Though I do feel some better, I had a bad migraine last night and decided to go to bed early. So I’m taking another day off from blogging. Hopefully, I will feel much better by tonight and be able to actually write a decent post for tomorrow.

I think it’s my allergies acting up. I woke up (well wake up is not the right word because without coffee, in not really awake) yesterday just feeling yucky. Just tired and achy all over, but not fever or flu-like, just achy. I went on to school, and it was an okay day at school, in fact some classes went exceptionally well, but I never did shake the yucky feeling. I’m hoping today will be better. I don’t want to be coming down with anything.

I saw this on Wicked Gay Blog and since I needed a quick post for today, I thought I’d copy it. I hope Dave won’t mind. I’ve followed his blog for about five or six years and always love what I find there.

Age, Sex, Location….and if you would be so kind, how long have you been reading The Closet Professor and how did you hear about my blog? And maybe even a little about you. I think it would be really neat to get to know some of you better.

I will get us started!!!

My name is Joe, I am a male, I live in Alabama, and I have been following this blog from the first day I started it a little over 4 years ago. Oh, and I am a 36 years, high school social studies and English teacher and occasional part-time college instructor looking for full time employment as a college instructor.

Some days, I’m just left scratching my head wondering what to write. Today is one of those days. And considering when I sat down to write this post last night, I realized just how late it was. I had a few ideas, such as the running program I am about to start or that I missed the 100th anniversary of the First World War which I had meant to commemorate. I’d have loved to write either of those posts but I simply dint have enough time to do so. Also, I had to go ahead and get some sleep, since I will be running errands with my granny this morning. So, I will try again tomorrow for a better post. Have a great day everyone.

I have to admit, I find men in glasses very attractive. I personally though hate wearing mine. I wear contacts most of the time. My own eyesight is pretty bad, which in turn means my glasses are very thick, and I don’t particularly look good in them. However, many men do, even when they think it makes them look dorky. I love dorky loveable guys, so glasses just make a guy more attractive. Take he guy above. He looks very sweet, and his eyes and half-smile give him a certain knowing look that speaks intelligence to me.

Dorothy Parker was extremely witty, but sometimes she was just wrong. She once said “Men seldom make passes at girls who wear glasses,” and she also said, “I require only three things of a man. He must be handsome, ruthless and stupid.” First of all, I think there are a lot of straight men who would make passes at girls who wear glasses, and I definitely think there are many gay men who will make passes at guys who wear glasses. Furthermore, glasses do tend to be a sign of intelligence. Those who read a lot, tend to need glasses. If I were to give my three requirements for a man, it would be handsome, kind, and intelligent. One out of three for Ms. Parker isn’t too bad, but I don’t want a man who is ruthless or stupid. Grant it, Dorothy Parker was rarely serious in her quips, so I won’t hold it against her.

So let me ask you guys two questions: Do you wear glasses? Do you find men who wear glasses attractive?

It was a long drive back from Dallas yesterday. We got home just after midnight. HRH was very happy to see me. We hadn’t seem each other for a week. My neighbor who checked on the house while I was gone said she stayed right in front of my bedroom door waiting for me to return. Today will be a day of rest. I need it.

Yesterday was a day of reflection for me. It was the anniversary of Grandmama’s death, but also I need up going to a funeral with a friend and neighbor. She had a former student die and that funeral was in the afternoon and then a young cousin die and the visitation that night was about two hours away. She’s an older lady, so I didn’t want her to be driving that far at night by herself, so I went and drove.

So it was a day of reflection on the long and wonderful life of my grandmama and the death of two young people. Grandmama was 89 when she died. These young people were 21 and 18. It shows how short life can be. It was a sad day, but I was glad my friend didn’t have to go through it alone.

Two years ago today, my beloved Grandmama passed away. I mourn the loss of Grandmama each day. Last night I read the post I did right after she died. Part of that post is below. This year I was able to read it without crying, but the sadness is still there everyday. What would have been her 91st birthday was a few weeks ago and I visited her grave. I cried then. I couldn’t help myself. Though she is now gone, she will forever live in my heart.

In January 1978, when I was six weeks old, my mother had to return to work. At the time, Mama was a public home health nurse. From that point on, I spent every week day with Grandmama, who kept me for Mama. When I started school, I spent every Friday night with Grandmama, and we ate supper with her every Wednesday night. During the summers, I spent the days with Grandmama again. My sister was also always there with us, but in the twenty-one months before I was born, my sister was with the nanny who had helped raise Mama.

After Grandmama retired from working in the factories, she began what would be her daily routine until my Grandfather’s death in 2001. She woke up at dawn each morning and made a pot of coffee, then she began making breakfast. Breakfast could be as simple as homemade buttermilk biscuits and sausage or as complex as biscuits, sausage, gravy, eggs, and grits. No matter, it was always a hearty breakfast. While Grandaddy was still working, she also packed his lunch each day. When breakfast was over, she cleaned up and did one of a few things. If it was Monday, she did her laundry for the week. If it was the summer, she spent the cool hours of the morning up in the fields picking peas, butter beans, corn, okra, squash, or whatever else they were growing that year. When she came back from the field, she would start dinner. When dinner was finished and eaten, she cleaned up and sat to watch her soap operas. During her “stories,” she often crocheted. About the middle of the afternoon, she started cooking supper, which was the most elaborate meal of the day. She was a true southern country cook, and the best I have ever known. (I’m a good cook, I learned from her, but I’m a pale imitation.). After supper, she cleaned up, and then finally had some time to rest. On Friday nights when we spent the night with her, after supper was time for Dallas and Falcon Crest.

Though she had her faults at times in her life, she was a good Christian woman. Before she became to sick to do so, she went to church every Sunday. She told me once that though she was raised and originally baptized a Baptist, when she was baptized into the Church of Christ, she knew she had found God and the right church. Incidentally, I have always felt the same way.

She was always proud of her grandchildren, but she and I had a special bond. That is what makes this so very hard. On her 89th birthday, she was so proud to have all of her family with her. She was still in relatively good health for an 89 year old woman with COPD. She especially loved her great-granddaughter, my precious little niece. She would have been overjoyed with her great-grandson who was born last week. Grandmama taught me patience, love, duty, and how to cook.

July is a tough month for our family. July is the month that both my granddaddy and grandmama died. Also, July 4th was my granddaddy’s favorite holiday. All of his side of the family would gather for a huge barbecue and fireworks. He lived for the entire family to come from as far south as Florida and as far north as Minnesota for that final Fourth of July. Though he was suffering from an aggressive cancer that destroyed his body and he couldn’t do the cooking that year, he was able to have a little bit of barbecue and baked beans. Then he died later that month. The Fourth of July has never been the same. Grandmama never again hosted a barbecue, though my daddy continued the tradition at their house. So July is a tough time of year for my family, but now we do have something to rejoice: a new baby boy has been born. We can now celebrate each July. We lost two tremendous people in this month, but gained a new one nearly a week ago.

For I reckon that the sufferings of this present time are not worthy to be compared with the glory which shall be revealed in us. (Romans 8:18 KJV)