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This is Chilean gymnast Tomás Enrique González Sepúlveda:

He has a gold medal ‘stache.

Here’s more ‘stache sweetness here: 27 Things To Love About Tomás González.

We are going into the home stretch on the move to the West Coast. I have put in my official notice at work and am going about doing administrative things like cancelling my gym membership and stuff like that.

When I bike around town I think I am seeing things with different eyes – but just a little different. I look at things like the monuments and wonder if it’s the last time I’ll see them again. I reflect on that thought and ask myself “Am I OK with that?” and the answer is always “Yeah I’m cool with that.”

Sadly, American otter Nick Thoman was clean-shaven when he won the Silver in the 100-meter backstroke yesterday, but he has competed as an otter from time to time (click to embiggen):

And then listen to his voice:

More coverage on Nick over at Kenneth in the (212).

Thanks to boobob for this one (above).

Adorbs, even without the beard:

‘Ummerca!

BREAKING: he has also worn the ‘stache, multiplying his hotness tenfold.

So the hot Aussie otter I’d been rooting for didn’t fare so well, probably because he shaved his beard and wonderful auburn chest fur. The facial hair gods punished him and cast him down for his shavecrimes.

Not quite as ottery but inspirational: Bulgarian rings champ Jordan Jovtchev is 39 and made it to the finals:

Go grampaw! Jokes aside, he is an inspiration.

So more moving thoughts: I will miss the Atlantic beaches of Rehoboth, Fire Island and Provincetown. I had lots of good memories there and grew to like the Atlantic. I know the coasts are rockier on the Pacific side, so where do the gays gather in the summer? I haven’t heard of a west coast equivalent of Provincetown, for example. Palm Springs?

The summer Olympics usually aren’t as woofy as the winter olympics, but there are still a few otters to watch out for, like Australian swimmer James Magnussen:

Seriously, are those eyes for real?

Click to embiggen this one:

Aussie Aussie Otter!

TJ was horrified by this photo of a whole roast pig that I posted on Facebook this weekend. Sweetie – where do you think pork comes from – vines or bushes or something? Yes it’s true: your meat comes from dead animals and sometimes that isn’t pretty:

Besides, I know TJ has seen BrettCajun naked and it’s not such a different sight to behold.

Anyway the pig roast I went to on Saturday was fun and I ate the whole pig all by myself. There was rugby there too:

And it was good to catch up with some old rugby friends:

Heeeey gurls, happy Pride weekend in DC. I’m still recovering from the trip, just got back on Wednesday and had to work the last two days of the week. Before that, my jury duty had me serving right up to the day I left for England, which stressed me out to no end. We found the guy not guilty despite having a loaded 9mm semiautomatic with laser pointer in the glove compartment of a car that wasn’t his. There are many agonizing details, but basically the officer wasn’t as thorough as he could have been, and there were too many areas where there was reasonable doubt.

Anyway, I finished my mountain of laundry and am still going through photos, including the amazing trip to Iceland on the way back. More on that later. I didn’t take too many photos during the Bingham Cup tournament in Manchester as there was a lot of time playing and little time for taking photos, but others took some and here’s one of the side I was on (we brought two teams):

In the end neither team got any hardware, the competition at our level was fierce but we played well.

Grrr. At some point in the matches I got a hearty kick to the calf. At first I thought it was a cramp or pull, which would have been problematic, but I could run with a bruise:

It hurts more today than it did last week, I hope nothing is damaged.

Now it’s off to tons of Pride weekend events. I hope to get the amazing photos from Iceland up soon. I want to get back there again in the near future!

Pour one out today for Civil War General John A. Logan who founded Decoration Day in 1868, now called Memorial Day.

I had a nice weekend relaxing and catching up with friends at barbecues and such, which was nice after a stressy week last week doing jury duty. But we’re not done yet, and I have to report back tomorrow morning. I hope we deliberate quickly, because my plane leaves for Manchester, England tomorrow night. My bags are all packed and I’m ready to get to Dulles on a possibly very short time frame.

I’ll be going to play some rugby at the big gay International rugby tournament, the Bingham Cup. This will be my fifth Bingham Cup, and possibly my last. But I keep saying that every year. I may check out a curling team in the winter after this. I’ve been to the Cup play in San Francisco, New York, Dublin, and Minneapolis (I missed the one in London). This year the lovely Ben Cohen will be making an appearance or two at the Cup, I hope I am not too distracted by him.

Anyway, the Renegades are bringing two teams and I’ll be playing on our “B” or “Red” side. We are seeded in the same starting bracket with our A/Blue side which never makes any sense but they keep seeding us like that for some reason. There are a few teams we could beat in that bracket but we’re likely to drop down to the next level in tournament play. We shall see. But I’m still bringing it, memorizing President Laura Roslin’s Nikita Kruschev moment quote: “I will use every cannon, every bomb, every bullet, every weapon I have down to my own eye teeth to end you! I swear it! I’M COMING FOR ALL OF YOU!”

We played rugby on Saturday out in Frederick, Maryland. The pitch was between the city and the mountains and it was very scenic. But with woodticks. Both the Blue side and Red side played the same opposing side, which was really nice of them to play two matches as it gave those of us on the Red side time to play. The Blues are our starting side and the Red side is the 2nd team with old men and gimps like me. The Blues beat Frederick 22-12, then the Reds played the same team but lost 21-15 although it was a good match.

Here’s me with Miss Gertrude Pumpernickel before the Red side match.

Gertrude is the prettiest girl on the pitch!

I don’t normally go out after a match as I’m usually kind of ornery and not very well socialized on a rugby day, but it was the only day I could meet up with Butterfly Guy Doug who was in town for a conference. We met up at DuPont Italian Kitchen, then went to Cobalt. You know I always like how Cobalt has done something nice to their place every time you go there. I’m glad we’re through the particle board stage and dance boxes painted flat black era. Now that we can open our windows in the gay bars they’re getting nicer interiors.

It was good to finally meet Doug after linking to him for so long. He is an entomologist and knows a lot about butterflies and one day wishes to rediscover the giant Madagascar earwig, which is presumed extinct.

Anyway, after that we went to Rich Morel’s Hot Sauce, which is off the chain! Hot Sauce is coming to DC again on the 23rd of June, but was originally held in Baltimore. It’s sort of like Blowoff but with faster-paced music. I ended up staying out much longer than I expected, but I had fun.

I had just returned and unpacked from my Tucson trip when an unexpected work trip took me to San Antonio, Texas. There wasn’t much time to explore but I got an afternoon off and visited the Alamo:

I never found the basement but the gardens in the Alamo plaza were pretty.

After having a big ‘ol margarita, I explored the River Walk for a bit:

It was “Bring BrettCajun to work” that week in the office, and Brett and I posed for a picture:

Brett had difficulty with basic office functions, so we had him shred papers and sharpen pencils to keep him busy.

I didn’t see any roadrunners, but the coyote was catching up to me.

Unpack, laundry and a brief rest on Friday, then it was off for a day of rugby at the Southern Maryland Celtic Festival. In addition to a rugby tournament, there’s bagpipe and drum judging, large men in kilts throwing heavy objects, and a great view of the Chesapeake Bay. There were other nice things to look at too:

There were other woofy creatures at the festival as well, including this humongous Irish Wolfhound:

Our starting side was in the finals for our local rugby union playoffs, and they got 3rd place which wasn’t bad. Our 2nd side played at Celtic Fest and didn’t do as good as we had in previous years but everyone got some time to play. Can you see the bagpiper in this photo?

After working up a huge appetite playing in the matches, I got to have my semi-annual giant roast turkey leg:

Om nom nom…

Heeey! Sorry I’ve been absent. Been busy at work as the workload has increased with cutbacks in staffing. The agency I work for in the gub’ment has been offering early retirement and buyouts to help cut the federal budget, and people have been taking up the offers. The cubicles have been a ghost town where the only sound is the furious tap-tapping of keyboards from the remaining staff. Little time for blogging between that and rugby practice.

I played a little in our first match of the season yesterday. I would complain that I didn’t get enough game time but considering how sore I am today perhaps what little I did play may have been sufficient. Sleeping in and a few naps have regenerated me a little, but a back-intensive gardening session today wasn’t the best idea to top off the weekend. Grampaw Jimbo is sore.

But I managed to get out to one event for the Cherry party weekend here in DC. I shouldn’t have worn nice dress shoes and ironed shirt, as I have forgotten that you’ll just take your shirt off anyway it’s been so long that I’ve been to one of those events. The crowd has dwindled over the years but it was good to shake it for a bit. I went home after only an hour as my feet hurt from wearing cleats earlier in the day.

A story from The New York Times on the life and death of NY therapist Bob Bergeron stirred up some good discussion on the Facebooks this weekend. How could a therapist in his late forties who helped other gay men cope with aging gracefully have taken his life? He was about to finish a self-help book entitled “The Right Side of Forty: The Complete Guide to Happiness for Gay Men at Midlife and Beyond.”

The book was never published, but I will admit I might have checked out that book from the library, and it has been a discussion between me and my shrink earlier this year. While I haven’t lived the glamorous Chelsea life vacationing in Mykonos and whatnot, I have noticed a change in me and my 40something friends. Friends pair up and move out to the ‘burbs, getting married in one way or another, and/or don’t go out with the frequency we used to. Coming into this age requires a lot of self-reflection and repositioning of priorities, and looking more into what makes you happy and keeping you fulfilled. At least I am somewhat aware that you can’t party and go out 3+ nights a week forever and I don’t. I simply don’t have the energy for that anymore.

Some cope with this age by diving into their careers. I don’t know if it’s just a reality here in DC and NYC, or a symptom of the economy to work more for less for fear of losing your job, but I’ve seen a lot of that focus with friends as well. And perhaps my perception is skewed due to my education at an undergraduate college that had a wellness program that drove the idea of work/life balance home at every opportunity. The wellness indoctrination I got there definitely had an effect on how I look at work and living. I look for workplaces that don’t just give lip service to the idea of work/life balance, but practice it too. A person should be free to go home to do whatever they do to be happy at a reasonable hour, regardless of whether it’s to pick up your kid from daycare or get to rugby practice. I see good practice of work/life balance in my current workplace. Most nights most of my managers tear outta there by 5:30 and that’s a good thing. None of this staying until 8 crap, which I experienced working closer to downtown. I will stay late to get a project done, but won’t do that on a regular basis. There will always be work to do, and you can put in the hours to get what you think must be done, but even after that work will still be there to be done.

Go home already. That’s a start on living in my opinion. I may not have the secrets to the rest of the mysteries on being gay in your 40s, but I have a guess that visualizing your life beyond your 20s and 30s is important as well. Many choose not to think about that. What will you be doing in your 40s? What do you want to accomplish? What are your options to things you used to do but no longer want to accomplish? These questions are still being answered in my mind but thinking about them is a start.