The laaaaat mothafuckin' ass frontier

My trip to Alaska was lovely.

I got up at the ungodly hour of 4:00 am, prepared myself, and trekked to the BART for a nice and easy trip to SFO. Now that Virgin has gone under and been bought out by Alaska, I wasn't exactly sure what I was in for. But it was a connecting flight, so the first leg was in one of the old Virgin jets with the nice violet lighting and the great stretch out seats. I ended up sitting next to a neat freak who legit took out a set of Lysol wipes and cleaned down every surface of his area. I guess that's better than the dude who took out his laptop and straight up started looking at gay porn.

Then from Seattle to Anchorage, I was on one of Alaska's Boeing jets--and in the vicinity of just the kind of people you would expect to be going to Alaska. A guy coming up the escalator in front of me had a duffel bag with "NRA" on it. Saw lots of dudes in shirts with American flags, and the regulation baseball cap with sunglasses resting on the brim. I took my seat in first class while southern accents twanged all around me, and the stewardess, sporting an '80s-styled short curly 'do and embodying the spitting image of a greasy spoon waitress, came and took everyone's drink orders. When I said I didn't want anything, she said, "Nothing? Are ya sure? Oh, you're just bein' difficult," and lightly swatted me on the back of the head with the menu.

Annoying.

Speaking of the menu, it was here on this connecting flight that I felt the difference between my cosmopolitan Virgin airlines and the homey world of Alaska Airlines as the two entree items offered were of the beef and chicken varieties. I hadn't eaten beforehand as the thought of food at 5:00 or 6:00 am is purely vomit-inducing. I also hate screaming my order over someone else, and prefer the more civilized online menu where you place an order without having to say a word, and the stewardess brings it to you.

So, I sat there and starved.

As we flew into Anchorage, I almost wanted to burst out laughing. All below me was white--pure, unadulterated white. Like, I expected it to be wintery, but knew it wouldn't be the arctic proper. We landed, I headed to baggage claim, found the only place that served something I could eat (a low-quality slice of pizza, chips, and Sprite), and waited for Nell and Pam to pick me up.

They arrived, I gave Nell a hug, and it was off to the hotel. From her pictures, and knowing Nell's preferences for butcher women, I had expected Pam to be a kind of gruff, "woman of few words" type.

Not so.

She works as a tour guide, and was a fountain of information about Alaska. This was cool for the first hour or two. Then it was clear she was a compulsive talker, and given the long stretches of road we were on during the day and a half, it got wearing. Nell caught on by the second day, and I think had given Pam the directive to zip it after we were back on the highway after the ceremony, but that didn't do much good. I made the best of it, lightly chided Pam, and just flat out ignored her rambling at some points.

Joining the festivities was Pam's adorable eighty-year-old gay father, Charles, who was a hoot. He co-officiated the little ceremony with me at Talkeetna. Between him, Nell, Pam, and myself, we were all teared up at the end. You could tell when they were reading the vows that they weren't just repeating words after us, but feeling all of the emotions and experiences that had led them to there. So, her talkiness aside, I was exponentially glad that Pam and Nell had rediscovered one another.

The last day arrived, and I returned back to my beautiful Frisco Disco.

I used yesterday to take Shazaam to the vet where I learned he may have a stone and was overweight. They suggested I add canned food to his diet as the moisture will help with the digestion. I wish I had known this earlier on.

I took the day to also look at my current debt. I now have almost exactly the same debt as a I had a year and a half ago when I took out that mega loan to pay all of my credit cards. I was crestfallen to find out, but prompted to do so upon discovering I was nearing my max on many of my cards. I really didn't learn my lesson. Or it's that I've become so accustomed to a certain lifestyle. Even yesterday, between the cat's vet visit ($400), a hair cut ($52), moisturizer ($250), grocery shopping ($120), and alcohol and mixers ($75)--and yes, I even took the Muni to the stylist to save on cash--I couldn't believe how much I actually spend in a day's time.

So I applied for another mega loan from another company. It's approved, and I just got a call from them. I had been diverting a specific amount to paying off two cards and my mattress (which is now paid off), so I think I can manage the payments, and it's only for five years. And then I have to turn into Mr. Frugality, because I just don't think I'll get another shot.

I'd also had my heart set on taking my mom to England for her sixtieth birthday next year. I can put that on a card, then transfer the balance to a 0% interest plan for about a year, so that should be manageable.

Oh, what a tangled web we weave when we practice to be as bougie as can be.

Off to the (not so sunshine-y) state!

I leave at the absolute butt crack of dawn tomorrow for Alaska for my old boss's wedding. She promoted me into my position in a new division in the department, and provided two additional nice increases during the nearly nine years she managed me. We had some fun times, and I'm very happy that she's found her soulmate and been able to retire early.

As for it being in Alaska, I reckon it'll be something like "Northern Exposure" meets "Sex in the City." I did a Google maps view of the hotel, and there's, like, nothing around it. We're doing some sight-seeing tomorrow, so should be fun. Then the wedding's on Wednesday (very cazh), and I fly back Thursday at noon. I guess it may not be all that wacky and wild a time since it's in the boondocks, and there's no one I know besides my boss and her fiance in the wedding, but hey, we'll make the best of it. If anything, it hits the reset button, and I get out in nature for a wee bit.

I kind of wish I'd taken the Monday after I get back off, as I'll just have three days off (one of which is earmarked for Shazaam's vet visit and a much needed haircut), but we're gearing up for things at work, so it was not advisable.

I'm hoping to get baptized later this month. I've put it off long enough. I'm just worried that when I meet with the pastor (different from the head pastor who I'd already given the gay schpeel to a few months ago), that he'll hint at sexual sins, and I'll have to get into it. But this is something I've wanted to do, or maybe felt compelled to do. I don't know anymore. I keep wishing for some revelation that will push me over the line to feel that I *need* to do this.

Retirement age ain't nothin' but a numba

I worked from home today, and it was lovely. It involved sleeping in 'til about eleven, answering a few emails, and then largely completing a few personal tasks like washing the dishes, working out, dropping off pants to be sewn, cancelling my phone service, and scheduling a dentist appointment. I went to Trader Joe's, too, and it was beautiful out, and the store was virtually empty.

This is what I imagine retirement to be like. I suppose this kind of quaint simplicity may get wearing after awhile, but it's one of the things I think I'll relish when time comes.

And if that time comes in twelve years versus sixteen, I can only just imagine the joy, the exquisite joy!

I'm doubtful that I'll get any more windfall pay increases in the remainder of my career unless my serpentine VP eventually relents and promotes me to manager when my current manager retires, which I suspect will be sometime within the next ten years. And the early retirement may not mean I'll have enough to move to San Diego, but we'll see. Just thinking about it and knowing how quickly time flies now makes me happy.

Future forecast

I have today off because it's Independence Day (not that I'm feeling even remotely patriotic), but it's sort of idiotic because it's a Wednesday. As a result, I've decided to take off tomorrow and Friday, and pull in a five-dayer. I had planned for this about a month or so ago, and had hoped to fast for three days. But alas, that plan fell through, as I somewhat suspected it would, and will be replaced by cocktailing and YouTubing. I'm a little disappointed at this unsurprising turn of events, but am hoping God'll give me a pass on this one.

If nothing else, it certainly won't do wonders for my figure, which has ballooned up this year due to several of these little extended weekends. It might be best if I just powered through the remaining weeks of July without any more three-day weekends until Corrine's wedding in August. I've added more weights to my workout regime, but it's getting to the gym more than two days a week that's a challenge when my overall morale has been quite watered down.

I started thinking today about retirement, something never too far from my mind even though it's still sort of far away. What made me think about it was Justin Timberlake. I was watching a YT video (natch) of this dude and his mom at a club, and a remix of "Can't Stop the Music" was playing, and I thought to myself, Didn't that just come out last year? I looked it up, and lo, it came out two years ago this past May. I can specifically remember hearing it for the first time on the radio in an Uber on the way to work, and immediately looking it up on my phone.

That seems like it was just six or so months ago. My point, as I've always said before, is that the passage of time feels expedited when you're older.

Adding to this, I've always insisted I will stay in SF until the end of my days, loving the City as I do, and relishing in the benefit of living in a rent-controlled apartment. But today, I started toying with the idea of moving back to San Diego after retirement. I could take my pension, earned on SF market dollars, to a cheaper area of the state, and it might go further. Indeed, I may even be able to retire earlier. Heck, that was what Corrine did when she hightailed it to Alaska at fifty three. Plus, I would be near my sister and nephew, and my mom during her golden years. My high school chum Aaron plans to move back there after retirement as well, and Roula and Raina are there, too.

Then I actually started looking up apartments--of course in the more enviable areas like Kensington and downtown--and saw they were more than I was paying now. Even ones further inland were more.

Truly the housing crisis has even extended to the city I fled from like a bat outta hell.

Corrine joked with me more than once that once I got older, my affection for the City would likely diminish. As I see article after article about used needles on the street, and bags and suitcases of feces left on sidewalks, I can only wonder what my beloved City by the Bay will be like sixteen years from now.

Hey, two or three years ago, I wouldn't have imagined I'd call myself a Christian. Contemplating myself as a citizen of San Diego in the distant future doesn't seem too far off considering.

Morose Mondays: June 25, 2018 edition

With the forced change of my title at work, joined by the fact that I only got a satisfactory rating on my performance evaluation and the new girl was hired at a salary almost the same as my own, I've had a few realizations:

1) Since I'm not the boss anymore, that means I'm not ultimately accountable for my whole unit. In a sense, I make out alright since I'm still at the same pay, with less overall responsibility. Granted, I've been assigned more clients with this change, but if the shiz hits the fan in any way, I just escalate away to my manager.

2) If I look purely at experience in the role, I technically only have three years more experience than New Girl. I don't think that should only account for a differential of 54 cents or whatever it is, but there will be a merit this year, and I'm hoping that will edge me up a bit more so it's not so offensive. Plus, I must remember, I'm thrilled with what I make. I never would have thought I would make this much money, so looking at it purely from that perspective, I can't complain.

So although there's this haze of depression that's sort of hovering over me, I take these facts into account.

Trying to rebound back into a slimmer figure has proven more of a challenge. I was getting dressed for church Sunday, and just couldn't stomach any of my shirts due to my protruding stomach, so I settled on brown pants and a black shirt. Easily the most inconspicuous and colorless I've dressed in ages.

So out I go, when I notice colorfully dressed gays, and then a girl with a rainbow flat in her backpack, and lo and behold, it was Pride. And there I was dressed like a fucking Quaker on my way to church. I had honestly thought it was next week, and had talked with Leia about possibly going as her work was going to have a float.

My sister posted a picture of a get together at her house with her quasi-estranged father's side of the family. I was surprised to see them all together. These were people who were a part of my life when my mom and stepdad were together. They even ran the local community theatre, and I had some lovely times working the lights and even starring in a few productions. I commented my joy at seeing them all together again, and even added them on Facebook, which they all accepted. Lovely thing.

Morose Mondays, June 12, 2018 edition

I was looking through some old pictures on Facebook when, of course, I stumbled upon some from when Collette lived with me. It was a fun time, and we would have her friends over, who later became mine. And her brother visited us a few times as well, once for his birthday. There we are, doing shots in her room, and I look at the date it was taken: July 12, 2008.

I couldn't believe it. How in the hell was that ten years ago next month.

It gave me some degree of comfort to see that I hadn't aged much, potentially looked even better (though a bit chubbier now in the face due to over-partaking of cocktails recently). Gotta look at the friggin' bright side when I can here.

Saturday night, Raina and I went to see "The Empire Strips Back," a "Star Wars" burlesque parody. It was plenty entertaining, though I wish there had been more dudes and that I'd been a bit more soused to enjoy it. That qualifies as my one cultural event for the month, so good for me.

And now I need to find another one. I'd really like to get in that one a month event so that another ten years doesn't pass by, and I wonder where the hell it all went.

Oh, what a whirl, what a whirl

My stature at work seems to continue to diminish as my new boss, who is lovely in many ways, has decided to laterally reclassify my position from a supervisor to a lead. No change in pay, but it's a more accurate reflection of what I do since my power as a people manager has been usurped out from under me. In addition, I'm getting more client departments, which I had shed upon taking the supervisor role so I could focus on the strategic/advisory part of my job.

To add to this, she also hired a new analyst who's a friend of hers and fourteen years my junior with just four years of experience, and is paying her almost exactly what I make, and more than the other two more seasoned analysts. This only slightly makes sense when you look at market for our positions and the fact that we have a merit program forthcoming, but I also got myself just a satisfactory performance rating instead of a more than satisfactory rating, so I'm not looking at anything generous in terms of a raise.

I try to just remain grateful for the fact that I'm still well paid, and at the halfway point of my professional career. My VP just doesn't see me as a people manager, so even when my boss retires, my chances are slim to none of being promoted. So we'll just coast along at the current pace. At the risk of being snarky, I guess I'm just there for a paycheck!

I need to get back in the game with working out. And this includes stopping the sauce intake on weekdays, which I had been so good about for so long, but after a handful of events that lent themselves to it, I partook on a Monday or Thursday--at it shows. I miss that period in my early thirties where I maintained the diet I always had and just ground myself to the bone with cardio, and lost weight. Now that just ends up grounding me into the ground with exhaustion, so I have to follow the eighty/twenty rule of what accounts for your weight is eighty percent what you eat, not your exercise routine.

If there's something that would lend itself to slimming down, it's my old boss's wedding in Alaska two and a half months from now. It's apparently going to be relatively small. Seems like a lot of people are unable or unwilling to make the trek, which makes me kind of sad for her. But she's thrilled I'm coming, and I wouldn't miss the chance to see the happily ever after for someone who was so good to me.

Tifferbee and I are seeing "The Empire Strips Back," a "Star Wars" burlesque parody in two weeks. Should be fun, and it'll be the first time I've been to the Warfield. I told myself some time back that I would try to do at least one adventurous/cultural thing a month, so gotta get back on track with that, too.

For now, I'm having one last hurrah for May with a four-day Memorial Day weekend, starting off with a viewing of "The Avengers: Infinity War" followed by a deep dive into a cocktail glass as per my wont.