Weekend Sights

This is the tree with the pretty flowers under which I sat on Friday, and this is a shot of the flower garden into which I mixed horse manure this weekend.

Dave & Sugar

I can remember a time when Sunday afternoons meant afternoons on Midtown restaurant patios, usually with a vodka or tequila drink cold in my hands, and 2 or 3 of my closest friends. On a bad weekend, it would mean an afternoon with some guys that I didn't know really well, but I was trying to increase my circle of friends so I would accept an invitation from 2 friends to join their party. Or on a really bad weekend, it would rain and Red and I would shop "the miracle mile" of stores like Big Lots and Stein Mart on a particular stretch.

The best lesbian in the whole world, G, would often join the patio's and have one or two beers. Sometimes we would go to the second Mexican restaurant and bemoan the fact that Molly's does not have a patio, because the food at the second Mexican restaurant sucks, but the patio's great and the margaritas are cold.

On non-drinking days, we discovered a place that has a wonderful little singer that writes her own songs, and her music goes well with tea served with a slice of lime.

Today? Today my Sunday consisted of me wearing my slip on Wolverine boots, my "work" jeans, and shoveling horse manure into what I've claimed as "my" flower bed. So, there I am, shoveling horse manure from a pile onto a flat bed trailer, tossing it into the flower bed from there, and watching MyFella run the tiller. We put in a lot of pine ash and horse manure, and tilled it up good so the dirt will be ready for the plants. What plants, I don't really know yet.

Saturday I sat outside for a bit watching MyFella burn huge piles of pine needles down (which later went into the flower bed). Smoke was in the air, I was sitting under a tree, and a cool breeze was in the air.

I'm not sure exactly when my Sundays changed. I can't honestly say I love them now more than I love the other way. But I can say I love them just as much.

I probably need to keep vodka on hand up here, and find a job up here, that way I can have the work day, the vodka patio and not have to drive back.

That's what I'll do.

Drunk and Sober

There's nothing quite like passing out around 10p.m. drunk, then waking up around 3a.m. sober.

I'm just sayin'.

MyFella

MyFella and I are going to a party tomorrow night for the anniversary of some friends. I just wanna go on record and say that handsome man of mine surprised me and drove in tonight.

I guess he knows how lucky he is.

Maundy Thursday

This is the second year that I've attended Maundy Thursday services at church. It's a foot washing service, taken from the scripture about Jesus washing the feet of the disciples. It really takes a few minutes to get over the "uh, feet?" factor. After that, it's no big deal.

The set up they use at my church is nice. They have some really pretty glass bowls, and earthen ware pitchers, and the water is warm. I think that's the nicest part, that the water is warm.

I really enjoy the services at my church. They're just so pretty. I really feel like someone thinks through the service and blends the scripture with the songs and the sermon. Overall it's just pretty.

I wish I could show you somehow.

I think I like the concept of it better than the actuality of it.

or the other title, "This sucks."

Sissy and Kitten are moving. Actually they're not moving like future tense, they're moving like the house is empty, the movers have taken everything away, and tomorrow she takes Sass & Spyder and moves to the new town, many hours away.

See, Kitten took a big job a couple of years back with a big ol' company. They assigned him a project right here, and told him that when the project ended, they would transfer him to some other place. Like Canada. Chicago. New Orleans.

OK. For one, that time was some mystical time in the future. Two, I have a passport, so I felt like I could get to Canada. And three, Amtrak goes to the other two places, which I thought would be a fun way to get there.

Here's the problem ~ that mystical time? It's now. Like, right now. As in, they're gone.

No more cheesy Chinese buffets because it's Kitten's favorite. No more bookstore breaks with Sissy. No more pizza dates with Sass and Spyder.

I'm trying to tell myself that I can kid myself - what with things like email, cell phone texts, Facebook, etc. I'm trying to tell myself that except for not actually seeing them, I'll still be in contact with them.

Only I don't think I'm buying it. The new city is like an 8 or 9 hour drive away. That's far too far to go for a pizza date. Or a bookstore work date.

Sass wasn't even born yet when they moved here, and Spyder was like 3 when they gave birth to Sass. And now they're going to live way far away.

I'm really kind of over this. It sucks.

Weekend Off

You know MyFella and I live about 2 hours apart. So most every weekend one of us has to drive the trip, 4 hours round trip. But it's not a bad drive really. There is one way from house to house, and another way if I'm headed to/from work, which is about 40 miles South of where I live.

So usually early in the week we start talking about it, if we don't have plans already that necessitate a particular location, his or mine. Sometimes it's as simple as who wants to be where? Do I feel like a weekend in the country? Or it's as simple as a friend or family member having a birthday party, so the other comes in for it. No big deal, we've gotten accustomed to it.

In the beginning of our relationship, he would make the drive. That was before I met any of his family. He probably came every other weekend. Then once I had been up there, we started the negotiating. Once, after his father had been ill, I drove up there 5 times in a row because his father was too weak to feed the horses, throwing the hay out. Then one morning I saw his father in the garden pushing the electric tiller. I told MyFella, "Uh. I think your dad's scamming you. If he can push that electric tiller, he can throw a hay bale down."

But still, it's "all good" and it's just what we have to do to be who we are to each other.

Some weekends we used to negotiate as "off" just to save on gas and such. Maybe we both had things to do in our respective towns or whatever. So we'd schedule an off weekend. We haven't had one lately, but this weekend we scheduled one.

I slept late, went to a discussion at church, went to a big Expo with a friend, had dinner with some other good friends, which was over due. This morning I enjoyed the church service tremendously, and had an adventurous lunch date with friends at a place we'd never been before. I came home and played with some potted flowers, cleaned in the kitchen and such and did some around the house odds and ends that were on my "get to" list. All in all, a very enjoyable weekend.

Very enjoyable. And almost every single item was something I could not have done if I'd gone his way, or probably would not have done if he'd come my way.

And yet, I still wish we had been together.

Sappy and sentimental? Yeah. Why not.

"You have to stop hoping to be unemployed"

MyFella has told me time and time again.

You see, on February 15 my latest boss told me "You're not the guy for the job." He followed that up with "None of my bosses think you're the guy for the job." But in a sweeping moment of his magnanimous self, he's going to give me 90 days to "prove otherwise."

So now we're over 45 days into it, and I pretty much spend every one of them just wishing he would let me go. Give me a couple of weeks severance (or more) and unemployment. I'll be fine, at least for a while.

Yea yea, I know. Times are hard and there are people who can't find jobs anywhere. I understand. I know it's better to have a job with a boss I hate than no job at all. I get that.

I know the last time I was unemployed, it took me 6 months to find a job, and this one was it.

Still. I'm not exactly inspired.

At different times in the last 45+ days, my sleeping has been whack, I grind my teeth, I am completely nervous all day. I don't handle stress well.

I really think he would have done me a favor to just let me go, rather than leave me wondering every day and every week if I've done good enough to stay a little longer.

Ugh. Hate it.

"I know who holds the future, and I know who holds my hand."

an email to two friends I've had since high school, . . . about times from so very long ago . .

"So I'm at church this morning. First time I've been in a long time. And you know I really do enjoy going to church. And I really enjoy going here in Midtown.

So anyway, the service is nice, the songs by the choir are just exceptional today, the sermon was good. . . and then the closing song is "I know who holds tomorrow, and I know who holds my hand."

"Many things about tomorrow, I don't seem to understand" but I kind of let memories wash over me of the voices of Mrs. Peggy and Mrs. Mary, of a crowded back pew with the other kids . . . the way on Sunday morning I always sought out the pew with Moma Judy but on Sunday night sought out that back pew with the other teenagers. . . the sound of those two hollow doors on the swinging hinges . . . or the echoing sounds in the small fellowship hall. Or the way everyone had their spot, and some of the ladies of a mature age left afghans in their seat. So many good memories.

Gosh, that was a great place and a great time. ut the days and nights of church in a small Missionary Baptist Church, a long time ago . . .

another crush on an actor

And now in the latest addition of a string of gay crushes, Sam Adama. You could be my Capricorn lover on any planet.