GinGer Schnapp

In case you're wondering, the Gs in the title are hard Gs.

I rewrote the lyrics of a traditional song in honour of the birthday or a friend of mine. In reaction to his insistence on calling me "Buttercup" when we speak, I have taken to calling him "GinGer Schnapp" complete with a wide-arc snap when the hands are free and not too sore.

For the tune to which this is sung, try one of the original versions here or here.

When I First Came To This Land (GGS version)

When I first came to this land,

I was but a girly man,

So I got myself a schnapp,

And I did what I could.

And I called my schnapp, GinGer Schnapp,

Unrepentant girly man, I do what I can.

When I first came to this land,

I was but a girly man,

So I got myself some 'mos,

And I did what I could,

And I called my 'mos, tramps and hos,

And I called my schnapp, GinGer Schnapp,

Unrepentant girly man, I do what I can.

When I first came to this land,

I was but a girly man,

So I got myself a 'tude,

And I did what I could.

And I called my 'tude, watch it dude,

And I called my 'mos, tramps and hos,

And I called my schnapp, GinGer Schnapp,

Unrepentant girly man, I do what I can.

When I first came to this land,

I was but a girly man,

So I got myself some boots,

And I did what I could.

And I called my boots, big galoots,

And I called my 'tude, watch it dude,

And I called my 'mos, tramps and hos,

And I called my schnapp, GinGer Schnapp,

Unrepentant girly man, I do what I can.

When I first came to this land,

I was but a girly man,

So I got myself a grip,

And I did what I could.

And I called my grip, out don't flip,

And I called my boots, big galoots,

And I called my 'tude, watch it dude,

And I called my 'mos, tramps and hos,

And I called my schnapp, GinGer Schnapp,

Unrepentant girly man, I do what I can.

When I first came to this land,

I was but a girly man,

So I got myself some fun,

And I did what I could.

And I called my fun, no work done,

And I called my grip, out don't flip,

And I called my boots, big galoots,

And I called my 'tude, watch it dude,

And I called my 'mos, tramps and hos,

And I called my schnapp, GinGer Schnapp,

Unrepentant girly man, I do what I can.

Happy Birthday, GinGer Schnapp!

Simon Boccanegra

Once again to the opera last Saturday to see something that is apparently not often presented: Simon Boccanegra.

No politicians climbing over rows of seats this time, and we're not really sure whether we saw the Fraggle (woman in the fabulous feather coat that I imagined to be made of the tailfeathers of a thousand baby pheasants). We were not, however, without audience amusement.

There was a guy in the row ahead of us, a little more off to the side, who was wearing an outfit to stand out. At first my friend told us (we were a party of 3) that the guy was not wearing a shirt! We, of course, tried to position ourselves to see, even racing from the hall during the intermission to see if we could get ahead and glance back. Alas, he was too quick for us. We did make it back to our seats before he did and had an excellent perspective when he finally came back in with mere moments to spare.

He was wearing a motocross-style white leather jacket made by some trendy designer and under it, while not completely shirtless, he had only a very flimsy jersey knit top, open all the way to the navel. To make it all worse for us, his chest was nothing that we really wanted to look at too long.

Focus on the opera! A lovely experience, although great parts of the story take place off stage and are explained to us in some of the longest surtitles ever. The chef d'orchestre was a woman, which was a welcome first in my 3-year opera experience in Montréal and the music was beautifully played and sung.

If I had a particular critique about this production, I would say it was in the sets. They were rearranged in various ways for the different scenes, but didn't look all that different from each other. One would think that Genoa was a cookie cutter suburb, albeit one with soaring arches and lovely stonework. I'm not worldly enough to be able to compare the sets to the actual architecture of Genoa, but I am willing to guess that it is more varied.

The other thing that bothered me was that I was too often aware of the spotlight. It seems to me that the spotlight should not be visible on the scenery (even the house wall), but it was throughout the opera. This annoyed me a bit, as I don't recall having noticed the spotlight so explicitly in past productions. Maybe bad set placement, bad coordination with the movements of the singers/actors. (Yikes! Do we call them singers or actors in the opera?)

Once again I will say that the singing was very lovely, if only to take away the sting of my harsh assessment of the sets and spotlight. The other aspect that I loved was the costumes. Those of the senators gathered in deliberation with the doge are an inspiration to me for something that I have resolved to do if I should win tons of money and can affort to be a public eccentric.

That story, however, will have to wait for another time.

Finally!

I suppose it has actually only been 9 days since I went to the optometrist and then selected multiple frames for the fabulous deal (buy 3, get 3), but it still seems like forever since the old glasses broke only 3 days ago.

So here's that first look at my new glasses:

Okay, just kidding. Those are some new glasses underneath, but the dominant image is the 3-D glasses I was wearing to see Alice in Wonderland ("I need a pig here!").

Bob would have me do this:

I think not, oh helpful one!

Here is my lovely selection of frames:

The last two also come with magnetically attachable sunglasses:

I am most relieved indeed to have new glasses and multiple backups.

Now maybe I will be able to see the slides at the front of the room in my ongoing conference tomorrow morning.

Foreseeable

I knew it was coming. That didn't make it any easier to accept, even as it made it easier to plan for.

About a week ago, I casually wiped my glasses with the bottom of my sweater as I have done so often in the past. They came back up seriously twisted, and that was the moment I realized they had entered the fragile zone. They were not long for this world.

I immediately booked an appointment with the optometrist at a nearby optical outlet. For the next day, as it turned out: she is there only two afternoons a week. Another health care professional who didn't bat an eye when I disclosed my HIV status (Did I have any health problems, she asked. I disclosed my status more to explain the potentially vision-impacting treatment I am taking for my psoriatic arthritis, the effects of which she then explained to me more clearly than anyone else has in the past.)

As luck would have it, a promotion at the store: three pairs of glasses with just-discontinued frames, lenses and clip on sunglasses included (well, for 2 of 3) all for less than $900. I might have been more upset by that before my [no longer so] new job and before the impending urgency of the state of my actual glasses. It actually seems like quite a bargain in light of all of those elements.

Ten days to wait for the new ones. Now when would it happen?

I handled them oh so carefully through the entire weekend of the 6th Canadian Skills Building Symposium on HIV/AIDS, where I had some official duties to perform. They held. A day and a half of time to recover from that demanding weekend, including a rare and enjoyable Monday afternoon movie with a friend. They held.

I got the idea that this would be the day as I dashed off to a meeting this morning. When you have progressive lenses, there is something about their being at slightly different angles that becomes disturbingly noticeable. When I had to straighten them several times on the metro en route to my meeting, I got the sense of foreboding. They didn't last through the meeting, snapping about an hour into things.

Luckily, I had been carrying around my flawed but more solid previous glasses since the day after the sweater incident, and the transition was quite smooth for me. I don't feel comfy in these and I'm looking forward to the impending delivery of my new choices.

Cross-pollination

I've never really put any pictures of myself on this blog, partly because it's about what's going on inside my head, partly because I have been having terrible body image problems over the last few years with weight gain. Now I'm sort of making an exception to that practice, but you will have to go elsewhere to actually see me in action.

Since Thursday, I have been participating in the 6th Canadian HIV/AIDS Skills Building Symposium here in Montréal. Bob, who you can also see here, asked me to do a short interview with him for PositiveLite.com, a collective blog we are both involved in with a number of other people. I was happy to oblige, even though I'm sure I'll have all my image issues when it gets posted.

Here's the trade-off – Bob promoting the eventual posting of the video over at PositiveLite.com:

Just to clear up a few issues in the video Bob shot…I'm not actively soliciting applications for boyfriend, but if any unsolicited ones should happen to roll in…well, who am I to be rude?

And the question he didn't ask? Black. My favourite colour is black. Just like my heart. ;-)

Post script: the interview is now up and can be seen here!