Month: February 2005 (Page 4 of 6)

OK, so you know I was raised in the utter sticks, but did you know I was raised by hippies? Hippies who got fired from their social worker jobs when my father tried to start a union? And we lived on a quasi-commune in Iowa, which goes over like an iron dirigible when you’re talking about a sheltered conclave of conservative, religious people who really don’t want to think about anyone being different from them?
Oh, yeah. Well, all that happened. Oodles of stories, my own personal Kafka novella. Raised without television and indoor plumbing until 9th grade. (And then, we only got the toilet. Dad didn’t get a tv until a couple years ago. Now he’s Mr. MacDaddy Plasma screen. Go figure.)

So, my father being an artist, we spent summers travelling to art fairs around the country. I saw all sorts of people…. all sorts of art….. all sorts of highway. I still remember that bizarre mix of being 10 going on 32. My dad and I walked by a couple of hippies in Madison, Wisconsin, and I said, “They’re smoking pot!” And Dad got all wigged out, “How do you know what pot smells like?” Uh, Dad. You may have stopped smoking pot, but I still figured it out when I was like, 6. You didn’t label me precocious for just learning how to read, duuuuude. :)

Anyway, as we travelled the country, I met a wacky wonderful lady, also an artist, who introduced me to my “Uncle Michael”. Uncle Michael had a partner (I don’t remember his name) and Uncle Michael was a dentist. And had been married, and had a 12-year old daughter. A daughter he couldn’t see, because his wife had custody, and a gay man could never be fit to be a parent, and why not, it was the early 80’s and gay men hadn’t even started spreading the plague yet. I was apalled that he couldn’t see his daughter. And that, dear friends, is when one of my bright flames of justice burst forth inside of me. (pun intended!) All through college and beyond, I have attracted gay men the way a 60-watt bulb on a humid summer night attracts bugs. Even now, and I don’t know if it’s my style, my size, or some pheromone I emit, but most gay men just click right onto me, like a Lego snapping into place. And ooooh how I adore it. I used to frequent the gay clubs with some regularity, and enjoyed the freedom/lack of pressure those places seemed to provide. How can you go wrong with great dance music, and no pressure to meet your life partner? You can be outrageous and it’s accepted. You can be bitchy and you get crowned with a tiara. You can even kiss them and never have to wonder the next day if they’re going to call you again. Because they will. I realize people find it easier to hate what they fear, than to work through their fears and find tolerance, but easy doesn’t equal right. I only have to think about Matthew Shepard and my heart grows so heavy, that such hatred and violence exists in the world, towards individuals I consider as close or closer than family. But I shall not end on a sad note. After all, there is still much dancing to be danced, and parties to be impeccably hosted, and gossip to be shared.

To all my wonderful gay friends, I toast you with a raspberry champagne cocktail. With a cherry. And an umbrella. And a twist. With plenty of lipstick on. (Would I toast you any other way? I think NOT.)

A work meeting degenerated into a funny discussion the other day, centering on all the horrible things we wanted to have happen to us when we were kids, because we were stupid and didn’t know any better. Confessions Revealed: I wanted mumps like NOBODY’S business. I even tied bandanas around my head (under my chin) to see what that would feel like & play Pretend Mumps. I wanted to stay home from school and be waited on, I think. Something that is still on the top of my list, but I would rather be fine & dandy, not laid up with the mumps. Both of us wanted a broken limb – again, something we never got – for the attention and the Glorious Cast-Signing that seemed to accompany everyone else who was “lucky” enough to break an arm or a leg. (Bonus: with a leg injury, came the covetous CRUTCHES!) I wanted a back brace, because the prettiest girl in school had a slight curvature in her spine & she had one, therefore it was THE thing to covet. We both wanted braces, or at least a retainer. Apparently she would undo her notebook wire & make Faux Braces. I just wanted those adorable, colored rubber bands. Of course we know better now, and there are days I find myself beseeching all that is powerful in the universe to keep me from falling down and having to experience even a mild sprain. But, when you’re young, you’re rather idiotic, and I guess that’s why it’s so funny to look back on it all now, knowing just how ludicrous those wishes were.

The winner in this pitiful comparison? My friend wanted headgear.

HEADGEAR.
I am still laughing. She wins.

Add it to the list: Leaving work – leaving work LATE – and – drum roll – THE SUN IS STILL SHINING. Yay for rotational axis and all that other science stuff I barely recall now. Yay!

And, lest ye forget to be grateful, tomorrow? Friday. Mmmhmm. It’s nearly here. Rejoice and be merry.

After another email went out with improper usage of an apostrophe, I contacted my two allies, known rebel fighters against the ever-marching War on Grammar, and informed them that when the revolution finally happens, and I rule the world, a punctuation test will be issued to determine if you live in the Land of Happy or on a tundra, with a remedial notebook and only a penguin for reference. One was terribly excited that he would finally have a chance to live in the Land of Happy, though that was difficult to conclude because the reply was rife with punctuation & grammatical errors. (Intentional, of course.) The other? She wants to be my Minister of Misused Apostrophes. I told her she could then issue “whipping’s”.

Yes. It is difficult being this perfect and snotty, ALL THE TIME. Pray you never have to carry the burden.

1. If I could, my next car would be a Sheriff car. With lights. I would NEVER BE LATE again. Or, conversely, I could do what I want even longer, and still arrive at the usual time.

2. If I could eat pad thai for breakfast today, I WOULD. I am Thai-riffic.

3. Billy Corrigan nailed it with the line, “Despite all my rage, I am still just a rat in a cage.”

I am annoyed at P.C. with his little happy announcement he plans to marry Camilla in April. Yes, they both look like horses and they can go gallop off together, but he was such a schmo and like any good child of the 80’s, my loyalties will always lie with Diana.

And come ON, his whole “hot phone sex chat” with Camilla? Where he wished he could be a tampon and live in her pocket? What is THAT? I guess he gets props for not wishing he were a maxi-pad with wings, but we may need to toss the analysis to the ever-entertaining, Sue Johanson.

I believe in fate (or Fate, however you like it), to some extent. I think things happen (or don’t happen) because something else is waiting to unfold. There have been things I’ve wanted in my life, jobs, relationships – that didn’t pan out. I think on both of those fronts, I needed to wait and meet JWo, which is why I didn’t get that glamorous job in San Francisco, and moved to Kansas City, instead. So, for some time, JWo has expressed his desire to own a Bowflex, and we started discussing it again this month, what with a tax refund on the horizon, and the fact they sell them that at the other powerful force in my life, CostCo.

So when we got home on Monday night, remember, that half-priced drink night? We’d run to CostCo first, for recordable DVDs they don’t sell, and other stuff we immediately needed – and as we exited, we were handed the Joyous Sheet of Coupons, and later that night we discovered the message being sent to us: $150 off a BowFlex. Next week. See? I am meant to have the body of a 50-year-old grandmother. Can you believe it? I’m still reeling.

Or, perhaps I should more accurately state,

“Ding! I am fried, I am done.”

DING!

I told my friend Julie I was “unnaturally excited” about her pregnancy, and sweet Lily has no idea how her crazy Unofficial Auntie Jen is going to dote on her. :) For starters, we present the absolutely adorable baby overalls and the hot pink hand-knit sweater I gave her at the baby shower.

The sweater is knit in ?yikes! I don’t remember, it’s acrylic, it’s a kid’s yarn, I bought it at The Studio. The pattern is wicked simple, it is a freebie from the KnitList gift exchange, and can be found here. The hair? That baby has some serious hair. Mamma has a head full o’ hair, and Lily definitely inherited her hair, it seems – and for now, it’s untameable, outrageous, and UBER CUTE! She’s just so pretty. And snuggly. When I held her, she completely curls her head & body into you. Insert your “awwwwws” here…..

We have the best hair ever.