Ennui

Wow... I haven't posted anything here in over a month... when is the last time THAT's happened? Been awhile... Christ, even Monk has posted within that time frame.

Random thoughts on the passing scene...

****

What a difference a month makes. Last month at this time, I had just wrapped up a really, really nice weekend visit with Ana, that included the celebration of her oldest son's 17th birthday. After a marathon drive from Cruces back to Albuquerque, I then flew out to Atlanta for the National Business Aviation Association conference, as well as to spend some time visiting my friends Pete and Toni. Life was good.

And then the tailspin started. An abortive attempt to kick off Aero-TV that, suffice to say, ended extraordinarily badly (the exact details of which I won't get into here) was just the start. The only good thing to come out of Atlanta was that I was able to spend some time visiting my old friends (I stayed at Pete's place, a side benefit of which was the chance to accumulate some time in his new, admittedly midlife-crisis-mobile -- a new Honda S2000 roadster.)

I can't be clear enough on this... that was the only good thing.

****

Following a hellish flight back to Albuquerque -- saddled in the next-to-last row of a Delta Air Lines MD-88, with a spectacular view of the starboard engine nacelle and nothing else (my ears rang for two days afterwards) -- I was at least looking forward to settling back into my life here. Ana was scheduled to come up to Albuquerque to have her son's wisdom teeth pulled, and while it wasn't a "fun visit" we figured we'd at least be able to spend some time together. 

Well, we did... but something was clearly up, and it weighed on our times together like an anvil.
As it turns out, her youngest son (she has two) is having problems in school... major problems, that Ana was not aware of until his teachers starting calling. In the blink of an eye, her focus turned from "I have the coolest, sweetest boyfriend ever" to "my son needs help." Like a good Mom does, her son's issues took front-and-center, with little room left for me.

And, by-the-numbers, I'm OK with that, really. She has done a fantastic job raising two growing boys, almost completely by herself, over the past 10 years. Long before our feelings for each other turned romantic, I admired the hell out of her for this fact. To whine that she's not spending enough time with me during this time would be an extremely self-centered, prickish thing to do. But I would be lying if I said I'm not bugged a lot by the fact that, over the past 30 days, I've pretty much been pushed out of her life.

This isn't the first time something like this has happened; her sense of obligation to being a mom, first and foremost, was the biggest reason why we didn't get more seriously involved back in 2005 (the distance between Las Cruces and Dallas also came into play.) She literally cancelled a trip to visit me in Dallas -- while standing in the airport -- because she felt too guilty.

I told myself there was a chance stuff like this would happen. I entered into this with eyes wide open, I know. Hell, she warned me of as much, as we sat outside in her backyard on a clear August night, watching the Perseids shower and talking of our respective futures, and how they might intertwine. I just didn't think this would happen so soon.

"This isn't fair to you, me spending all my time doing this," she's told me repeatedly. Well, she's right, it's not. But we seldom get to determine what's fair.

For now, though, it would be misleading to say we're "dating."

****

Lo, if that were the only drama in my life, things would still be OK. And before I go any further, let me say the single most important thing -- my health -- continues as more-or-less normal. My checkup last week went fine, as Dr. Rabinowitz ("Ian") gave me a quick once over, glanced at my bloodwork, and pronounced me good to go, complete with another "well-baby" affirmation. I'll have another CT in December, ahead of my next visit... and assuming all looks OK from that, I'll go on checkups every four months, instead of every two.

Of course, that came as a relief, although it took another day or two for my nerves to calm down... probably because of having other things on my mind. I mentioned the job before. That's another source of aggravation.

• Ennui (noun): a feeling of utter weariness and discontent resulting from satiety or lack of interest; the feeling of being bored by something tedious

I've been incredibly blessed and lucky to spend the last two years earning a paycheck, doing what I love. I've learned a lot in that time; I've also made some sacrifices, in the name of W-2 status, full health benefits, and guaranteed time off. I haven't had more than two weekend days off in a row in over a year now (the last time I had an extended period of time away from the job, was for my biopsy last October.) It's all been wearing on me lately... and I'd be lying if I said I wasn't extremely burned out.

My boss knows this, and sympathizes. We're hiring on more people to cover the weekend, and to spot me through the week. I don't know if those things will happen in time, though, before I throw a keyboard through my third-floor window. I don't remember being this stressed out about a job since going back to some of the darkest days in the warehouse at DMC.

I rarely stay at a job longer than two years. That hasn't been by design, it's just how things have usually worked out with me. My two-year anniversary of working full-time for ANN is coming up November 1. I'm trying not to read anything into that.

****

Let's see, what else... in an odd bit of happenstance, my football team (the Rams, sigh) and my friend Lee's team (the Dolphins, double sigh) are the only winless teams left in the NFL. It takes a big man to stand by an 0-7 team.

Go Bears.

****

I dreamed the other night I was taking skydiving lessons. This is something I've expressed interest in doing before, but have chickened out on before coming anywhere close to standing in the doorway of a Cessna 182 at 6,000 feet AGL. Give me metal wings over fabric and straps any day.

In the dream, though... I loved skydiving. I loved it so much, that feeling was still with me when I woke up, and it stayed with me for awhile after that. It was enough to keep me from remembering that, wait, falling dreams are supposed to mean you're going to die soon.

Weird.

****

This weekend, I came across the phone number for the Automated Terminal Information System (ATIS) recording at Addison Airport. I've called it a dozen times since then, listening to the wind direction and active runway information, recorded by the same controllers I used to listen to while sitting for hours on end at ADS, watching planes.

Sigh. I've said it before... of all that I miss about Dallas, and there's a lot, I miss having an airport just down the road the most. You can still talk to friends via email, phone, et al. I miss Addison. It was the closest thing to an inspiration point I've ever experienced.

I have to drive 30 minutes -- duking it out with the sorriest idiots Albuquerque streets have to offer -- to watch planes at the Sunport. It's nowhere close to the same, a bastardization of the real thing.

****
Fortunately, at least I still have my mountains, visible right outside my windows. It's getting too cold to sit outside and watch as they turn pink every night... which they still do, right on cue.
It's still enough. Not to say I wouldn't appreciate something -- ANYTHING, take your pick -- shaking out right at this point, though.

Brevity

Sometimes, it only takes a few words.

"The radiologist report is clear. So it is official!" -- Ian

So much better news than one year ago... when I nervously put the first 150 miles on my brand-new Mazda, driving aimlessly through the streets of Dallas at 3 am... trying to keep my mind occupied on Something Fun, instead of on looming shadows.

I've said it before... and I've meant it every time: Amen.

(And it's also cool that I seem to be on a first-name basis with my doctor.)

Sweating It...

I'm fine... I'm fine... I'm FINE...

Except I'm not so sure. Christ, here we go again.

Tomorrow morning is my first CT scan in New Mexico, and the first one I've had in four months. It isn't the test that bothers me, of course... well, except for having to drink barium (and it seems no one in New Mexico stocks the flavored contrast -- banana was almost palatable -- which means I'll be chugging non-flavored metallic liquid tomorrow morning) and the whole, "getting zapped with mucho radiation" thing.

What if they find something? What if they misread the scan? Will the radiologist freak out about the scarring on my lung, from last year's biopsy? Will my doctor see that, and think it's something bad? Have those "non-pathological" lymph nodes gotten larger, to the point where the docs will want to go in for a closer look?

What if "75 percent chance of no further recurrence" isn't good enough?

Sigh. I've fallen a long way from the last post. What was I just saying about laughing at cancer?

Don't focus on the possible -- and slim, remember, slim -- chances of Something Bad showing up. Think of the good things. You turn 32 next week! Wait... that's not an entirely good thing, wasn't I 25 just a few years ago?

More good things... my friend, Lee -- He Of The Ever-Blessed Moving Truck -- is visiting this weekend, which means one thing: Football Sunday returns!!! In keeping with tradition dating back to... oh, 1998, easy... we plan to head to the SkyBox in the Northeast Heights to watch the games. In a related note, Go Dolphins! (They're Lee's team, and they're playing the Cowboys. 

Need I say more?)

And, the best thing... Ana. My God, I think I'm falling hard for this woman. After a visit to Albuquerque over Labor Day weekend -- as you can see, we went on the Sandia Tram, her first time -- I drove down to Cruces last weekend to spend a day-and-a-half with her and her two boys, Alex and Christian. They seem to like me, and I get along great with them.

Today marks the one-month anniversary of Ana and me as a couple; we've known each other, if only in passing, for close to five years. We both say it seems longer, and that's a good thing. 

Another good thing... one month in, and even with talking every day, we still haven't run out of stuff to talk about. I can't recall ever being able to say that in any of my past romantic relationships.

"I don't remember it feeling like this," I told my Mom -- who I pretty much tell everything -- after I got back Monday morning. "Things feel so... natural... with her. We're not rushing anything."
"That's how it's supposed to feel," she told me. "Not forced."


We're still taking things super-slow -- like I said in an earlier post, we've both been hurt before -- but at the same time, I feel this is developing at the right pace. We have all the time in the world, after all.

As long as tomorrow's scan turns out OK, of course...

No Laughing Matter?

"I was diagnosed with cancer in 2000. Lymphoma. I lost a testicle... my HMO had a really crappy co-pay." -- Robert Schimmel

When I first heard that line -- spoken during a radio interview Schimmel did on the "Bob and Tom" show -- as I was driving down to Las Cruces almost three weeks ago, I very nearly drove the 6 off I-25, I was laughing so hard.

I'd like to say I've grown, and become ever-so-slightly more relaxed and comfortable with my ailment in the 20 months since I was diagnosed with TC. To an extent, I think, I have. But I can't claim a newfound ability to laugh at TC... because I've actually cracked jokes about it for awhile now.

The first one I remember was a little over one month after the surgery, during one of my first trips back to The Old Crow in Dallas (sidenote: I MISS THE CROW!!!!!) with a few of my former coworkers. One of them -- who I've never especially liked -- sneered something along the lines of "so, you're down to one, huh?"

"Yeah, but that's OK," I replied. "Your wife has both of yours." It was reflex, a knee-jerk response, and it was one of the most singularly brilliant things I've ever said (current and past AG'ers know who I'm talking about, and know why it was such a good line.)

In the months that followed, I became a little more comfortable with joking about being, well, "down to one." I told another friend I had developed a case of "nut rot," only to have to settle her down and reassure her that, actually, testicular cancer wasn't as bad as that.

When on a skateboarding mission with Monk in Denton last year (one year ago Monday, in fact) I had to stand on an electrical transformer box to catch the shot just right. "It's not so much that you keep biffing the trick," I told him. "It's the amount of electromagnetic energy irradiating my ballsack right now that most frustrates me."

I've commented to others I'll always be a Republican, because I still have the right one. And I'm still waiting on my call for a date from Sheryl Crow, who apparently isn't put off by the Uniball* concept (then again, I don't have seven consecutive Tour de France titles under my belt, either. Sigh.)

Last week, when I called and left a message for my friend Lee, I mentioned on voicemail I had my first New Mexico doctor's appointment the next day. "This won't be a big deal, just an appointment to get the ball rolling again." A pause. "That could be a pun, I guess, though it wasn't meant to be."

The loss of 50% of that which makes you a man isn't funny... except for the fact that, yeah, I admit, it kinda is. In the months that followed the surgery, as I became comfortable enough to sing in the car once again... I questioned whether my voice had suddenly gotten higher. (It hadn't.) I would also sometimes wonder if my... pectorals... weren't getting bigger (it's because I'm overweight and out-of-shape, not because I'm not producing enough testosterone.)

I've dreamed The Other One has fallen off. Twice. Ya gotta admit, that's hilarious. (If you don't see it, imagine the frantic -- then relieved -- self-grope upon waking.)

Fact of the matter is... I think I've laughed about this more than I've cried. I'm chuckling to myself now as I write this.

And on this, the one year anniversary of the "there's a spot on your lung," that's what I'm choosing to focus on. Oh, and also the fact my new doctor, an affable British chap, described observation checkups for TC as "well-baby" visits during my appointment last week. "Just to reassure everybody that everything's fine," he explained.

I think I'm going to like my doctor. I also think the day you can laugh at cancer, is the day a corner is turned.

*I'll never look at a certain brand of pens the same way again.

The 'New Mexi-fication' Continues

Well, now comes the reality part of the New Mexico move. On Wednesday, I'll have my first cancer check-up that won't be with Dr. Bhogaraju. I do have to say that so far, I've been very impressed by UNM's Cancer Center, though... they scheduled me with their 'specialist' for TC, which is reassuring to hear. I only hope I won't be requiring the services of a "specialist."

In happier news... I continue to settle back into life in NM... a process I've started calling my "New Mexi-fication" (I'm still waiting for my license plate. And no, I haven't yet paid my $200 speeding ticket, although I know I'll have to do that soon.)

I'm really loving having a balcony again, instead of a first-floor patio. I've taken to sitting outside in the morning, waiting for the sun to come up over the Sandias... and again in the evenings, during sunset. In addition to providing the opportunity for some neat pictures (see top photo) it also puts me outside when the hummingbirds are most active.

I gotta say, I've become very attached to the three hummers who have laid claim to my feeder... the closest things to pets I have (except for Abby of course.) It looks like I have a male and female adult pair (I think all three are black-chinned hummingbirds) and a baby who's grown considerably in the past two months... in fact, all of them are quite a bit fatter now.

The "baby" is the most adventurous of the three. While all of them have buzzed me (hummingbirds are very curious) the baby regularly hovers over my laptop computer when I'm working outside. Always a comfortable distance away, of course, but closer than the others. 

And yesterday morning, when one of the adults tried to chase it away from the feeder (hummingbirds are also aggressive little buggers) the baby "hid" behind me as I stood at the railing! The adult hovering in front of me didn't know what to think.


Yesterday afternoon, I was able to drive down to the Sunport, and watch planes for hours. Took some photos, including a shot of an Osprey tiltrotor hover-taxiing along runway 3. I also grabbed pics of good 'ol Skyhawk 62507, the first plane I ever flew completely by myself.

And lastly... as I mentioned, last weekend I drove down to Las Cruces to spend the weekend with a friend of mine named Ana, who I've known going back to my days at DMC. She left the company around the same time I moved to Dallas, and today she works for Tricore as, of all things, a phlebotomist -- someone who draws blood for medical testing, an area I've become quite familiar with in the past 18 months.

Ana is... special. She's one of the sweetest and most genuine people I've ever known. We talked about pursuing a romantic relationship back in 2005, but the timing wasn't right. Now, two years later... well, we're checking the timing again, very cautiously. She has her emotional baggage, I have mine, and we're each aware of that.

The highest compliment I can give her... is that I can't think of a single person who I call friend, or family, who wouldn't like her. I admit, I'm smitten, and she is, too. So, we'll see where it goes (if I have finally learned only one thing in this area throughout my life, it's to NOT RUSH THESE THINGS.)

You Bastards!

It had been a good day. I'm finally starting to feel recovered from the OSH experience, and it looks like we have a candidate for the Weekend Editor position at ANN who I think will be a great asset.

Combined with sunny skies... and one especially brave hummingbird, that has taken to flying right up to me when I'm outside working; one of these days, I think the ballsy little bird is going to try to land on the laptop screen... it had been a pretty good Friday. A necessary trip back to the DMV looked to only temper that slightly.

I shoulda waited until I got back to check my mail... but alas, I didn't. There was but one letter in the mailbox...

...From the Albuquerque Police Department...

...Photo STOP Division.

Knowing full well I haven't run any red lights, I opened the envelope... and was greeted with photographic evidence that my car was at the intersection of Montgomery and San Mateo on July 31st. The ticket -- for $200! -- states I was doing 45 in a 35 mph zone.

I'm not necessarily disputing that I may have been speeding; I would like to know whether the other four cars in one of the photos -- one of which I believe I recall was passing me -- were also ticketed, or did APD instead focus on the lone Texas plate in the bunch. Most gratingly of all... I had no idea the damn cameras -- also used in Dallas -- could give speeding tickets, too.

And I really wonder if that's right or not. The "officer's signature" on the ticket is an illegible scribble, that looks a little like binary code, shrunken to the height of a micron.

Today's the day I became a Libertarian. Wait, I was one already... nuts. Anyway, as I contemplate whether to fight this injustice or not -- no points are taken off your license whether you dispute it or pay, which means this is nothing but a pure money-grab by the city, nothing more -- I'm planning to visit my friend Ana in Las Cruces this weekend.

And I'm tempted to drive at 35 mph for the whole 220-mile trip.

What A Nice Day For A... Zzzzz...

Damn my 31-year-old, out-of-shape body anyway. I had big plans for this weekend. Great, relaxing, touristy-appreciation-of-New-Mexico, as-much-fun-as-you-can-have-without-an-airplane plans. See, ever since I got my car, I've wanted to see what it could do along a certain stretch of highway in New Mexico.

Highway 4, to be exact. The back road up to Los Alamos, through the Jemez Mountains.

Nothing too challenging, mind you... but more than a few switchbacks, horseshoe curves and cliff-hugging straightaways to see what 212-horsepower, a six-speed manumatic, ABS brakes and a decent suspension can do, in the proper setting. Zoom-zoom, and all that. All without breaking any road rules.

Well, not too many, anyway.

That was the plan for Saturday morning: get up at six, make some coffee and a breakfast burrito (that has become a weekend tradition of mine since returning to NM... with extra-hot green chile, of course) and head out for the 2.5-hour drive at around 8:30. That way, it'd still be cool enough to have the window down, and I'd get into Los Alamos -- my favorite NM town -- around 11 or so. Even taking the rest of the trip at a more relaxed pace, I'd still be back in Albuquerque by 3, at the latest.

That was the plan.

It went to hell at around 8:00, when I fell asleep on my couch. And again on Sunday morning, when I inadvertently slept in until 10 am.

And even today, I harbored a faint ambition to take the drive EARLY, so I could be back home, and back to work, by noon. I fulfilled one of those goals: I turned on my computer at 12:07 pm, after being woken up by my boss calling me, asking "um, you there?"

It's been one week since I returned from Oshkosh. I've slept for a good part of it -- getting at least 6-7 hours of sleep each night, and more often than not a nap in the afternoon. And I'm STILL beat. It probably has something to do with starting July with a 650-mile move, ending it with the biggest air show of the year, with a trip to Seattle tossed in between for good measure.

Maybe I should be surprised I'm not falling asleep on my keyboard.

I HAVE managed to get a few things done away from home. I got my New Mexico driver's license last week... and would have gotten my license plate as well, but for New Mexico having to obtain a copy of the car title from the lien holder. So, I have about another week or so to drive a Texas-plated car. I'm cherishing those days; having a New Mexico license plate will be the final affirmation I'm back in Albuquerque, an admission I'm still not 100 percent comfortable with.

To that end, I still haven't taken my TollTag off the windshield... and ya know what? I may never take it off.

Also went to see "The Simpsons Movie" Saturday night with Jen. Good movie, lotsa laughs, but not worth a $10 ticket. No, I didn't fall asleep in the theater. Had coffee at Double Rainbow -- wait, now it's Flying Star -- afterward.

OK, so being back here isn't ALL bad. I'm still enjoying watching "hummingbird wars," and sitting on the balcony in the evening, watching the sunset against the Sandias (or, lately, the rain over the city,) typing ANN stories to post at midnight on the laptop (as shown above; beer is optional). It's a nice routine... and it ALMOST beats hearing the roar of jets overhead, on approach to land at Addison.

But God, I do still miss Dallas.