Wounded in International Warfare

Last Thursday morning, I was drying off from the shower and found two large blisters on the back of my upper right arm. I had slept with a heating pad the night before (bad idea, I know) to help my back and thought at first the blisters were burns from the unprotected pad. These blisters continued growing until Friday morning when they popped in the shower (I just love my shower time). Unlike other blisters I have "enjoyed," these popped blisters didn't heal quickly, but instead continued to play host to severe pain for several days. Odd, but I preferred to think of the blisters as a burn than something more significant.

Sunday morning, however, a two inch red oval on my left arm led me to believe my previous blisters were not a burn. Saturday, I had volunteered at the HRC dinner and thought the sunscreen must have missed that spot. In the course of an hour from first noticing the red oval, most of the center turned white, leaving a red ring. Cool, I thought as maybe it would just go away. I do not like sunburns, even if they are only a two inch oval.

After another hour, a small bump formed, then a small blister. An hour later, the blister had doubled in size. For the next few hours, I watched in horror as the blister grew to a size larger than anything I had experienced on my feet while hiking. The size and appearance of the blister changed so rapidly that I was reminded of the movie, Alien, where the creature popped out of the guy's stomach. I didn't know what was inside, but I didn't want it popping out.

In the course of eight hours, the red oval had grown into a huge blister, nearly the full two inches of the red oval. Pain started in my arms and I started feeling quite dizzy. It concerned me, but since I didn't know what it was, I thought it best to simply ignore it and hope it would go away (bad idea, I know). It didn't.

After waking on Monday to find my "growth" had not gone away as hoped and finding my popped blisters hurting more than ever with red infection signs, I went to the doctor. Unfortunately, my doctor was not available and the receptionist of "Urgent Care" didn't find my condition to be anything worth bothering the doctor about (don't get me started on how upset I was at waiting for hours only to be told the doctor had gone to lunch). So, I returned on Tuesday to see my doctor, having to wait only five minutes.

While draining the blister and wrapping me up, Dr. Coy (awesome guy, but get your own doctor. He's mine and I don't share well.) suggested it was probably a spider bite, but not a regular issue house spider. Ends up, I was bitten by a Chilean Recluse spider (see picture above). It is a cousin to the ever popular Brown Recluse spider, but comes with an international pedigree. Not sure if I should be honored or offended that a critter came all the way up from South America to insult me three times.

The Chilean Recluse is hard to catch because it doesn't spin webs to trap food. It is a hunter. It actively pursues prey, leaving no trace of where it has been. I tore the bed apart, but didn't find any sign of my international visitor. They are known to leap and catch flies and other mobile food sources while simply outrunning their victims on the ground. Many web sites do not list Utah as a place for the Chilean Recluse, but admit they like to travel (don't we all?). Since I hate to think of such an evil predator in my house, I'm asking for help in tracking and killing the creature. REWARD: I'll be happier than punch to buy the successful captor a shake of their choosing at Arctic Circle. Interested? While I know the lure of a shake will probably lead you all immediately to my doorstep, I caution you to remember this is not just any standard-issue battle, but an international war.

Cyber-Sluts, Gay Bingo and Mom

The Utah Cyber-Sluts are a group of gay men who put on dresses and outrageous wigs to raise money for charity. The "sluts" host a gay bingo every second Friday of the month. Half of the proceeds go to the Utah Pride Center, whose many programs and activities benefit the local LGBT community. The other half of the raised funds go to a charity in the community at large, such as the Lupus Foundation of Utah, the pediatric AIDS unit of Shriner's hospital and most recently, "Hope House" where families who need to relocate to the Salt Lake valley for medical reasons can live. The gentleman currently operating the house originally benefited from the house when he relocated for a heart transplant. Currently, seven families share Hope House.
Putting on a dress has never been in my interest. I'm really not into cross-dressing, but had to reconsider when I saw how the wild antics of the "sluts" were able to raise tons of money to help the community. In April, they raised over $1,100 at bingo and most recently, over $1,400. Hamming it up in a dress for charity has such a draw, that I enthusiastically auditioned and was accepted as a Utah Cyber-Slut. Pictures of me as Miss Shirley D. Licious will follow in a future blog entry.

To say my family, especially my mom, has been hesitant about my dressing up as a woman, even for charity, would be a massive understatement. Mom was so relieved when I couldn't get the costume together for the recent Utah Pride celebration. Mom is worried all her neighbors will see me on the news and know she is a bad mother. Well folks, this is the internet. For all mom's neighbors and extended family who may read this, please know my mom is a wonderful mom. Instead of cowering in shame at the prospect of them finding out about her gay son, I suggested she come to the bingo to see what it is I'm getting involved with. Who knows, maybe some day she will be proud of her gay son and all the charitable work he has done both inside and outside a dress.

When mom agreed to go with my to gay bingo, I was actually quite surprised. I've been out to my family 9 1/2 years and that was the first event my mom ever agreed to attend. Mom plays bingo when she can (company parties, and such). Although she rarely wins, mom loves the nervous energy and drama the game provides and I figured that if she would agree to any gay event, it would be the bingo, especially since it is not about being gay, but rather about having fun and raising money for charity. Mom was quite reluctant at first, but ended up having a wonderful time. She even posed with one of the Cyber-Sluts. Mom came SO close to winning a few times, but in the end, the prizes went to others.

More importantly than having a good time losing at bingo was when my mom leaned over and said she could absolutely see me dressed up as a Cyber-Slut hamming it up for the charity. For 30+ years, I have heard nothing but negative when she has seen a man in woman's clothes. Gay bingo broke down a huge barrier for her towards understanding me and gays in general. As I drove her home, she was so positive about the evening and how excited she was that I was finally fitting in. Mom saw that gays are not freaks, but rather good-hearted people who want to have a great time; the same as everyone else. It will not be a struggle to get her back. Marching with PFLAG in the Pride parade may be a few years off, but she said she would be very proud to see me in a dress raising money for charity. That nearly made me cry. It would have except I'm emotionally dead inside. That, however, is a story for another time.

A Day on the Train

On a lark, I called my niece, Rebecca and asked if she wanted to do something fun today. Of course she did. A few weeks back, I asked if she wanted to ride on the new Frontrunner train. She had been so excited that day that doing the prerequisite chores her mother imposed was not enough to dampen her spirits. That day did not work out, however, as 4,000 other people decided to take the same train and someone's mother didn't want to bother fighting the crowd. So, today was a make-up day and practice as Rebecca's birthday is coming soon and one of the many things she wants to do is ride the train. Today's trip was deemed a practice run so we could be train riding experts by the time her birthday trip came around. Rebecca is nearly five and her ringlet-filled hair and sassy smile made her just as cute as ever.

We met at the train station with her grandma and grandpa. Rebecca's mom was to meet us two stops away for breakfast at Doug and Emmy's (incredible scones that you simply must try if you haven't). After breakfast, most were getting into cars for the drive back to grandma's house. Rebecca and I, however, waved good-bye and set out for the train station.

While traveling back to the stop by grandma's house, we called our good friend, Josh, who recently moved to Germany. Rebecca misses Josh and frequently asks when he will come home. When the answer isn't what she wants to hear, she asks if we can call and at least leave a message. Unfortunately, due to the eight hour time difference, Josh is usually in bed or working. Today the timing worked out and they were able to catch up on old times before the train lumbered into the station. This meant a lot to Rebecca, who couldn't wait to tell her mom and grandma she had called Germany and spoke with her good friend, Josh.

Someone a few seats away was explaining that these new Frontrunner trains are an exact replica of those used in Germany. He seemed so proud to have known about European trains and so eager to share this knowledge with anyone who would listen. I knew about the similarities between these trains and those I rode in Germany a few months ago and desperately wanted to chime in with a little confirmed European knowledge of my own. I didn't, however. I let him have his moment. My moment was with Rebecca sharing a lovely afternoon riding the rails.

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A word about the brave ones (friends, I mean)

A word about friends. I don't have many. Some web sites show people with hundreds of friends. While I have profiles on many sites, my friend list is rarely in the double digits. Quality is much more important than quantity. Some say that is simply a lame excuse to justify feeling good about being an unpopular loser. Possibly. But those friends who have invested time enough to look past the exterior fat (yes, I know I'm overweight) and crass candor, discover there is a wonderful person inside. At least I tell myself they do. Being a friend of mine is not ever easy. Some can't handle the wild ride of my insecurities and frequently changing moods. I am largely misunderstood, even by those who claim to speak "Steven," but that is really why I am starting a blog. I want to document for them and everyone a little bit about what I really mean as I know the perception is frequently quite different. I have wonderful friends. Most can't stand to live within 500 miles of me and some flat-out die to get away, but that is another story. Thank you to all who have weathered the storm of my sometimes offensive tone. I would never intentionally hurt anyone, let alone someone who has taken a chance on being a friend.

I know that is not really flattering, but I am genuine, fiercely loyal and try to help whenever possible. If you are not frightened away as I am by clowns and others hiding behind a costume or other false appearance, drop me a line. I'm always looking for more friends and hope some day to find someone willing to take a friendship further.

Who is Steven B. Elmer?

Just who is Steven B. Elmer? Sometimes I wonder myself. Yes, I love Lucy. Doesn't everyone? Usually people in costume freak me out, especially being attacked by a Hershey chocolate bar a few years ago followed by the blatant mockery of a rather large frog from Florida. Clowns are very frightening to me. Granted, I love being squished in a car with a bunch of guys just like everyone else, but something about hiding their true feelings behind paint and a wig scares me. Mickey was the only thing I once wanted to see in Disneyland, but now a visit to the park would be an exercise in avoidance. I much prefer people to just be themselves. Honest, open communication is key to any successful relationship. Sometimes my candid phrasing gets me in trouble, but I really don't mean any harm. Most do not understand my sense of humor--to the point that some never know if I'm trying to be funny or serious. Some find this uncomfortable and feel it safer to not invest themselves enough to even become friends. I try to be warm, genuine and loyal. I enjoy my job most of the time, though I get frustrated sometimes when my hard work is not taken seriously and my dedication is questioned. I'm a very open person. If you have any questions or comments, please ask. You may not like the answer, but I believe it is better for you to not like the real me than to love someone you think I am, only to later be disappointed.

Politically, I strongly support Obama and urge you to as well.

Religiously, I was raised to be the best little Mormon boy in town, but that fell apart when I couldn't ignore the fact that I'm "gayer than a goose" (misquoting from Queer Duck). Sorry, girls, I'm gay. I love my female friends, though. They are unwaivering in their support, probably because they know I won't try to sleep with them. I'm "safe" in their eyes. Little do they realize, I would love to be a father and help raise a child. My support for marriage equality and gay adoption are passionate. Every child needs a loving home. Being gay doesn't mean I'm incapable in that regard. Of course, I would prefer to get a date first. One step at a time. If you are interested in going out, even if only as friends to a movie and cheese balls at Friday's (I LOVE Friday's cheese balls), let me know. I'm not as scary as even this post may make me sound.

Discovering the Unexpected at the Tulip Festival

April in Utah is a magical time. Weather this time of year is tricky. There is always an April snow storm that breaks many branches heavy with newly formed leaves. But the truly cold days are numbered, if not gone at least for the foreseeable future and a myriad of color explodes in an undeniable victory over Winter.

One of the things I have always loved doing in April is going to see the beautiful gardens at Temple Square and Thanksgiving Point. The latter hosts a Tulip Festival each April to celebrate the turn of season.











This year, however, the weather has been colder than I'd prefer and the flowers were mostly too scared to come out and play. My family figured they wouldn't dare (heavily) advertise a tulip festival if their guest of honor hadn't arrived. When we arrived, we were saddened to learn only 25% of the tulips were in bloom, but most of the daffodils and pansies were open. Not wanting to just get back in the car and cry on the way home, we went anyway and had fun with what flowers were brave enough to come out and say hello.

This bear gave me a fright. It is a little embarrassing, but as I bravely entered the cave, my mom suggested I use caution as there might be a bear inside. The cave was dark (before flash), but I rushed in largely without looking, confident I would not find a bear. I don't believe in fate and only somewhat believe in karma, but just then my niece Rebecca screamed that there was a bear and my confidence nearly had an accident right there on the cave floor. Luckily, the bear wasn't hungry because I don't like to share, especially when eating humble pie.

After exiting the "cave of wonders," mom, Michelle and I waited by a bush for Rebecca to pose her dad by the bronze baby foxes. This took a while as she can be quite a perfectionist (and needs to work on her bossy issues). The picture didn't work out, but a short time later, we were passing the same bush we had been standing by and a snake came out and nearly killed us all. Ok, so we didn't didn't die. Although I see all snakes regardless of variety as ruthless venomous killers, this one seemed quite disinterested in our lot and kept moving in an orderly slither across the path, over the dirt and into the rocks by the pond. In the picture, it is the stick-like creature in the middle, though I assure you it was not a stick. Sticks don't cause the kind of panic attack generally reserved for unexpected bears and other elements of nature. I was actually more startled at the bear than the snake, which really surprised me. I lived, if any of you wondered.