When I got home, Michael came out to help me unload, and he pointed out something I had missed: a fairy ring! Toadstools coming up in a large ring on the lawn, right next to the car. So I had to take a picture…
Tag Archives: life
Everyone looks great in purple!
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And everyone can be someone:
.
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And everyone can help:
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Come out, come out, wherever you are!
Since I am still occasionally surprised to learn that someone I know or work with hasn’t figured out that I’m gay: my husband (Michael) and I are both men, and we’re very much in love with each other and happy together.
Corvair Convertible?
Michael came down sick the day after the con, and more than a week later is still not well. So he had commented Monday evening that I had really lucked out. I didn’t disagree with him outloud, because I did think I was recovering faster than he was, but I also knew I wasn’t well, yet.
Then Tuesday morning we both slept through both alarms, and my head and throat hurt way more than they had on my worst day previously, and I had a fever. So I didn’t go into the office. I worked a bit more than half the day from home, took a couple of naps, and tried to take it easy.
This morning, I woke up before the first alarm. I went to the front door and looked outside, and the day was beautiful: a hint of recent rain in the air, a cool but clear day. I took a shower and proceeded with getting ready. I got to the front door and opened it and it was raining super, super hard, flooded street, and there, trying to maneuver a beautiful, green 1969 Corvair Convertible through the flood waters, was Whoopi Goldberg. Of course, I ran out to try to help her!
And then I started coughing so hard I woke myself up. I rolled over and saw that it was almost time for the second alarm to go off. It took me about five minutes to get it through my head that everything I just wrote about in that paragraph was a dream. I had dreamed that I got up, et cetera, et cetera. Obviously the Whoopi Goldberg part was a dream, but everything before that had been so real.
I still have a fever. Today I have a cough. I’m going to work from home, again.
But the worst part of the dumb dream thing isn’t the disorientation I felt this morning while I trying to wake up and figure out what was real.
It’s the fact that there is no green Corvair convertible parked on our block.
Stripes and stars
My coming out process had been slow and incremental. I spent most of my teens wrestling with the idea, trying to convince myself that I wasn’t gay. For a long time I tried to be either bisexual or resign myself to a life a celibacy. I don’t want to get into the psycho-social reasons that some of us gay people cling to a bisexual identity for a while (and the disservice that does to actual bi people). Julie and I became active in a very out lesbian & gay chorus while we were still married to each other. By then a lot of people knew that I wasn’t heterosexual. But a lot of people didn’t. Most of my friends who knew seemed to be all right with it, but no one in my family knew.
I had wanted to come out to the family (and some old friends who were still in the dark at the time) earlier, but had been talked out of it. After Julie and I legally separated and I was finally able to admit aloud that I was definitely not bi, I felt a need to make a definitive statement.
Would lose my head if it weren’t attached
I’ll be on my way out the door and realize that I left the travel mug full of coffee that I just made to take with me behind, so I go to get it, and it isn’t in the kitchen where I thought it was, so I have to wander around the house trying to figure out where I set it down. I’ll eventually find it near a light switch I turned off before leaving, and then when I get to the door I’ll realize that I don’t have my keys. The keys that were just in my hand a minute ago before I started looking for the coffee. And don’t think I set the keys down where the coffee mug was, because that would be too easy, no they’re going to be somewhere else entirely.
I’ve managed to waste an entire hour sometimes just trying to find things I had a second ago that I need to take with me on an errand.
So back in August I wasn’t that surprised when I received a box in the mail from a hotel I had stayed at the week before…
I did again
And most years, despite all that, I forget.
Forget isn’t quite the right word, because I set reminders on all of my devices. But those reminders invariably show up while I’m in the middle of something. “Okay, when I get home, I’ll take care of it,” I think.
Again, and again, and again…
Being prime
Last year my age was divisible by 2 (more than once) and 13. The year before that by 3 and 17. The year before that by 5 (more than once) and 2. I could keep going, but I know if I do I will give some of you flashbacks to failed algebra quizzes.
The upshot is, that it has been six years since my age was a prime number.
It’s good to be prime, again.
Tumbling
Not the best way to be remembered
This ought to be the last post about Mr Drunk and Ms Drunker, the former neighbors.
Friday night, our landlady had a party, to which she had invited everyone in our building, plus everyone in the building (not owned by her) in which Drunk and Drunker had lived, and a few other people to celebrate (or commemorate or maybe just commiserate) the leaving of Drunk and Drunker…
Font Folly 