Spo-Shirt Homecoming

 

The Spo-Shirt Charity Tour is concluded. 

Tony sent it to Cameron and James (the dears!) in California, who sent it to ‘home’ to Larry A.K.A Cubby, whose brain-child it was. He texted me on Saturday to say the shirt and journal arrives in PA safe and sound.  He will keep the shirt as a much appreciated thank-you.

The Shirt of Shirts went out on 9/9/2010; it finished it travels on 5/26/12 – 1.5 years later!  Who knew?  It visited 37 people (and a few dogs). It raised $370 for The Humane Society, Test Positive of Chicago, Doctors without Borders, and The Prostate Foundation.

I had an enjoyable time tracking its Journey, which included  the USA, Canada, Australia, England, France, Spain, and The Netherlands.   It lead me to new bloggers – hi Mitchell and Jean! – whom I would not have ‘met’ otherwise.  The photos are here at Spo-Reflections on a separate page (see the header bar ).

 The shirt was my “Mrs. Harris Goes to Paris” adventure.  In this story a char saves up enough money to go to Paris to buy her one and only expensive dress, A “Dior” if I am not mistaken.  In the end she realizes the dress was not really the point; it was the adventure and frienships it provided her.

 

There is one last thing.  Cubby and/or I will somehow up on-line the Journal that traveled with the shirt. I want to share this as well. Then he will mail it to me: Cubby gets the shirt, but I get this treasure.

I suspect I will count it as one of the most precious objects I will ever have.  Stay tuned !

 

Thank you all, for being part of this and giving me such a wonderful thing.

Memorial Day Musings

This weekend is the anniversary of my great (many times) Grandfather William Spo coming to America. He moved from England in 1630 and came to Dorechester Massachusetts.  He was a deacon in the Puritan church. The family documents state he was ‘in charge of the three cowes” .

 

Thirteen generations later, his descendent Urs Truly moved from Michigan in 2005. He came to Phoenix Arizona. My documents (journal) convey I was in charge of the two cats. I hope the cowes made their journey with less fuss than the two cats.

 

I think this means I have been in The Southwest for seven years. How did seven years fly by so soon?

Every Memorial Day weekend I pause to think about Deacon William and family traveling the Atlantic hoping to make a new life in New England. I also contemplate on my life here in the Southwest. It has been a marvelous adventure, if not always a marvelous party.  I have gotten used to the  blistering summers. I regret I haven’t made many lasting local chums.  I rather like the scenery; I don’t care much for Phoenix.

 

There is no overt celebrations or events this Memorial Day weekend. I have a long list of to-do chores and house projects.  It will be dull but pleasant nevertheless.

 

I hope my ‘new year’ is the best one yet.

Walking the Dog

It is the time of year when walking the dog is best done after sunset. Until sunset it is too hot. Another matter is the pavement hasn’t cooled down enough for dog paws.

Harper quickly recognizes the word ‘walk’ and instantly pricks up her ears. Someone and I disguise the word with the substitute “having a W” lest we get her hopes up at an inopportune time.

Our walks used to go at a nonstop pace. Nowadays Harper is keen at stopping at all the shrubs for a sniff. Sometimes it is hard to get her going, she gets so engrossed in a scent.

While we walk I often listen to lectures on my iphone, either medical or history. This week’s Continuing Medical Education tutorial is Eating Disorders; the History course is about The Fall and Rise of China.  By strange coincidence the former is talking about anorexia while the later is discussing the starvation that occurred during “The Great Leap Forward” disaster when people literally turned to cannibalism. One group is hell bent on starving themselves to death while is desperate not to.

Several lights in the neighborhood are out, so our walks are sometimes a bit spooky. Happily we haven’t encountered any beasts in the night.  I haven’t heard Mrs Oliver (the great horned owl) in a while. I miss her hoo-hoos.  So if I turn off the iphone it is rather peaceful.  Not too far from the house is some open desert. It is lovely to behold. But stay out lest the coyotes get you!

Resolutions and Fabrics too

A Spo-fan recently wrote me saying he was disappointed I keep bringing up tid-bit items only to provide no follow-up.  Well, life is like that : full of loose ends and tales without closure. Here are some for those feeling pained and deprived of resolution.

Flies:  Someone greeted my proposal to purchase a roll of flypaper tape with a look equivalent to “Sooner I’d eat rats in Tewkesbury”.  We seem to be winning the battle for the flies without paper. Someone is much better than I with the fly swatter. His thwack is strong and accurate, while mine only send the flies off in agitation.

Stomach:  We are going to start a diet proposed by the personal trainer. It consists of frequent small people with simple vegetables and lean meats and not much of either.  It also forbids all alcohol.  No booze!   I better look lean and flat for the agony of becoming a teetotaler.

Elmer:  (ELectronic MEdical Records) is slowly coming together. However, just as I get the hang of it, they want me to translate from Mac to PC.

Michigan: No we are not thinking nor planning to move to Michigan. My recent entry about doing so was mere daydreaming.

Drawing: I haven’t gotten out the pencils to attempt some drawing.  Some of this is lack of time, but most of it is I can’t think of anything to draw.   When something inspires me I will let you know.

and finally

Shirts:  The Shirt of shirts is in CA. I apologize for the ones who didn’t get to it, but I made an executive decision to send it ‘home’ to Cubby and there it is.  It is not clear if Cubby or I will publish the contents, but someone will do so, never fear !

Meanwhile, I am making shirts of

Frida Kahlo

 

Japanese Men looking quite fabulous

 

and 

 

hot dogs

A Breviary of Pastors

At my parish there is to be another change of priests; we are going to get another new junior pastor. I don’t recall the name of the one who is leaving. At my parish priests come and go quickly enough I don’t bother learning their names. Like Bedouins they pack up their bags and move on quickly. In my time of being a Papist, I’ve never had any personal relationship to any priest.  For one thing, the ratio of priest to parish is often one to several thousands. He’s got enough to do as it is, poor fellow, so individual attention is not possible. I regret this for it would be nice to have a relationship in a similar way I have with my personal trainer.  If I really wanted personal attention I could make an appointment. However I don’t care much for the main fellow, who is fixated on the the Church’s “conservative stances” rather than on trivial matters like charity, mercy, and benevolence. I suspect if he actually knew me he would dislike me and/or have me thrown out, given his views on things. I daresay he would have me burned at the stake if it were possible.

People including Someone wonder why I keep going. Well, it is my parish. The priests, they come and go, but I stay.Heaven keeps telling me to stay right where I am, so I feel I don’t have a much choice in the matter.

When I was growing up and going to Protestant churches, the ministers were more far approachable. In high school I went to an associate pastor on a regular basis for pastoral counseling and processing my Spiritual Journey.  The trouble there was parish members were always trying to put on a good show and a virtuous front for the ministers, rather than show or discuss shortcomings. I wonder which is more tedious: Catholic priests hearing nothing but woes and sin or the Protestant pastors hearing nothing but virtue.

Later in life my religious spiritual counseling was replaced by Jungian analysts, in a sort of mysticism without monasteries.  I have no one of these at the moment either, worse luck.

In this day of the internet, I wonder if I can get an on-line pastor or confessor.

I dare wonder if there is an ‘app’ for this.

Gods, Shirts, and Houseflies

We went to an all-you-can-eat Chinese Buffet this evening, and now I have a touch of food poisoning. Perhaps it is merely indigestion. I distrust buffets for human behavior (well, mine at least) is prone to keep eating past satiety because there is so much food to have AND there is a sense of ‘getting my money’s worth’.

It didn’t help that it was a nervous wound up week in general. Just as I got used to Elmer (ELectric MEdical Records) on my Mac, the bosses want me to change over to PC.  Everyone else in the office is PC so I was the odd man out/black sheep as it were.  There is some logic to this conformity, but is feels once again someone is wanting my square peg to fit into a round hole with the rest of them.

On Saturday we spend all day at the movies watching “Gotterdammerung”.  This is the finale of the “Ring cycle” by Richard Wagner.  Herr W. was a narcissist who made Donald Trump look like a Red Cross volunteer. He was loathsome but his music is brilliant. Why else would people put up with 5-6 hours of sitting in a movie theatre if it weren’t for something splendid?

The rest of the weekend looks to be another one full up with paperwork. I am again behind in my blog reading again.  I wouldn’t mind working on a few new shirts, if it isn’t too hot to iron.

For those who still follow – or care –  the traveling Spo-shirt is in CA.  It has taken a year and a half to travel but now it is coming home.  Cubby can keep the shirt; I am keen on getting the journal and seeing what everyone wrote.  Cubby or I will publish it if anyone is interested.

The only other ‘noteworthy item’ is our kitchen suddenly has a swarm of flies. As the doors and windows are shut for the AC, we are not sure where they are coming from. My hypothesis: a fly’s cache of eggs has hatched to produce overnight the observed swarm. I hate hate flies. They are not so much insects but pestilence on wings. I walk around the kitchen with a yellow fly swatter. Alas my aim is not very good, which only seems to infuriate the bastards and/or make the multiply.  Do they still make fly paper I wonder.

Curious Things Around the House #30

I grew up knowing three out of four of my grandparents. The exception was my paternal grandfather, who died when I was about six years old.  I have only some vague memories of him. Because Father was most like him in looks and temperament, he got most of Grandfather’s knickknacks and keepsakes, including this painting of the man.

My photo does not do justice in conveying how large is the painting. It is beyond large; it is vast. What I remember Grandfather was an amiable fellow, not the austere man in the painting. He was a prominent attorney.  Perhaps it was purposely painted as this way to don some law study.  I imagine it best fitting over a massive fireplace.

Anyway, it gives me the creeps.  As a boy it reminded me of something out of Dark Shadows. I didn’t want to walk by it in the night time, lest it start stretching like the paintings in Disneyland’s Haunted Mansion.

Because I am so much like Father who in turn was like his Father, I will probably inherit Grandfather’s painting.  I don’t find him/it too unsettling anymore. The style of the frame doesn’t really go with the rest of the house, but I suppose that is one of its charms. I just don’t want it hanging where he can watch me sleeping.

Spo-Reflections while driving home from a family dinner.

Last evening I had a nice dinner with my cousin and her beau, and Uncle, who came into town to help her pack up to move to Colorado.  She had several job offers. She took the job close to her mother and siblings.  Recently Brother #3 moved back ‘home’ to MI  where he and his wife can be close to each of their families.  Both sides of my tree produced a generation of kids who wandered far and near only to move back close to family.  I am quite fortunate to have such a family.

My cousin pointed out that leaves Someone and I living ‘away’ . She asked would we ever consider moving ‘back home’?   The question has occurred to me on more than one occasion. I moved to Phoenix when Someone got a job here. But now that job is gone. While Arizona has been a marvelous adventure, it has never felt quite ‘home’. I don’t imagine permanently staying here.  I could get a job anywhere but our house has dropped like a paralyzed pigeon in its value: to sell would be a great loss.  For better or worse we are staying put.

‘Where do you hope to retire?” is another question I am asked from time to time.  I’ve said this before: I don’t plan or even think about retirement for the chances of it happening are slim to none. If I had my druthers I would retire to the Pacific Northwest, or to Canada.

I am not unhappy where I live, but I do miss having my relations close by me.  Despite time and effort, I have not had great luck in forming a local social network. This is one of the reason I blog and do Facebook and Scruff; having buddies faraway is better than no friends at all.

I hugged and kissed my cousin farewell.  I gave Uncle and great bear hug good-bye. He has prostate cancer; during our embrace I had the morbid thought was this “the last time” I would see him.

While we listened to a lecture on the thirty mile drive home, my thoughts wondered about where I was going in Life.

Spo-Reflections on Abdominal adiposity, commonly called ‘beer belly’

People are often dissatisfied with their physique and I am no exception. I am overall at peace with what I got and how I look.

The glaring exception is my belly.

Like a lot of men, my body fat accumulates in the abdominal area.  Despite my efforts of exercise and better diet, the belly fat refuses to budge.  After a full meal, or when something triggers bloating, I look like I am pregnant. It is not a pretty sight.

Photographs of hot guys with flat stomachs do not elicit in me lust but envy. I respond with ‘ooh, a flat stomach, how to I get that?”.

It behooves me to loose the tire, but like a squatter, it is difficult to eject.

My desire for a flat tummy is more than mere vanity.  There are a lot of health hazards associated with abdominal fat: diabetes, heart conditions, hypertensions, and certain cancers. Abdominal fat has the nasty additional attribute it is associated with inflammation ,which may the real cause of all these health conditions.  Abdominal fat doesn’t like to go away as quickly or as well as other types of body fat.

Besides the vanity and the health concerns, I see abdominal fat as symbolic of all that is wrong with western civilization < bad diet, lack of activity, lack of exercise, and being suckered into all sorts of nasty foodstuffs from evil food industry empires.

I am quite dubious of human growth hormone and of any diet claim that states it specifically targets belly fat.  I have to work on mine the old-fashioned way with proper diet and overall weight loss.  This is not fun, glamorous, and provides no quick results.

But like the intrepid tortoise of the fable, I hope to cross the finish line ahead of the hare and with no paunch either.

Once upon a time and nowadays.

When I was ‘home’ last weekend I came across a photograph of Urs Truly taken in 1980, for my high school graduation. 

What on earth possessed me to :

a) have my hair like that

b) Wear  a tie

and

c) Wear Brown, a colour I despise ?

Here I am in 2012,  over 30 years later.,…

Need I say more?