Wow, Did I Have the Greatest Summer, Or What?

Wow…did I have the best summer vacation since I was 10, or what?

I did so much. I felt so much. I lived so much.

I traveled…I walked endless miles of beach..I felt the spray of salty sea air on my face…I jumped out of swings and landed in soft piles of sand that didn’t put my leg in casts…I waded up just enough to get my shorts wet in the ocean, and raced back against the tide, tempting fate…I rode my first Harley…I drove my first kayak…I laughed in bed, again and again….I had wonderful Chowder…I got dizzy and I felt my heart jump out of my chest…I had tears well up from feeling…I experienced kindness and expressed it…I thought about my kids and loved my love for them…I felt the love and caring of people close and not so close as I quit smoking…I talked to strangers and they didn’t bite…I felt the love of friends at a level movies should be made from…I learned patience…I loved my sister…I looked at my puppy and shook my head…I met someone who gave me hope that people are damned fine..I laughed with my mom who has a wicked sense of humor, despite the fact I’m a “gem”, and I’ve learned more in one month than I have in 45 years of living. Being present has something going for it. What a cool vacation.

You say that time is money
and money is time
so you got mind in ya money
and ya money on ya mind
But what about..
That crime thatcha did to get paid
And what about..
That bid, you can’t take it to your brain..

~ Black Eyed Peas feat. Jack Johnson

We Are Family, We’re Here, We’re Queer

San Diego Gay PRIDE was held this weekend, while I was in town.  Nice of them to coordinate with my schedule, huh?  What I truly love about being part of the Gay Community is that it is so inclusive of all types…check back in a couple of days on the pictures pages to see what I mean.  You can be a Leather Daddy, a Bear, a Bull Dyke, a Lipstick Lesbian, be mommies with babies, a Baby Dyke, a Transman or woman, you can look preppie or butch, dance like it’s 1999 in little teeny weeny (no pun intended) briefs or dress in white silk panties that oddly enough, resemble diapers—people are going to stare but no one is going to tell you you are wrong.  You may still wear a mullet or emulate the L Word Lesbians, or you could even be that rare Gay Man who makes poor fashion choices, and no one is going to demand the return of your Queer Card.  Sure, there are cliques and biases, prejudice and narrow mindedness in every community—but the one thing we all share is we are one true Community of Family.   It’s the same everywhere I’ve been for PRIDE—Omaha, Sacramento, Santa Cruz, San Antonio, Chicago, San Francisco, and so on—we are family.  Ironically, I’m a little worried that somehow that’s going to get lost as we assimilate and lose our uniqueness through the highly desired “acceptance” by the straight world—maybe it will take a little away from that understanding and comfort that comes from knowing we share some thread of the same back story in the path we’ve taken—we all have a coming out story, we’ve all had fears of being rejected by our families, employers, or landlords, or feared being bashed, and we all watch as people who have no clue what it means to be Gay make decisions that affect our lives.  So, all of my fellow queers—I hope you revel in your family this day, this month, this year!

 

We were ‘here, queer and weren’t gonna take it anymore’ and all that.

~ Paul Barwick

 

Celtic Madwomen

I know we did something yesterday…went somewhere…did something…oh yeah, we had a great day, which included great Mexican food at Miguel’s (and the wonderful Brigantine Margarita) and then the evening culminated with seeing The Celtic Women, a group of Irish vocalists who have kind of swept America by storm.  This is not particularly my favorite kind of music, but sitting on the seat we had, with the Bay breeze blowing on our back, it somehow worked for me.  

 

When getting to know someone, it could go either way whether you look at things through similar eyes, or are vastly different.  The concert being a case in point.  Irish singers may be all the rage in Ireland, but what they seemed to lack is a little stage presence.  They all came out in beautiful gowns, with their little hip swishing thing they had going on, but they didn’t move their arms—they just sort of kept them by their side as they swooshed and swayed. Now, I had this whole thing already going on in my head when we came out, and she said something about their arms, then we ended up doing imitations of each of the women, then the violinist, and then, of course, it was all over and we couldn’t stop laughing…

 

After a lovely walk along the Bay front and a little trip down the slide, we headed home to a house with no electricity.  A scheduled outage had started and we were in the dark, without fans, or lights, in the humid heat.  I was fine…I survived the second hottest July San Diego has ever had and all while having massive hormonal fluctuations and having quit smoking six days ago…miracle may be too strong a word, but somehow, I think it’s appropriate.

 

The world is born when two people kiss.

~ Octavio Paz

Mugged By The Humidity

When it gets hot in Sacramento, everyone has air conditioning, so it’s really not that big a worry.  In San Diego and San Francisco, hardly anyone has air conditioning, but with reason—it rarely gets that hot.  However, I have had the opportunity to experience both cities in the heat….now I remember what Iowa was like with the humidity…oy…but, the beach was nice…well, if you could get around the fact that most of the beachline in the City (on one side of the bridge) was closed due to waste contamination.  So, even this beautiful city is not perfect.

 

The company however, is. 

 

We spent some beachtime with Little Dog.  He likes to dig with his little feet down to the cool wet sand, but invariably digs all the sand at whomever is behind him…I think he does it on purpose.

 

I cooked tonight—first time in several weeks…no second time.  But, I cooked.  I need to get back into practice as I will be meal-makin’ ma again in about a week.

 

Tomorrow night is a little music enjoyment as we go see The Celtic Women, and hopefully, as wonderful a time tomorrow as I had today.  I’m pretty sure I will.  I like laughing—and at totally inappropriate moments—but, then I think they are wholly appropriate moments—I guess it’s all in your perspective.

 

It does not consist in gazing at each other, but in looking outward together in the same direction.
~ Antoine de Saint-Exupery

No Post

Lori is busy…check back tomorrow…JMD

Dreaming Of Little Puffs Of Smoke

Day Two goes a bit better.  I can still feel that the old brain cells are not firing, but I’m becoming less aware that my skin is crawling and like I want to leap at someone.  This leaping thing might be good, given the right context, but I don’t think that’s what my body is thinking right now.  I hid out in my office most of the day and occasionally ventured into other areas, where I found a nice poem of encouragement written on the whiteboard to help me in my quit smoking efforts…yesterday, I would have hurled something at the board, but today, I just smiled and said, “Ah, that’s sweet, thanks,” and only wanted to hurl something through the board.

 

Have a lot to get done tonight—so, I’ll just bid you a pleasant tomorrow—I know mine will be.

 

Smoking is one of the leading causes of statistics.

~ Fletcher Knebel

Smoke That Cigarette

Just like Angry Black Bitch, I thought I would quit smoking this year.  Promised the kids, promised myself.  I know everyone will be happy for me, but first, they have to get through my withdrawals with me—IF THEY DARE!  I thought I’d be okay today, going to work and keeping busy but the cravings filled my head, blocking out any other thought or idea.  Finally, about 1:30, I was ready to either strangle people (I thought I’d start with the 5^th floor), leap out a window (again, 5^th floor), or smoke a cigarette (or five of them).  I decided the safest place for me was home—asleep preferably, where I could get in no trouble.  Only problem was, I did doze off and dreamed of smoking.  Got up and wanted a smoke like I always do when I get up.  Ate some lunch at wanted a cig after, like I love to do after a meal.  About the only thing I didn’t try was having sex (fortunately, there were no offers this afternoon) because I knew where that would lead—me—to the car—in hopes of finding that one forgotten cigarette that somehow eluded my smoking dragnet yesterday (the expunging of the ashtrays, cigarette butts that might be smokable, lighters, and other accoutrement), hidden somewhere under the seat.  I’m pitiful.  And, I’ve been smoke-free for 22 hours.  I really had forgotten how difficult this was, but I’m going to keep plugging, but not puffing, away.

 

Thank heaven, I have given up smoking again!… God! I feel fit.  Homicidal, but fit.  A different man.  Irritable, moody, depressed, rude, nervy, perhaps; but the lungs are fine. 

 ~A.P. Herbert

Limerence

Four days off once again slid by.  I could get used to this.  But, then, how could I maintain my reputation as a chronic workaholic?  I had my first Harley ride today, despite my protests.  Chris (Red Hog Diary) talked me into a brief spin prior to his departure.  What Chris didn’t tell me is that the bike is wide.  This means my legs needed to stretch in a way they aren’t used to stretching.  I think I pulled something, no, I’m sure I did.  Hopefully, it will all be better in a couple of days.

 

Tonight was a beautiful night.  Not because it was 112 degrees, because it was, but because I had the chance to spend a lot of time with JMD.  That is always time well-spent, and always time I value.

 

Okay, tomorrow’s agenda is back to work. Drive on drill sergeant, drive on.

 

You may like a limerick, but I’m enjoying limerence.

~Moi

Napa Wine Tour

On Chris’ (Red Hog Diary) last full day here in the area, my sister Ang and I took him to Napa.  What we hadn’t anticipated is that the temperatures throughout the Central Valley would be hovering in the 108-112 range.  We hit Napa about 11:30 and started with a visit to Domaine Carneros, a winery that specializes in sparkling wines.  It was wonderful, as always, even though I was the designated driver and could not partake in the samples. Then, we moved on to Prager, which specializes in making California Ports.  Not a big fan, but they enjoyed—but too bad about the grouchy tasting purveyor.  Ang then wanted to try a winery she had never tried, so we pulled into the tiny Flora Springs, known for its Trilogy blend.  Finally, as the heat was relentless we decided to try to visit Niebaum Coppola, which since Angee’s last visit has become Rubicon Estates and charges $25 per tasting—we decided to pass on that.  Apparently, Francis Ford Coppola still owns the property, but had purchased another vineyard in another location and is shifting his focus on the higher end market for the Napa property. 

 

It’s important, when visitors come a callin’, to give them the best experience they can have.  Chris had the fortune to have two experts in their chosen area as tour guides—Viv for the San Francisco area and Angee for Napa.  He’s getting ready to roll out, gear packed, for his trip north to Ft. Bragg and a trip up Highway 1 where ultimately, he’ll meet up with his riding buddies somewhere near Tacoma—hope you’ll follow the rest of his adventures on his blog.  It’s been a great visit that I hope will be one of many.  I think his kids would fall in love with the place.  And, Chris, thanks for finally giving up your trademark, “Can you bring me an ashtray?” every time we went anywhere!

 

Back to reality for me tomorrow, but fortunately, only for a couple days.  I’m headed back down to San Diego for the last of my little mini-vacations.  The kids, who have been gone for exactly five weeks now, will be returning on August 5^th.  School start date is just around the corner from that, so it’s back to the routine—but, hey, it’s a pretty nice routine.

 

I’m looking at another 110 degree day here and I hear there is some bad stuff going on in Lebanon, so I better take some time and catch up on the news, pay my bills, do my laundry (but not before 8 pm—I’m Flexing My Power) and scrubbing my floor.  Oh, the glamorous life I lead!

 

Harley-Davidson motorcycle is more than just transportation. It really is an American icon and is one of a . . . handful that we’re left with culturally. I’d put it in the same class as jazz music.

~ Orvel Wilson

 

Chris Left His Heart In San Francisco

It was September of 1999 when I made my first trip to California.  My sister and my cousin, Sheri, hosted my visit and provided me with the perfect California experience.  Part of that experience was seeing San Francisco, Muir Woods, and the coastline drive on Highway 1.  I got to do that all over again yesterday as my friend Viv toured my friend Chris (Red Hog Diary) and I around the Bay Area.  We did Viv’s famous 3-bridge tour—coming into San Francisco on the Bay Bridge, touring the City heading over the Golden Gate into Sauselito, and heading home via the Richmond bridge.  Viv’s expertise was much needed.  She traversed the city streets with ease and managed to cover all the major tourist points.  Our day culminated with a walk through the Redwoods and then a brief foot dipping in the Pacific at Stinson Beach. 

 

By lunchtime, we had reached The Castro, the “gay” area of San Francisco.  Chris got a quick history lesson on some of our country’s gay history and struggle.  We lunched at Harvey’s, the establishment named in honor of murdered San Francisco Supervisor Harvey Milk. Milk, owner of the Castro Camera Shop, and who was called “The Mayor of the Castro,” and also was the first openly gay man serving in public office when he died in 1978 at the hands of deranged former Supervisor and police officer Dan White.  White also killed San Francisco Mayor George Moscone in the incident.    White, as some might remember, used the infamous “twinkie defense,” saying he was hopped up on sugar and couldn’t control himself.  After being released from prison, White took his own life. 

 

What also strikes me is that every time I go anywhere with either Viv or Chris, they end up engaging multiple people in conversation.  Me, I’d just have eaten my sandwich.  On this occasion, we were sitting next to two tables of different folks who all ended up entertaining me throughout lunch.  By the end of lunch, Chris and Viv had their life stories down to where there parents lived.  Later in the day, on the trip home, I heard Chris speaking to his daughter on the phone.  It went a little something like this:

 

CHRIS:  Hey, California is awesome, you have to come with me next year.

DAUGHTER:  Did you see a lot of gay people?

CHRIS:  Yeah, I saw a lot of different kinds of people.

DAUGHTER:  How did they look?

CHRIS:  They looked happy.

DAUGHTER:  That is so cool.

 

What I get from this is that our next generation, because of parents like Chris, will understand differences and not fear them, which will help make this world a better place for all of us to live. 

 

Oh…and I learned how to text message yesterday!

 

The most important political step that any gay man or lesbian can take is to come out of the closet. It’s been proven that it is easier to hate us and to fear us if you can’t see us.
~ Amanda Bearse