in my leg I've never felt before. For the first time in years, I can feel the bones in my butt when I sit down.

With the intense combination of working out and rigorous adherence to Weight Watchers (trademark R), I've lost 30 pounds since mid-July. Yea for me!

There are downsides to my healthy regimen. Getting up at 4:30 a.m. for personal training makes me tired and cranky. When I fainted on Rick one morning, he lectured me about the importance of eating before working out, necessitating the need to get up even earlier.

It is true that Weight Watchers is not a diet as much as a lifestyle. I can eat anything I want as long as I count it in my daily food budget. But realistically, there are some things I just don't eat. If having a brownie means I get less at dinner, I'll usually skip it. I crave chocolate chip cookies but limit myself to two every other week. I haven't ordered Papa John's pizza since I don't know when. DQ blizzards are few and far between.

I can't even be in the same room as potato chips. One serving is about 15 chips. Please! That's just a handful. If I open a bag, all contents are devoured instantly. At a party recently, a large buffet was spread across a counter, prominently featuring several open bags. In a cold sweat, I had the impulse to call my sponsor - something I could do if I was in Overeaters Anonymous, which I'm not. So I left the party, went to King Soopers, purchased some low fat popcorn, and returned to the party.

Hey, anyone who knows me knows I can't do this without drama.

The biggest challenge of getting in shape is staying that way. I hope to not be one of these people that loses the same 50 pounds over and over.

Can I keep it up (or down as the case may be)? The suspense is building: Will I buy another ten sessions with Rick or start working out on my own? How long can I avoid a hot fudge brownie sundae at Dairy Queen? Will I give in to one of those nacho Tuesdays at the office cafeteria? Will I ever again have the taco platter at Little Anita's (it's about two days worth of Weight Watchers points)? Can those low-cal ice cream bars really be any substitute for a “gotta have it” at Cold Stone Creamery? How will I cope with the coming holidays - all the cookies and the frosting and my sister's mashed potatoes with sour cream?

Stay tuned for updates.

At the moment, however, I’m going to go lie down. I’m feeling a little faint.



For some previous entries about my “getting into shape” saga, click on the links below.

Yoga for the Round and Stiff

Fitness Newbie Surrounded by Experts

Least Likely Passtime