Diary of a Network Geek

So, back when I was dating LK, I really got cooking.

No, not that, you dirty-minded naughty people. Cooking on a stove with food. But, since surviving cancer, I’ve been doing real cooking, from scratch, not the regular, heating up canned sauce and pouring it over cheap pasta that I usually do for myself. A couple of weeks ago, I actually made marinara sauce from scratch, and poured it over cheap pasta. Here’s how:

• Pour enough olive oil in a sauce pan to cover the bottom with a little bit to spare
• Add some fresh, crushed garlic (I used about half a full clove)
• Saute that in the hot oil until garlic is golden brown and smells good
• Add fresh chopped tomatoes until about two thirds of the sauce pan is full.
• Spice to taste, but I included more garlic, oregano, rosemary, thyme and pepper. (Actually, most people could do without as much pepper as I used, but, still, I liked it.)
• Simmer for about 20-25 minutes, stirring occasionally
• Add spices for color and taste.

Yeah, that’s it. Simple as all get out, isn’t it? And, yes, I fed it to actual human beings besides myself who enjoyed it, so they claimed, and did not die. I made that again, but added mostly cooked Italian sausage to make a meat sauce. Oh… Well, let’s just say my “lose weight” resolution took a little beating.

Then, there was the salad dressing I made with one cup of olive oil, one cup of apple cider vinegar and two table spoons of parsley. And some sugar and some other spices which I would tell you, if I could remember what I used. As salad dressing, it was okay. But, as something to dip bread into while we waited for the pasta to cook? Oh, I don’t think I exagerate when I say it was heavenly. Something about the tang of that apple cider vinegar just really, really went well with the fresh Italian bread.
A similar concoction for cold pasta salad didn’t do quite as well. Still, it wasn’t entirely a failure, so, I might try that again.

A couple of weeks after she broke up with me, I made “Mystery Whitefish” Almondine ala Leftovers. I had two small fillets of an unknown variety in my fridge that had to get used before they go nasty, so I grabbed my copy of Cooking for 1 or 2 and started to improvise. You see, I almost never have the ingredients I need on hand when I start cooking, so, I just come close and muddle through. I often find it surprising what I find when I do that.
This time, I substituited a failed batch of cornbread for bread crumbs and found something new and wonderful. Here’s what I did:

• Toss your fillets into a bit of milk. Just enough to cover them a bit.
• In another pan or plate, toss the cornbread crumbs and mix in a bit of pepper and salt. I used Lowry’s seasoned pepper, but whatever works for you.
• Pop a medium fry pan onto the stove and, when it gets hot enough, melt a bit of butter in it.
• Flop the fillets from the milk into the seasoned cornbread. Coat both sides well and drop them into the pan.
• Cook until the fish is flaky and tender then flip the fillets onto a warm plate.
• Throw some sliced or slivered almonds into the pan and saute until, what else, golden brown. I’d guess about a teaspoon or so per serving.
• Serve over brown rice

I have to say, this was surprisingly delicious. Granted, there’s no one to verify the delectibility of this particular culinary experiment, but Hilda thought the plate tasted quite nice after I was done.

I tried this with chicken, instead of fish, and cashews, instead of almonds, and, while I have no idea at all what to call it, the result was, well, to put it mildly, heavenly.

My sister and nephew were here this weekend.

My sister and her son should be home by now. Their flight for Chicago left this afternoon and everything was on time. They got in Thursday and stayed with me and Hilda while they were here. It was sort of nice having visitors, even relatives. I thought I’d be glad to see them go, so I could get my house back, but, honestly, until they left, I had no idea how much I missed having people around. I think Hilda misses having a younger person around to shower her with attention, too.
In any case, Friday we went to the Downtown Aquarium. It was okay, but, well, I think it was geared more toward small kids and families. There weren’t a lot of exhibits and there was a fair amount of “touristy” stuff. Still, the exhibits there were good. They were clean, the animals were healthy and active, and pretty much everything worked. Besides, in spite of feeling relatively good and strong, I’m still recovering from having cancer and the treatment, so a little less to do on that first day was probably for the best.

Saturday we just hung around the house. Though, we did run out to the office to look for a cable for their camera and to try a Vietnamese noodle shop. The night before, we hit my new favorite Thai restaurant, which was fairly brave of them, considering how much Asian food they get in their small, rural hometown.
Saturday night we went to church, where they got to meet a bunch of my friends. I hope it wasn’t too overwhelming for them. Either my family or my friends! After church, I was forced to choose the restaurant, so we all went out for Mexican. Also, not an option they normally get. At least, not authentic Mexican.

Sunday, it was off to the Houston Zoo. Again, we got there early and spent quite a bit of time, which was nice, but tiring on these old bones. I haven’t been to the zoo in ages, so I had a good time. And, because the weather was a bit dicey, the crowds were light. Luckily, the weather held and we had a good time. We left a bit early for dinner, but we stopped by Goode Company and got some “to go”. It was great, even warmed up in the microwave. And, I got to show them a great taste of Houston to boot.

Since I know you all have been wondering what I look like without hair, or with my hair growing back, I got my nephew to take a couple of pictures. I’ve got them here, below, so you can see them. I’m also asking you all to vote on them, so I know which one to use to update my Match.com profile with my new “look”.

This is sort of mugshot looking to me, and a little out of focus, but it’s a simple shot. I hope I don’t look too scary with such short hair! It does kind of look like an ID photo, though, doesn’t it? I don’t know, I guess the full on portrait is always a kind of classic.

This is an attempt at a “candid” shot. Naturally, I’m sitting in front of a laptop. What else would a professional computer geek and hopeful author be doing? Right? And, maybe that’s also its weakest point. It shows me in my natural environment just a little too much.

And here is a close-up version of that last shot. I don’t know… Do I look too serious? Ha, if you know me in RealLife, you’d know that I’m almost never serious! Ah, well, it is a pretty good picture, I think. Still, do you think it makes me look too grim? Like I’d be no fun on a date? I only get one chance at a first impression you know!

And, finally, a shot from the other side. And a little smile, which I think is better. Oh, these shots show off my new glasses, too! (So, tell me, you totally want to rub my short hair to see how it feels, don’t you?)
Okay, so, make sure to vote for you favorite picture!

What do you say to your best friend’s wife when she tells you that you’re a handsome man?

So, I got two interesting compliments this week.
Last night, at church, L., J.’s wife, looks at me and suddenly declares, “New Glasses!” Apparently, she’d been trying to figure out what was different about my face since seeing me, but, considering it was Mercy Street‘s 10-year birthday celebration, she was a little too distracted to see it right off. Her explanation of that declaritive statement went something like this…

Well, you’re a handsome man, but tonight there was something special about your eyes. You looked kinder or… Well, your new glasses just made your eyes “pop”.

So, my goal of finding glasses that were unobtrusive and didn’t get in the way of my face seems to have been successful.The other thing came in the form of an e-mail.
Back before I was diagnosed with cancer, I’d seen a woman from Match.com twice, but she didn’t feel any “chemistry”, so, she pretty well cut things off. Not a big deal, really. She was nice enough and made pleasant conversation, but I had to admit there wasn’t much there beyond that. Still, I would have given it a couple more dates before making a decision. I don’t much trust that chemistry business, as I find it a poor indicator of how well a relationship will go for me. I felt a fair amount of unexplainable chemistry with my ex-wife, but that was a disaster on wheels.
In any case, I’ve been updating my Match.com profile a bit. I figured that since my eyebrows were growing back nicely, I should start making preparations to date again. Well, out of the blue, this woman sends me an e-mail. She wrote that Match.com hadn’t worked out too well for her and that I was “one of the few great guys” she’d met and did I want to give her another chance to get to know me. Well, I figure, nothing ventured, nothing gained, so I wrote her back with a yes. So, after my sister and nephew come and go next week, I’ll drop her a note and we’ll work out getting together.
I have to admit, even though I feel a little shallow for the ego pump her e-mail gave me, it is gratifying to know I was a cut above the rest of her Match.com dates. We’ll see how it goes.

Oh, and the answer to that question at the top of the post?
“Thank you.”

Advice from your Uncle Jim:
"Denial is a powerful tool. Never underestimate its ability to cloud your vision."
   --Melody Beattie

Not that I’d know, personally…

I know I’ve touched on it before, but here’s another article about dating at work. Of course, what I need are tips for dating someone from church, but no one’s written about that yet. I wonder why?
Well, while we ponder that mystery, here’s an article on what women want men to wear. Is it accurate, ladies? Should I be wearing rugged Levi’s with a white t-shirt? Or something that matches my eyes?
And, finally, for those readers who are married, how to argue with your wife, though, I would say avoid that if possible. Incidentally, these tips work pretty well for women arguing with their husbands, too.

Advice from your Uncle Jim:
"If I were beautiful like you, I'd have so many friends I could hurt one and I wouldn't have to make amends."
   --Joydrop, "Beautiful Like Me"

Sooner or later, we pay for everything.

So, I’ve been thinking again.  Always a dangerous thing with me.  Tonight, I was thinking about what things cost and how I’ve paid for them over the years.   No, I’m not talking about cash and the level of debt I carry.  Well, I’m not talking about cash, anyway.
Nor am I talking about any simple, tangible form of payment.  Tonight, I found myself contemplating lost opportunities.  It’s a reality that hadn’t occurred to me until I was in college, really.  The idea that by choosing one course of action, or inaction, other courses were lost or unavailable.

I’ll give you an example.  If LK had stayed involved with me last year, she likely would have missed out on the opportunity to move to Denver and do all kinds of great things for her business.  Sure, she would have had that relationship, such as it was, but, I think she would have missed out on a bigger, better opportunity for her.  That business was her life, in many ways, and, as much as I wanted to, I couldn’t help her enough with it.  And, yes, I’m glad that she made that particular choice, because it was the best choice for her.  But, it did have intangible costs associated with it.
For instance, if she’d stayed here and with me, we might have gotten married.  Granted, where I was mentally and emotionally at this time last year, that was pretty unlikely, but, still a possibility.  Or, any of a number of things could have happened here, in Houston, for her and her business, that she didn’t get to experience because moving away cost her that opportunity.

I think I missed out on an opportunity myself, recently, because I spent too much time considering it and not acting on it.  It happens.
And, then, there are all manner of lost opportunities that passed me by while I was in the hospital taking chemotherapy.
On the other hand, passing up those few, small, opportunities allowed me to continue living, which will provide a whole lot more opportunities that won’t pass me by.

Funny, when I sat down to write this, that’s not where I thought I was going.
God sure does work in mysterious ways.
I wonder what opportunities I’ll have tomorrow?

Advice from your Uncle Jim:
"In times like the present, men should utter nothing for which they would not willingly be responsible through time and eternity."
   --Abraham Lincoln

Based on my limited experience, I shouldn’t complain, but…

Well, from what most people say, this cartoon from The Fifth Wave sums it up. And, certainly, that was true of my ex-wife, who could be downright fun, for up to three days at a time. But, somehow, the people we represent ourselves to be on those infernal Internet dating sites is never quite how we really are in life, is it?

I woke up this morning spooning my dog.

Let that soak in for a minute…
Spooning.  My.  Dog.

Now, while there’s nothing intrinsically wrong with this, I still found it a little disturbing.  Perhaps more so because I had a dream about getting two flat tires with my ex-wife in the car and her remaining perfectly calm the whole time.  Obviously, it was a dream, because that would never have happened in life.  Trust me.

In any case, I am sure that this is a sign I need to get out more, eyebrows or not, if only to meet more people that I’d feel safe dating.  Right now, my best prospects are a Federal parole officer, a friend’s ex, and a reformed lesbian.  Actually, I’m just kidding about one of those, but I’ll let you all guess which one.  So, I think I need some updated pictures for the on-line dating sites I’m still a member of and, well, to start getting out more.

Pray for me.

Advice from your Uncle Jim:
Just because something is simple doesn't mean it's easy.

So, yesterday, a pair of recently married friends were asking me about my dating plans.

Well, I hadn’t thought about that much, really.  I mean, I’ve been pretty focused on just getting through my cancer treatments.  And, now, I’d really rather wait until I have hair again.  Or, at least, until my eyebrows grow back in all the way.
But, for those of you who are actively dating, here are a couple things to think about…  First, tips for dating a co-worker, beyond “Don’t”, of course.
Second, there’s tips that men want women to know. And, yes, we do, please read it.
Thirdly, if you get far enough, guys, here are some tips about sex women wish men knew.

And, yes, when I eventually start dating again, I’ll probably post about it here.

Advice from your Uncle Jim:
"Those who dance are considered insane by those who can't hear the music."
   --George Carlin

A funny thing happened this weekend that reminded me of two things from my youth.

I won’t go into what just happened, but it involved gossip and reputations.
What it reminded me of, however, was two girls I knew in the sixth and seventh grades.

When I was in the sixth grade, a lot of us had already started that magical time of our lives called puberty. Naturally, some of us developed at a somewhat faster rate than others. For instance, my voice changed one weekend to the start of the rumbling basso profundo whose mellow tones you heard almost two years ago, reciting poetry. But, it was the girls who developed early that had the most problems.
There was one in particular that made quite an impression on me. Her name was Lindsey and she had the unfortunate last name of Popper. Naturally, having developed a figure in the sixth grade led to all sorts of ways to use that name in childish ways. But, what I remember of Lindsey wasn’t that she developed early, really. I remember this girl who moved from Atlanta, Georgia to the very different suburbs of Chicago being shy and lonely. She had very long hair, and she used it to show me an interesting little trick. In one of those strange moments of childhood intimacy, we were together in the back corner of a classroom with no one but the teacher around. She pulled one of those long hairs and made it into a kind of noose or leash, then she caught a fly and used her hair to make a “pet” out of the fly. In that small moment, I saw the sweet, tender girl that she was, not the false reputation that her body had earned her from jealous girls or spiteful boys. She was just another child of God, filled with wonder at the world and sharing that magic with me.
We became sort of secret friends after that, because, then, as now, I was tragically unhip and I knew it. We hardly talked after that, because her “boyfriend” liked to pick on me, but, every once in awhile, Lindsey and I would share a secret smile and remember that day when she was just a person revealing herself to another person. I learned more about the opposite sex in that moment than probably any other. Sadly, I forgot it for many years and I’m only relearning it now.

The other girl, from the seventh grade, was named Marcy Bloom. Also an unfortunate name for nice girl who, if you’ll pardon the pun, blossomed early. We were in a music class together that was a big deal. The teacher was very well liked and at the end of each semester, her class put on a small production with dance moves and top 40 music of the day. I shudder to think about the fact that we actually danced to “The Stroke (aka Stroke Me)” by Billy Squire.
In any case, I’d been out for a couple of days for some reason, either family vacation or illness, I don’t remember which. So, as a result, I was behind on learning the feeble dance moves that uncoordinated adolescents were capable of learning. Marcy was assigned the task of helping me catch up. I was rather not well accepted by the “cool kids” back then, seeing as how I was a total dork, so she was a little apprehensive about me to start with. Add to that the fact that every guy in school used to watch her chest when they talked to her and, well, I think you can probably see why she was less than happy with having to deal with me. But, I made up my mind to just be nice and polite and make a lot of eye contact. By the time I was caught up, she was totally at ease around me and even gave me a hug for something I did or said.
The lesson learned? Women, especially those who God has blessed a little extra, prefer to be looked in the eye, not the nipple. A lesson that serves me well even now.

Advice from your Uncle Jim:
"Failure is the opportunity to begin again more intelligently."
   --Henry Ford

So, the pulmonary specialist wasn’t sure what it was, either.

I have a mystery mass in my right lung.  Could be cancer.  Could be four other things with really long names that all seem to be the result of a long-term infection.  You know, like going three months without getting treatment for pneumonia.  Could be my unborn, evil, twin trying to claw his way out to world domination.  Could be an alien infestation waiting to take over the world.  Hell, at this point, it could be almost anything.

So, tomorrow, Monday, I go in for a biopsy.  And, yes, that’s damn fast.
In fact, the one thing that concerns me about this whole process is how fast the doctors have moved.  Always rushing to do the next thing, which never seems like a good sign to me.  In any case, I’ll be having an outpatient “proceedure” done tomorrow at 8:00am to get a biopsy of this little bastard.  Though, I suppose something that is blocking the bottom half of your lung isn’t “little”.  Well, whatever, they’re going to poke me tomorrow.  I have a friend from church, who also happens to be an R.N., that’s going to drive me to and from the proceedure, though that may be a bit over-kill.  They claim they’re going to use a local to get the sample and not put me under, but I feel better having someone there.  Especially someone who knows the medical profession well.
It was nice, though, that I got several offers of help and could pick and choose.  I really, honestly, never realized that I had so many friends who were so willing to help me with this stuff.  All this time, I’ve been pissing and moaning about how alone I am, but I’m really not alone at all.  Now, of course, the challenge is to relax and let them take care of me.  At least, I know I’ll be in good hands tomorrow.

It’s really been an interesting week.  Wednesday, I sat in the doctor’s office, waiting to find out what the next step in my treatment was and went through all five stages of death and dying, as laid out by Kubler-Ross.
“I’m too young to have cancer!  I can’t die yet!”
“God, I’ll do anything I have to do to stay alive, just show me what it is!”
“Damn it!  I should have come in sooner to deal with that damn cough!  They might have caught it sooner!”
“Oh, think of all the things I’ll never get to do!  Oh, I’ll never be married again or have kids or…  God, it’s so sad that I never appreciated that when I had and now I’ll never get the chance!”
And, finally…
“Well, I guess I’ll just have to do what the doctors tell me and see how far I get.  It’s out of my hands now.  I just have to trust that God knows what he’s doing.”

And, there it is.  It’s out of my hands now.  All I can do is trust that everything is unfolding the way it was meant to unfold.
Though, I’ve been told that I have to last until August 11, since I’m apparently to be the best man in the most anticipated wedding of the year, J. and L.  At least, I think he was serious when he said that tonight.  Either way, I plan to live long enough for that, no matter what my evil, unborn, twin’s plans are.

Oh, and I’ve already been informed that it is immoral to use “Well, I’m dying of cancer and I’d really like to have sex one last time before I die and you’re just so beautiful…” as a pickup line, even if it does turn out to be true.  Especially, if it turns out to be true.
I’ll let you all know more when I do.