The Homestretch of Summer

The girls go back to school next Tuesday. Usually I look forward to them going back to school, but this summer I really enjoyed sleeping in having them around. To celebrate the homestretch of summer we will be going camping with everyone else in the free world. My wife, who rocks, rented us a boat here:

and it will be FAB, I’m sure!

This will probably be our last trip with our tent-trailer/pop-up camper/caravanette because we are going to sell it and buy a BIGGER one so that we can be even more trailer trash!

So until Monday, friends on the Internet (*Thanks Be To Al Gore*) I bid you adieu!

A few bulleted points…

• My dear friend LeLo ROCKS. She has single handedly accomplished a political overthrow like no other. Go read it here.
  I’m so very proud of her and her voice. Go LeLo, you really rocked the blogosphere today!
• Yesterday as I was surfing some websites looking for some info, I came across a name of someone I recognized. Interestingly enough a few years ago I interviewed with a lesbian couple to be their Doula; they didn’t hire me, but I thought of them often, especially since it wasn’t long after that I came out my self. I wondered if they didn’t hire me because I was so straight and thought it was funny that, guess what? I wasn’t. So I found her name as an employee of Basic Rights Oregon and dropped her an e-mail. I don’t believe in coincidences and the universe will so often give us a little nudge. I knew if I didn’t write to her, our paths would cross again anyway so I should. Funny thing. In her nice e-mail back to me, the last line of her note was, “I’m sure our paths will cross again.” She and her wife now have two lovely children, of who she shared a photo with me. Made me smile.
• The closets are done. I just have one or two things left to do, label things with my new label maker, which I heart, and sort HG’s pictures. Later though, I’m done in the closet for now.
• Speaking of in the closet… My BFF Neighbor Judy called me after reading my last post and said, “So I’m a gay narcissist?” Uh-huh. Pretty much. Judy used to work with rock stars and she knows how to party like one, but that’s a story for another day…
• Also speaking of closets… Larry Craig said to reporters today, “Thanks for coming out.” That makes me chuckle. And Larry.  Dude. We don’t give a flying fuck if are gay. Why don’t you come out and give real gay sex (with, love maybe?) a try, instead of acting like a complete PERV!

  And these are the people who persecuted Bill Clinton?

• Speaking of Bill Clinton. His new book in titled, Giving? What does he know about that? I think Monica would agree that he’s all about, receiving if you know what I mean. Don’t get me wrong, I love Bill, I think he was one of the greatest presidents in history, but boyfriend needs to take turns, mmmkay?
• Last night I drank a wee too much wine and had a crying jag. Ever have one of those? I sobbed to HG for about an hour about everything and anything and told her I didn’t know why she loved me because I was a big fat loser. She just held me and wiped away my tears and told me how much she loved me. I really don’t deserve her, she is the greatest, most wonderful woman in the entire world. And she has fab boobs.
• That is all.

Out of the Closets

Well, the closets aren’t done.  I’m finishing tomorrow but I got side-tracked with shopping and block parties and HG cooking Tri-Tip while we socialized with all of our Straight Scary Suburbs Neighbors.

Well, our BFF Neighbor Judy is on the questionable side of straight, but she is married and monogamous, so for all intents and purposes, she’s straight.  She is also a narcissist, by her own admission, and wondered if I ever blogged about her.  When I told her “no,” she sort of had a pouty face to which I replied, “Would you like me to?” and she smiled and said, “Yes please.”  That was a few weeks ago, and because I don’t like to be told who or what or when I should or shouldn’t blog about, I’m only satisfying her need now, and I may not even tell her about it.

Speaking of being in the closet.

Last night I had a very strange dream about one of my male co-workers.  In the dream we were hugging, cuddling, and kanoodling. I like this guy very much, but I certainly would never think of kanoodling with him, even if I still liked boys, which I do not.  I also had a dream that I shot two men in the chest with a gun and killed them.  To my own defense, it was in self-defense and to be honest if it were real life I would have been the one dead because I couldn’t operate a hand-gun to, well, to save my life.  I told HG today that she needed to take me to the gun-shooting-place and teach me how to shoot a gun, just in case.

She ignored me.

Interestingly enough, I was more disturbed by the kanoodling with my co-worker dream than I was the shooting two people dead dream.

Tomorrow I will be out of the closets for good.  Well, at least until they’re a mess again, and even then, I won’t stay in for long.

Wish I could blog

But I’m being forced, (enslaved) into organizing closets.

Okay, maybe I was the one who came up with the idea to put in closet organizers/shelves to help store our crap loads of important items.

That didn’t mean that I wanted to do any work.

I’m a natural forewoman.  Delegator.  Supervisor.

I shouldn’t be sweating.

An Empty Space in My Heart

When I was married I had a lot of friends; loads of them actually and often they demanded a lot of my attention and often I demanded a lot of theirs. On several occasions I had such emotionally intense relationships that they became so intense they would end.

Our crunchy-herbal-tea-drinking-lesbian-relationship-counselor said that this is pretty typical for heterosexual women in unfulfilled relationships. This made sense to me and perhaps I spent a little time reflecting on this fact this past week.

My friends, my best girlfriends, fed me emotionally. They filled a space for me that would not, could not be filled by my husband. Once, while my then-husband and I were having dinner in a restaurant he looked at me across the table and said, “You need to get your emotional needs met elsewhere.”

So a few months later we were divorced and I got my emotional needs elsewhere. I’m pretty sure that wasn’t exactly what he meant, but that’s exactly what happened.

The friends that I had, thought I had, fell by the wayside. Except for a few, (okay two,) friends that are still regularly in my life everyone else disappeared. I got over this simply by telling myself that they weren’t really my friends anyway and I hadn’t lost anything.

I hadn’t lost anything, except history.

When I was fifteen years old I made friends with Sherry. She was two years older than I was (a senior when I was a sophomore,) and I thought she was super cool. We became fast friends and continued to be for the next twenty years. We worked together, spent our summers together, I visited her at college all the time, we made time for each other wherever we were in our lives. When we were teenagers we would shower together, sleep in the same bed together do everything together, (no, it was never sexual, I didn’t know about that then…)  we grew up, got a little older, I moved three thousand miles away from her, but still we maintained our relationship. There were months that we would have huge phone bills from talking every day, and our respective husbands would scold us. I found out I was expecting DD#1 and a few weeks later she found out she was expecting a baby herself. She was my maid of honor during wedding #1, I flew to Philadelphia to be her matron of honor at her wedding, she is DD#1’s godmother, I’m her daughter’s godmother. She was the closest person in my life, closer than a friend, closer even than a sister. Every time that we would see each other it would be as if no time had passed at all and there was never any weirdness. I told her everything, she told me everything and we loved each other in a deep meaningful way, she was my best friend.

The day I told her I was getting divorced and that I thought I was a lesbian she didn’t have much to say. Two days later she called me back to tell me that she couldn’t believe that I would think it was okay to be a lesbian. She told me that through our life she had stood by me and supported me and stuck up for me, but this was something she could not support.

I spoke to her once since that time. She called me to see how I was. I talked to her as if nothing had happened and was polite and kind. That was about six months ago.

Last night I had a dream that she was waxing my legs or something, (Limpy, this is not sexual, stop it. . .) We were hanging out at her house, I was lying on this big bed and she was mixing up the wax; I guess we were having spa time. I was talking to her and telling her something about HG. She looked at me thoughtfully and said, “I think that’s a really good idea.” There was no weirdness and she was still my best friend; it was like no time had passed at all.

I woke up when the girls came home this morning. I tried to go back to sleep and dream the dream again, because I missed her, and the dream gave that friendship back to me for a short time.

Twenty years of friendship, twenty years of history, twenty years of memories- disappeared that day. And even though I know that there was nothing I could do to change this fact, I still feel that empty space in my heart where she used to be.

Weird how dreams will sometimes bring things out for a person. Pain always waits for a person, no matter how hard you try to stuff it away, it waits to be processed. I process my pain by blogging, (*Thanks Be To Al Gore*.) So I will now consider this pain processed.

And that is all.

Random RSG

HG and I hosted a small dinner party last night with a blog friend and her lovely partner; it was fab and we had lots of fun, and I got to set my table all pretty like I enjoy, (sans chargers Woo…) I decided the chargers would be overkill since it was only two courses (plus delicious dessert brought and baked by said guests,) and it wasn’t a major holiday. So no chargers. But plenty of other dishes.

If you ever happen to get a zit on your lip. Don’t pick it to the point that an entire layer of skin comes off. This is not good and it hurts like hell when you put alcohol on it. BTW, the Burt’s Bee’s blemish medicine? The very first ingredient is alcohol, and not the kind you drink.

I love having company because it gets stuff that we have put off done in our house. Like the curtains in DD#1’s room that we’ve had since June, and the curtain in our room that we’ve had since February. And the picture in our bedroom that our BFF Neighbor Judy gave us. Yeah, they’re all hung up now. And the house is really clean, the yard is mowed, and the laundry is done. (Not that our guests would be looking for dirty laundry, but it’s done nonetheless.) And all of these tasks were completed by my lovely wife, whom I adore with all my heart.

It’s cold here. Damn cold. Like 68 degrees, I’m wearing a sweatshirt. WTF? When is summer arriving in the NW? I would like to know.

I read an intense blog post today. Go read it.

The writer. Amazing.

I’m looking into school programs. The problem with my looking into school programs is that I haven’t quite figured out what I want to be when I grow up. I know I can be anything I want and that I’m smart (IQ high enough for MENSA but they’re a bunch of dorks…) I know I’m capable and strong. I have good support and motivation. But what to do?

I’m leaning towards a photographer of some sort, a writer of some sort, or a funeral director.

How random is that?

For now, I will settle for my Glamorous Waitressing Job which I am now off to.

Happy Weekend.

The front line is calm

In the war with Asshat.

Yesterday the girls had dental appointments in Salem, (which is a long way away from The Scary Suburbs, don’t even ask why I drive them there for the dentist, it’s a long ass story…)

And after the dentist, we were going to my Mom’s house to rip out her wall to wall carpet, (don’t ask, it’s a long ass story…)

So we decided to ALL go to the dentist, including Ginger and Wink.  We knew that Abby would sleep upstairs the whole time we were gone, but I didn’t want to take a chance leaving Ginger and her bad-ass-barking-self vulnerable to Asshat.

BTW, HG did a little investigating, and it looks like Asshat (we now know his name and age due to the power of the Internet, *Thanks Be To Al Gore*) as well a the fact that he may work for IBM.  I’m not sure why IBM would hire an Asshat like him, but I digress…

So we took the whole family, dogs included, to Salem to the dentist.  I had to wait in the car and go back and forth to consult with the dentist over my children’s (mainly DD#3’s) extensive dental issues, (looks like DD#3 may have all four front teeth pulled, and get this, IMPLANTS, yeah, that sounds expensive.)  I had to go back and forth to the car because me and my big fat mouth about the weather, caused us to have Sunny 87 degree weather yesterday.  So I had to leave the car running with the A/C on so I didn’t kill my dogs, (well my dog, and LeLo’s dog, same-same.)

So my children’s teeth are clean, I need to get two more jobs to pay for Dental Implants, my mom’s carpet is ripped up, (HG and I are so super BUTCH!) My mom fed us dinner and our dogs are safe and sound with no word from Asshat.  I have decided, however, that I think that HG and I need to install some big huge bright spotlights outside to shine right in his back yard, but first HG has to consult The Scary Suburbs Municipal Code’s to make sure it’s legal.

And for all of you who offered to come up here and kick his ass, and bring your huge ass dogs, and your guns and your knives.  Let’s do it!  We have a really big house and it will sleep a lot of people, plus the tent trailer, we could have a huge party, huge.  Well, Soozie’s dog takes up a lot of room, but we also have a three car garage, so we should be good.  Let’s all consult our Blackberry’s and figure out a good weekend, mmmkay?

Now, I must go to my Glamorous Waitressing Job.

That is all.

I *Do Not* Heart Conflict

I really don’t like conflict, at all. I’m not confrontational and I’ve worked in the service industry for so long, I’ve learned how to talk to people who are mad. I’m a pleaser, a negotiator, but a point-maker as well, (occasionally to a fault, I’m afraid.)

So imagine my distress when I came home from my Glamorous Waitressing Job yesterday to find that HG had pinned a note on the front door of our Asshat Neighbor, (photo above.) She toned down the note she was going to leave, so I was happy for that, but here it was:

Neighbor,

My partner informed me about the incident last night with our dogs and I must say I am quite appalled by your behavior. Normally our dogs do not sleep outside, but due to a temporary health concern it was necessary for them to have access to the yard. It was not our intention to leave our dogs outside to disturb or annoy you or any other neighbors and for this I apologize. Had I heard them barking I would have certainly put a stop to it as I try to do every afternoon to prevent you from screaming “shut up!” And just for the record, that does nothing to quiet the dogs and only creates animosity between neighbors.

In the future, if our dogs are disturbing you in the middle of the night I would request that you handle the matter appropriately, which would include:
a) Informing us that our dogs are disturbing you (the neighborly thing to do).
b) Calling the local police department and filing a noise complaint (not the neighborly thing to do, but well within your right).

I request that you DO NOT approach my property with any type of gun (air or otherwise) and attempt to handle the matter the way you did. This is not appropriate or legal and I will not tolerate it.

If you would like to talk further about this matter, please feel free to contact me. If not, I will assume this issue is resolved and hope for a more pleasant neighborly atmosphere.

Thank you for your understanding.

I’m sure it was a lot more understated than some of you would have written based on your comments from yesterday, (which we loved, BTW.) And I’m certain that SFG or Syd would have most likely showed up with some sort of firearm to deliver it. (Okay, maybe a big knife for SFG.) But HG left it on their door, we went on with our life and proceeded to barbecue last night for dinner.

That’s when the real conflict began.

Asshat Neighbor came over to the fence and confronted HG, asking her if she wrote him the letter, she replied she did and he WENT OFF.

Keep in mind, my three minor children were in the back yard at the time. They are smart enough to know when to exit, so they came in the house pretty quick, just in time for him to be Mother Fucking all over the place. All along, Ginger and Abby are going balistic barking at the Asshat and then his wife who came over to chime in.

I, being non-confrontational, tried my very best diplomacy to no avail. Asshat was dead set on being a confounded nuisance and express himself in his very best red-neck-in-the-NW display. First he insulted HG and told her that she had run-on sentences and poor grammar; asking her if she had even graduated high school. He then proceeded to tell us that we were going to have a “war” and that he was going to “fuck with us.”

(Minor children, in house, windows open, it’s summer.)

It all ended with a big “Fuck You” from him and RSG not happy at ALL.

Non-Confrontational, remember?

So.

What to do?

Well, we did the only reasonable thing and blew up his house filed a police report with a nice officer from the Scary Suburbs Police Department. We even have a case number. HG did most of the talking to the nice police officer and I made sure minor children (plus one who was sleeping over,) were upstairs in the family room watching a loud movie eating popcorn. I was sure to let the neighbors outside know what we were doing less they thought that the Scary Suburbs Police Department was coming to respond to HG beating me or me in a drunken rage, or both. (We try to only do that on weekends…)

So there you go. RSG, the peacelover is apparently in a “war” with the asshat neighbor who apparently has an anger management problem and likes to pop off air guns at 2:30 in the morning when he hears a dog barking.

Oh, and for clarification sake.

The dogs don’t usually have access to outside at night. We lock the dog door and they sleep in our room. But the other night Abby had some “tummy problems” and seeing how we just spent a lot of time and money replacing our carpet because of her past “tummy problems” we wanted to be sure she could go outside.

Asshat, who claims to have bad asthma and sleeps with the windows open says Ginger was barking at 2:30 so in order to shut her up, shot her with an air gun. My neighbor two doors down heard the whole thing and said that Ginger barked for less than a minute but Asshat was screaming his lungs out at her, then she heard the popping noise of the gun, Ginger barked again and that was that.

What I think is that Asshat got up to smoke, (because he does this, never mind his bad asthma,) Ginger heard him outside, barked at him, and he got mad, (anger-management issues,) then shot her, which incidentally is illegal within the Scary Suburbs City Limits, according to the nice police officer. She’s not hurt, but that’s not the point. The point is, that HE is not nice.

So, when are y’all coming out here to kick his ass???

It’s August

In the Pacific Northwest.

Typically this means lovely, hot, sunny weather enjoyed on one’s back porch or at a park, or maybe a hike.

Today?  Every day for the past several days?

Not so much on the sun.  Or the heat.

The current temperature right now is 60 degrees.  Yes, you heard me correctly, 60 degrees (Fahrenheit, and I don’t know how to do that Celsius conversion, I’m an American for God’s sake.) What is wrong with that picture? (The weather, not me being an American, that’s no one’s fault but my parents.)
Yeah, it’s cold.

I’m sitting here in my living room with my flannel pajama bottoms and a hoody sweatshirt contemplating putting on some socks and turning my fireplace on.  In August.

I remember my first summer living in the NW.  It was also the first summer that Shelly lived here as well and we spent much of it together.  We would take my dogs outside to go potty wearing jackets and gloves, in June.  Of course, we had both moved to the NW from very warm climates, me from south Florida, and Shelly from Houston, but still.  Jackets and gloves, in June?  That was 1992 and honestly I don’t recall another summer quite this cool since then.

So much for sumer clothes, good thing my wife takes me to warm places on vacation, like here.

Besides freezing my ass off.  Life is good (today,) and I have tremendous faith that it will continue to be this week, (and forever after, but let’s not push it.)

Oh, and did you see my new header?  That’s from my new BFF, Ashley.  She rocks.

And one final thing.

If you are the un-neighborly neighbor of ours who yells at our dogs for barking and shot Ginger with an air gun to get her to stop barking, I’d watch out if I were you.

HG is not so on the happy side of this issue and I don’t suggest fucking with HG.  She will fuck you up.  And if she needs some help,  SFG will surely fly out here from NO and help a sister out.

That is all.

Happy Monday.

Stay warm.

Be the change

that you want to see in the world.

It’s fucking exhausting.