Author Archives: Robert

Ray and I wanted to get some decorative stones for our yard.  I just figured we’d have the same people who sold us the gravel for the driveway deliver a bunch of random boulders.   I was wrong.  You have to go pick them out.  You have to go rock shopping. 

Having never picked out rocks, I wasn’t sure what characteristics to look for.  It’s not like you can hoist one up and thump the side of it like a cantaloupe.  We spent about an hour with a paint pen marking the rocks and boulders we wanted.  Some of the stones were small enough to pick up ourselves so we decided to take them home in the trunk.

To pay for the rocks, they weigh your car, you load it up and then they weigh it again to determine how much to charge.  While we were loading up, I saw a small stone off to the side that had unusual markings on it (see photo).  It was small enough to fit in my hand.  I liked it a lot so I tossed it in.  Now I’ve got this rock and I don’t know what to do with it.  I thought about using it as a paperweight but I don’t use much paper in my line of work.

I’ll probably find a special place for it in the yard.  Perhaps I’ll put it in an unusual spot and then when people come to visit we can play, “Find my Rock”.  Hmmm, that didn’t come out right…
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Bummed
Yesterday marked two weeks without alcohol.  I thought I would be more energetic and that those few extra pounds would be dripping off of me.  It’s just not happening.  I feel really quite blah most of the time.  To make matters worse, there is an extreme lack of motivation impeding my day to day duties.  It’s so hard to get going in the mornings and after lunch, my eyelids get so heavy that I just want to crawl under my desk and take a siesta. 

I have been working out though and man is it hard.  It feels like I’m pushing a boulder up a hill–so to speak.  The final buzzkill on all of this is that every time I pick up any sort of news, there is an article about how fucked up your life gets after forty.  Augusten Burroughs wrote in Details last month about how he had to go on a testosterone supplement because he was at the age (40+) when a man’s body drastically reduces its hormone production.  I was also reading an article about a gay adult film actor/producer who said he had to retire from the acting part because, “…it’s just too hard to keep my body in shape after turning 43.”

Aaaahhh!!!  I’m just not ready for that!!  It’s like the moment I really decided to do something about my body, all these people are telling me it’s too late.  It doesn’t matter how much effort I put into it, I’m destined to be forever flabby and grow man-boobs. 

I’m too young to feel this old.  Actually, I don’t feel old at all.  My mother just had her knee replaced.  She’s almost 80.  We were talking about aging and she said “I just don’t feel 78.”

They say you should use mental imagery to focus on your workout goals.  I’ve got the image alright–me with boobs.

This is Parker.  She lives with us.  You can see that she’s very worldly and sophisticated by her 8X10 glamour shot–not!  She was so found-in-a-box at a bus stop in front of the health department. 

Ray and I found her while going to work one day.  There were three kittins in a box.  One of them kept poking its head up, trying to jump out.  It was very headstrong–a quality I don’t like in a pet.  (Really,  my idea of the perfect pet is a cactus.)  I had a feeling that we would end up with one of them and Ms. HeadPoppy was definitely not the one I wanted.

But she’s the one we got.

You should have seen her.  Her ears looked so big that she resembled a little alien kitty from another planet.  We both took turns cuddling her.  This was not a shy cat.  She just marched right in and made her place in our home much to the dismay of our other cat Kaiser (RIP) who was seventeen at the time.  Poor old Kaiser hissed and growled like like an old lady fending off a mugger with an umbrella. 

The two of them didn’t get along.  Parker would walk up to Kaiser and bump into her with intent to knock her over–which is exactly why I don’t like “personable” pets.  At first I thought “The little bitch“ but then I remembered Kaiser as a kitten and how nasty she was to Amelia, the elder cat Ray had at that time.  Chalk one up for Kitty Karma.

Over time Parker grew into her ears, Kaiser passed on and Ms. Thing became the Mistress of her Domain (or so she thinks).

It’s a story.
Of a town called Bisbee…

There is a group of us in Bisbee that get together on Friday nights for a happy hour/potluck sort of thingy.  It’s a nice mix of people.  We always have a lot of fun. 

When Ray and I lived in town, we went every week.  During the summer out here in the country, it’s kind of hard for us to leave our house when we can be viewing a beautiful sunset while lounging in the pool.  We have not been to a “Friday night” for a while so it was really nice to see everyone again.

There was kind of a hiccup with the group a while back.  Without going into too much detail, I can just say it was great to see everybody back together again the way it used to be.  Really, really great.

Last night was special because we were celebrating Kevin’s birthday at his house with his wife Carrie (who is a total scream).  Kevin is a mechanic-Jack of all trades kind of guy and has the coolest Man Garage complete with a drum set (see photo).  Their whole place is cool!  It’s full of kitchy stuff and has a vintage retro vibe going on.  They even have geese and an iguana!

We all sat around  a fire pit laughing and eating.  Kevin opened his presents while we sang Happy Birthday.  I ate way too many chocolate chip cookies and had a total sugar buzz going on when I got home.  It took me a while to fall asleep…

To all the people that used to visit the Lopaka Lounge before it became a blog, you’ll be happy to know that I have added a Potlucks and Parties link on my site and last night’s photos are up.  The crazy party pics are back folks! 

You better look out.  I got my camera with me!

I always feel like there should be some sort of photo element to support each one of my blog entries.  The only problem is; some days I just don’t have an image that goes with what I’m writing about.   I suppose I could get my camera and snap one of those ubiquitous one-armed blogger self portraits but a little of that goes a long way.  Believe me, you don’t want to see my face over and over from my one good side.  Perhaps I can post extreme close ups!  When writing about the tunnel on highway 80 leading into Old Bisbee, I’ll post a giant picture of my nostril and Photoshop an eighteen wheeler coming out of it.

Since I’m always taking pictures and have a vast collection of images, I’ve decided to post my own photos regardless of weather or not they support my entry.  Hell, I’m an artist and photography is my medium (one of them anyway).  The whole point of having a blog was to hone my skills as a writer and showcase my creative work.  I have to let go of my petty insecurities and there’s no time like the present.  Here’s what lies on the road ahead for my blog.

From now on I’m:
Posting my own creative photos if I don’t have one that goes with my story
Not going to worry about the accuracy of my grammar
Going to speak my mind even if it upsets my mother

That’s all.  Just a short list I had to get it off my chest. 
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Blogroll
While writing this post, I noticed Brian of Cheap Blue Guitar added me to his blogroll–that actually sounds kind of like a moniker.

I am Cobban of Lopaka Lounge!  Be not afraid.  Go forth.  Be fruitful and multiply!

Cobban of the Lounge of Lopaka? Lopakaland?  Nah…

Thanks Brian of Cheap Blue Guitar !  <<cue the trumpet fanfare>>  It’s quite a compliment to have a fellow blogger acknowledge your work on their site.  The two people who really got me into blogging Jimbo and Homer have also added me.  In turn I have created my own blogroll with these three gentlemen (hopefully there will be more in the future). 

Ray called from the airport while I was en-route back to Bisbee.  I was returning from a meeting in Phoenix with two fellow IT peeps.  He told me his flight was delayed for an hour.  When he called back a short time later, he told me the flight was now delayed for two hours. 

He’s still there–in Chicago I mean–not at the airport.

We figured it would be best for him to return to Cathy’s place for the night.  (Thanks Cathy!)  I was looking forward to his return.  It’s been almost a week since I’ve seen him. 

Most of the time when we’re apart, it’s just for a couple of days.  It’s kind of nice to have some alone time but after a short period, I’m ready for some not-alone time.  Some most people who know me may find this hard to believe but…I can only take so much of myself! 

Alone time for me is like a fast and furious fling (say that ten times fast) with some guy.  At first I’m totally into it.  I’m in my own domain.  It’s all about me and my thoughts.  I can do whatever I want and I enjoy my own company.  On the end of the second day it’s kind of like “Oh look!  Yeah! Cool. Here I am……again.”  By the fourth day it’s “OK so…it’s me…all…alone here…with just me”

At this point I’m about to break up with myself.

My last post said that I could quit things with ease.  Cigarettes and alcohol–no problem.  I guess I was wrong ’cause I’m really jonesing for my man.  I don’t think I could quit him. 

Someone asked today if I was still on the wagon.  I was mildly taken aback.  It wasn’t necessarily what they said; it was the sudden realization that I’ve not had an adult beverage for a week. 

When I smoked, which was off and on for over 20 years, I could quit justlikethat.  I could go out drinking, buy a pack of cigarettes, smoke them all night and toss out the leftover ones the next morning.  It drove my cigarette smoking friends crazy.  

That’s just how I am. 

During the first couple of nights without cocktail hour it was hard to sleep, then the whole thought of cocktails just disappeared from my attention span. 

I had an O’Doul’s at the conference on Thursday.  It was an unusual experience.  After drinking two thirds of my beverage, I got this phantom sensation of beer-buzzedom.  I was getting kinda loopy until it dawned on me that there was no buzz going on; it was a just feeling based entirely on anticipation. 

It seems awkward to say on the wagon or dry.   The decision to stop drinking was more from a health and mental focus standpoint.  Yes, I drank every day–probably definitely too much, but it was reserved for cocktail hour after work.  There was no drinking during the day or to the point of excess at night.  I can’t function if I drink that much.  I know because I’ve tried many times.

Yes–I’m still on the wagon and can totally tell I’ve not had a drink for a week.  I’m so friggin’ sober I don’t know what to do with myself.  I swear to god, the wrinkles are starting to resurface on my brain.  At least I’m sleeping soundly through the night. 

This part of my challenge is not so hard.  The real benefit is the lack of caloric intake–not only from cutting out alcohol but from being coherent enough to avoid going back for seconds at dinnertime.  The big hurdle is the fitness routine that–like a total idiot–I promised myself.  I’m going to need all the help I can get on that one.  It sure is great to have Ray with me through all this.  Unfortunately, he left for Chicago while I was at the conference in Philly and we’ve not seen each other for several days.  (He tends to keep me on track when it comes to routines.)

Yeah, I quit things with ease.  Starting things…now that’s a different story.

I miss my Ray…