Friday, October 28, 2005

depress this

I got to work at about 7:15 to hear such banging above my head that I thought people were going to fall throug the ceiling. Although it ended at 8, I still have the worst non-migraine headache I have ever had. The banging was due to renovation being done on the suite above me. I went to check it out, and men were scraping up tiles off the floor. Oy!

I've procrastinated so much work this week. And it's all past due now. Yet, my attention span is down to a matter of seconds. I'm addicted to the internet and desire constant stimulation.

Feeling like a loser today, and fat. FAT FAT FAT. Shit.

I hope it's a nice weekend. No-body's home. Just me and Rolf. Exciting, or scary?

and I'm roasting in the fucking shirt. Or maybe I'm sick, and the headache and the sweating are due to the flu. . . maybe I should decide while taking a nap at home.

hmmmmmmm

Wednesday, October 26, 2005

About C.F Buttcrack, and Dancing with Joy

Continued from yesterday.

I was pretty upset. I met Rolf for coffee and began to tell him the news I wrote up here yesterday. When I got to the part about my soon-to-be-ex-brother-in-law. . . I got choked up and was nearing an embarrassing sobbing extravaganza (while in line at the coffee shop.) So, I just had to tell him to read it instead because I didn't want to cry.

Since then I've found out some new things. While taking our ball room dancing class at Arthur Murray, my sister, Joy, filled me in on some missing details.

Shannon was in a pressure cooker type thing at work and didn't want it to continue. In addition to her "regular" job, she's been in training to be an executive officer (Ex. O.), which required a lot of travel, and assisting powerful people. She hated it. But she felt stuck, which is why she's had this breakdown. Now medicated, she took yesterday off from work, but did work out some things with her boss about what she wanted her life to be. . . ie NO Travel. The mentor/boss/friend told her that she could not just stay in the job she has, she's too smart for that. However, she also said that she wouldn't have to continue in the Ex. O. program or do any travel. So, that sounds just great.

Still, I was hoping that there was trouble in paradise for Shannon and Buttcrack. No such luck. Joy said that Buttcrack has no friends up here (as they've just relocated), so he's joined the Moose Club, and he goes there on Friday nights. So Friday nights are the Mother/Daughter night anyway. (I'm not quite sure why he'd be out so late that Shannon would stay the night at her mom's. . .) Joy said that Shannon is just like her, when she's upset she want's to spend time with her mother. And that Buttcrack has been very loving and supportive. . . which I really don't want to believe.

Then there's the part about that telephone call Russ received. I have not heard it. I guess I will. There dad didn't say that he'd "Knock their blocks off". . . After he said all the crap about divorcing the kids, his message to Russ said "And tell that stupid sister of your's that if I ever see her husband, I will knock his block off."

Well, that puts me in an odd position doesn't it. Seeing as I've come to think of him as Buttcrack, and I even have trouble remembering what his real name is; and (I believe) my niece is sick and he is taking good care of her. Plus, I really don't want to be in aggreement with a man (their dad) who would torture his children that way.

so, fuckin' hey, what can I do? I've got to stop the hate. I am buying him a belt for Christmas, but I'm going to stop calling him Buttcrack. That's so sad.

Tuesday, October 25, 2005

Hallelujah anyway. . .

I've been kicked in the butt. The contract I work on is not going to be renewed. There are a hundred people here who don't know what to do. We were told the worst case scenerio keeps us employed until February. I don't know how they figure that. I hate this job. I found out this morning and the news made me very happy. Now I am scared.

I want to win the lottery, to be laid off with full compensation, not offered a job with the company who pays me; and I want to go back to school full time. I have a year and a half left. Then I will have a. . . nothing. It's conservatory training for actors. If I went full time, could I finish in 9 months? How long does unemployment last? How many more roommates can I get. . .?

My niece, Shannon (24), is having a nervous breakdown. And not because she married C.F. Buttcrack. She cried all weekend long. And on Sunday night, while staying at her bosses house in order to make an early flight together, she had a panic attack and had to have her mother come pick her up . . . at 3AM. What's up with that? Where was her husband, Buttcrack? Joy had to go pick her up? And not Buttcrack? And she spent the night at Joy's house at least one night this weekend, crying; and she spent another night at her bosses house? Could there be trouble in Buttcrack Land? That's the best case scenerio. The worst is my constant fear since she was a teenager: that she is bi-polar.

Meanwhile, while Shannon was on her way to get medical intervention. . .

My soon to be ex-brother in law left a voice mail message for my nephew, Russ (23), saying that he wants nothing to do with him. . .he's divorcing the whole family. . ."tell your sister that if I ever see either of you again, I'll knock your block off."

So, even though Shannon is now sedated, that's the news she gets and she continues to sob. . . at my Sister's house. And Russ is sobbing downstairs. My sister, Joy, says she feels like she's in the psych ward. What should she do? The divorce could be final by December. I told her to hold her children close and that's all.

Where's the light? "In all things give thanks. . ." how's that?

I am thankful that Rolf loves me.
I am thankful that I am in therapy.
I am thankful that my nephew is having lunch with me today.
I am thankful that my neice has found she cannot settle for this soul sucking job.
I am thankful that Puck and Memae are here.
I am thankful that I am making progress on the house.
I am thankful that Rolf is working on his self.
I am thankful that Bemmy has started a BLOG.
I am thankful that this job will end.
I am thankful that we have two room-mates who pay us.
I am thankful that Fall is here.
I am thankful that I love my parents.
I am thankful that my sister and I are taking ball-room dancing classes.
I am thankful that I am
I am thankful that I am
I am thankful
I am

Saturday, October 22, 2005

Dancing with Joy

I get such a kick out of this.

After I finish my coffee, I'm going to a BALL ROOM DANCING CLASS with my SISTER!

I just found this party stats list from our housewarming and fist Christmas. YAY!

Total Invations 189
Total RSVPs 79
Total expected 63.2
Total guests 69
Total who live a gay life vicariously through their gay friends 1
Total maybe's 15
Total maybe's who showed up 4
Total no's 60
Total no response 35
Time Mary Ellen and Robin arrived 4:02
Time Toby and Brennan left 3:15
Number of hosts who were asleep on the floor at the time 1
Number of house guests who were asleep in a chair at the time 1
Total who got to view the pink sunset on the lake 5


Fewest Guests at any one time 2
Most Guests at one time 35
Total Rep. Vs. Dem Cat Fights 1
Total Children locked into the dog crate 1
Number of fun people Tommy and Shannon brought this time 2
Number of Tommy and Shannons guests wo were unwelcome 0
Number of Fabulous Flower Arrangements made by Tomas 1
# of Fab. Wreaths 2


Total number of votive holders made from apples 15
Total number of leftover crème puffs Vig had for breakfast 8


Total number of people who heard our old neighbor call our new neighbor an asshole interloper
2
Number of times that story was repeated 8
Total bottles of wine received as a host gift 19
Total bottles of wine to be regifted 3


Total number of people who told me they loved Margarita's Tirimisu 6
Total number of times Toby said of Deb's Pecan Praline Brownies "How much better do you need brownies to be that you'd put all that stuff on it", before he asked to take the leftovers home. 1
Total number of people at the party when Bemmy told Brubeck and Breitbart that the party was still going strong 2
Number of people here when they actually arrived 12
Number of people who left too soon 15
Number of people who stayed too long 1
Number of people who called for directions during the party 4
Number of minutes it took for Clair to gather her child, husband, and brother-in-law and say to the hosts "We've got to go before my child has a melt down. . .besides there's a midget republican asshole in your sun room, and I think I'm about to kill her. . Bye." 4
Number of times people asked "Are your outside lights supposed to blink like that?" 400

Thursday, October 20, 2005

Puck and Memae

We went to dinner at Puck and Memae's last night. I am so glad that they are here. Their new home is beautiful.

What does Memae mean? and how do you spell it. I had given her the nom de plume of Lori, but I keep hearing "She's such a Memae." I've gathered that it means "One who is possessed by her great-great Italian Grandmother from Boston." She tends to say things like"When are you boys coming to see me?" And "Oh, you're such good boys."

After dinner, while apologizing for not making cookies, she says since she and Puck are going out of town for the weekend, that we must take some leftovers home so they don't go bad.

She packed a whole grocery bag for us. She deboned the roasted chicken, and put the whole thing in there, packed up all the mashed potatoes (enough for 4), threw in a couple of handfuls of snacksized chocolate bars, a pound and a half of grapes, three bananas, and a whole onion. An onion!

Last week, before they found their apartment, we were watching Martha Stewart in the sun room. It was a beautiful day, all the doors were open overlooking the park. They showed the pregnant belly of this woman who was carrying sextuplets. Huge, so huge. Memae screamed out: "Oh My God!" And someone yelled "Oh My God" back from the park, perfectly mimicking her Boston accent. It was so funny! Me and Puck fell to the floor laughing so hard.

So, a memae - is it a bad word? I hope not cause that's what I want to call her here. I almost called her Lori last night, her previously assigned pen-name. I guess that would be better than calling her by Puck's ex's name, but still, it would be pretty weird if I called her Lori. Then again, I've also referred to myself as Vig, and to my significant-tormentor as Rolf out in the world. Nobody heard me, I caught myself just before I had some explaining to do. It's fun to give everyone a new name and it protects their identiy too, but I think it is causing a multiple personality disorder for me. "I am Vig, the enforcer! . . . wait, that's not me."

By the way, there's good news on the relationship front. I think things will be fine.

All the best,
Vig

Thursday, October 13, 2005

"What keeps you together?"

From the comments:

farmboyz said...
Our twenty-fourth anniversary is coming up in a few months. We would never even think of treating each other like that. What keeps you together?
8:37 PM

I read the above comment before bed last night. It's upsetting: so much said in so few words. But there is a very real question there: "What keeps you together?" Why not quit? Or maybe, why not be happy with what you've got. That's what my sister keeps saying: "Be Happy You've Got Someone!" Little does she know.

I'll tell you the truth. What keeps us together? Well, I can only speak for myself, although I do imagine that Rolf would agree with me: I love him. And when I don't (because everything has its season,) then it's just will power and commitment, and a little bit of denial.

We've had some awful times when I didn't love him or, if I did, I didn't want to. One six month period, while he was in the midst of many life crises; my life was a battlefield. I was justified in wanting to leave him then. But, I had to see him through because I just couldn't kick him when he was down, even though he took every bit of frustration and anger out at me. I refused to decide to leave him until that period of hell ended for him. The little love I still had for him was enough to get me through very dark days. Then if it didn't end for me, after the holidays, I was willing to leave. It was the right choice. Once he made it through his professional problems, our life was great again.

And it stayed pretty great for a good long while. This crap we're slinging at each other now is nothing compared to that experience.

I learned then, as inappropriate as it is, that when he treats me so bad it's a clear symptom that something is wrong in his life. It doesn't necessarily have to do with me. Something is wrong now. I am very worried about him.

But I'm sick of it. Or just plain sick. I can't escape from my own case of depression if he stays like this and I stay with him. So I'm very scared.

I am sure, that with the right help, he will find happiness again. I'm terribly afraid that he won't get help. What if I have to keep my word and insist on a temporary separation? I feel like I'm caught in a current. . well I don't know where that analogy was going . . downstream. . lost without a paddle. . throw me a life line?

I really don't see us breaking up. This is certainly a low point. In the only way I see how, I'm trying to bring him up with me as I recover from my own depression.

Also, if we were to break up, and I hadn't done every imaginable thing to hold us together, then I would have failed. If we still break up after I've made miraculous attempts at getting fixed, then I can say that the partnership failed, not me. And since I love him, that's the least I can do.

Monday, October 10, 2005

It was our 24th Anniversary.

It wasn't very good. I guess it's all in the way you look at it, really.

We went out to Ziegfields on Friday night. That was good. We danced, shared good laughs and old memories of dancing on that same dance floor 24 years ago. Plus Puck was there, as she had been in the beginning. We made it to bed with no hard feelings. I assumed it was going to be a hot night (between the sheets), but I guess that due to the late hour, about 3:15, and that there were other people in the house, it didn't happen. I had hard feelings then.

Saturday was good. I don't remember any harshness. I took Rolf to the National Arboretum for the Orchid Show. Puck and Lori came along - actually they drove. It was nice, Rolf and I were very tender towards one another oohing and ahing over the flowers. We went out to dinner, just the two of us, after sharing a bottle of champagne with Puck and Lori at the house. On the drive to the restaurant, Rolf asked me why I thought B.Emmy (he lives downstairs) acted so worried when he couldn't reach us on the phone. I said that I thought he thinks we might be breaking up. That seemed to give him pause. I asked him pointedly if he was sure he wanted to stay with me, and I made reference to my anger at him caused by his abusive behavior, and he said "Of course."

None-the-less, dinner was tinged with remorse. It was lovely. And it was lovely to be there with him. It was a tender evening with him and his beautiful smile. It wasn't terribly late when we got home and we got into our pajamas and watched MAD TV and Saturday Night Live. I must have fallen nearly asleep there, because the only action that happened between the sheets upstairs was me falling quickly into dreamland. Oh, no. I think I remember that he was looking for his fingernail clippers as I was flipping through a magazine. When he couldn't find them, I apologized and said I thought I had put them away. To which he said "Why don't you get your own fucking pair." And I told him to "Go to Hell." Oh yeah, that's why there was no sex.

Sunday morning I had to go to the early service at Church. (I'm going to the United Church of Chirst now, by the way, where attendance is about 20% gay.) After church, I brought a light brunch back for everybody. There are five of us there this weekend as SMJ is away. d'Ohgy was being a nuisance with her whining. I was going to try to get her to play outside, when Rolf started bitching at me to take her for a walk. With "you stupid idiot" inferred, he said "You know she's got the mind of a two year old, and she thinks you're going to take her for a walk so you're just being cruel. . . " blah blah blah blah blah. With a "fine and fuck you," d'Ohgy and I got out of the house for a while.

Sometime later, in the early afternoon, after walking the dog, I had run some errands; he had returned from the gym. With a lecherous gleam in his eye, he was kissing me and we were laughing. He said that he thinks he hasn't been "in the mood" because he hasn't been working out. "Whatever" I say. "Maybe later . . ." and he has suggestions about how we could have a hot time . . . to which I said "Whatever it takes." Why the fuck did we let that moment get away? (It is very odd that he hasn't been interested. Usually I am the apathetic one.)

I don't know what exactly happened next, but at about 2 I went shopping with the girls. They had been over to sign the lease for the apartment they found, and now they were eager to buy a bed so they could get started on their new life in DC. We get home at about 4:30. Rolf and his friend Nick, along with B.Emmy, are watching the Redskins game. It was fun to be there, mostly, with these other folk, because while I just sit there afraid and appalled, they all make fun of Rolf when he is acting so absurd. How so. . well, it's as if he's got a radio show, some kind of liberal Rush Limbaugh, or Gay SportsTalk host - high energy bashing of anything and anyone that doesn't agree with his point. The more they made fun of him, the more of a freak he became. His eyes were bugged out, I even imagine that his hair was standing up like Einstein's. All this is in hindsight, because at the time it was all in good fun.

At a break when Lori has gone up to make dinner, and Nick has gone out to smoke, while I was sitting on the couch next to Puck; I told Rolf that I had been meaning to ask him if there were any pots that I could sell at the yard sale. (I'm having a yard sale this weekend. I'm trying to get rid of a lot of stuff, and my goal is like to get rid of a third of everything.) Well, he absolutely flipped his lid. With Puck and B.Emmy staring back at forth at us, he shouted at me, and shouted explanations to them as to how it was that I got rid of all the extra pots before we moved from the old house such that when we moved we had to find plastic pots to put plants into that we were moving from that house to this house and just where did I think I was going to find pots anyway it's not like there are just hundreds out there littering the lawn but yeah whatever just go ahead and sell whatever the fuck you want to.

My mind went to another time. Another time where I was just too stunned to speak. Although I've reacted the same many many times to situations such as this, dumbfounded (as if I suffered from Post Traumatic Stress Syndrome and who's to say I don't you jerk,) I felt like I was reliving a horrid moment that he wasn't even at. I may have been in high school, a senior. B.Emmy had a friend, Michael Greer, who was performing upstairs at Mr. Henry's. It was last minute and rush-rush as we zoomed from Woodbridge to Capitol Hill. The place was packed when we got there, and there were not two seats together. I was taken to a seat at a table, that was shared mostly by one large party. They had been there for dinner, and one of them was very very drunk. As soon as I sat down, and said "Hello" he started shouting at me, spewing such invectives that it still hurts my heart to remember them. A handsome blond, with straight hair and black eyes, college age - but still a generation older than I was; saliva splattered from his mouth as he pointed at me saying : "You are nothing but pure evil, the devil incarnate. . ."

How I wish I had said "You're right!" And thrown a flaming cocktail in his face. But I did nothing. A gentleman in their party sat on my left. He said something to my accuser that quieted him, and he offered some comfort and apology to me. My revenge, simply, was that I stayed and I had a great time.

The words were different, but the malice was the same. As Rolf yelled at me and his audience of Puck and B.Emmy, it felt like he was saying I was pure evil because I wanted to sell some of his extra pots. I said nothing. Puck stood for me this time. She said "Hey, he's not on the football team you're fighting against." He was deflated when the other's came back. I stayed for the rest of the game. Then while checking on line to see what time "Desperate Housewives" came on, Rolf came to me and tenderly and quietly said he was sorry for the whole pot thing.

Just as quietly and tenderly, I said: "Get away from me."

Wednesday, October 05, 2005

Not ready

Fun week!

Mixed with celebrating the Alliance of Community Theatre Awards, multiple viewings of Urinetown, Puck and Lori arriving, and more; it couldn’t have been much more fun. (Unless, I didn't have a day job, was in a show, got high, had sex, or had sex while high. . except for stuff like that of course.)

There was an odd moment last Thursday at choir practice. Odd but fun. Everyone knew I was up for something, but not clear exactly what. So, I get there and everyone wants the dirt; “Did you win?” “What Did You Win?” “What Show?” "Hmm. Never heard of it. . ." and so on.

The organist for the church is a youngish straight guy, let's call him "Geek", who's never said a word to me. He appears to be “afraid of the gays,” you know? Anyway, the director (who, I now realize is lesbian, not transexual) asks me how the awards went – and everybody in the room just stopped in mid-motion and mid-sentence – and waited. (Just like that Morgan Stanley commercial - “When Morgan Stanley talks; people listen.”)

I said “It couldn’t have been much better; we had almost a clean sweep!” And they all give out a shout! I hardly know these people, I've only been in the choir for a short time. But it was really nice. The organist went a bit further than the rest, by jumping up and cheering like his team just scored a field goal. He looked at me with a look of love and happiness, which was really short lived as I was staring back at him with a look that might well have read: “That’s a little much, weirdo.” Oops. But, you see, I think it was the only time he’s ever looked at me, so it was really odd. (I should say, the first and last time he ever looked at me, probably.)

Friday, I was really appreciating my blog. Compared to each of the other blogs I read, mine is pretty sucky, but, hey, it’s mine. I’ve been really bashing my husband for the last few months, for good reason I think, but it ain’t working. No use in beating a dead horse. My own blog kinda turned me on to my own man again. I’m gonna try and be nice.

AT A HAPPY-Birthday-Happy-Hour Friday evening, I ran into a woman, named Elena, who went to high school with me. Now, we’ve seen each other at a lot of parties over the years – but we’ve hardly ever spoken. Why? We didn’t recognize each other! Not only because it's been more than 25 years (ouch) as she is older, but also because we’ve both changed our names! (She got married, and me? Well, hell, my name used to be (something like) Vig Schitzpeas. Wouldn’t you change it? There's a hint as to why I'm so screwed up!)

I couldn’t stay long, but we had a couple of drinks during which she asked if I had a partner. “Yes, Rolf and I have been together for 24 years,” I said. Perplexed, she asked; "Have I met him before?" That was the most embarrassing. See, I’d been introduced to her time and time again as Elena Whoever – but I had to tell her that she’d probably never met Rolf BECAUSE, not only did I not realize that we were in choir and shows together, but also I COULD NEVER REMEMBER HER NAME! Oh, man. I turned beet red. Luckily – I had to leave to see Urinetown, so it was over quick.

ROLF MET ME at Signature Theatre after the happy hour. I remember walking toward the theater and seeing him standing there, looking so wonderful. And he was looking around for me, and when he saw me, he flashed that smile that just melts my hard heart. Signature has a couple of gay pride nights for subscibers with an after show party, and this was one of them. So we were comfortable and flirtatious with each other. It was sweet. I wish we got along like that all the time. If he could just keep me from hardening my heart then we could be like that. Plus I'd live longer and have more sex. . .but no mattter.

URINETOWN was exceptional: one of the best I’ve ever seen anywhere! At the party afterward with Tomas and Sonny, having wine, and talking to those we knew from the cast like Donna Miglaccio and Steve Cupo, and others; I was bubbling over with effusive praise for everything about the show. I was telling Rafi, the volunteer coordinator, that I wish I had been an understudy in this show - not because I wanted to be in it, but because I want to direct it! If I had been an understudy, I could have watched rehearsals and seen how they came up with such exceptional characterizations, fine musicianship, and inventive set design. (I really hope you see it. It closes on 10/16. Don't be detered because it is sold out. Take the minor risk of getting there an hour early and get in the cancelation line. I'll see you there.)

Anyway, back to Rafi who was drinking with Rolf, Sonny, Tomas, and me. I said that I was going to see the show many more times so I could study every aspect of the production. I got really excited thinking about it, before I realized that it would really cost a lot of money. I mused that I needed to find a way to get in for free, and Rafi said I could always volunteer! Furthermore, he needed two more volunteers for the matinee Saturday (the following) afternoon.

So I signed right up! Then I stepped outside and called my sister, Joy, and got her to volunteer too! I was just bursting with delight. I mean, wow, I was so proud of myself (it doesn't take a lot, does it?) Just that I made the decision to go, and got it to happen, not to mention truly seeing a brilliant show two days in a row; just made me so giddy that I couldn't contain it.

IT WAS SO nice to hang out with Joy. She had invited us to dinner last week, on Saturday, and I was feeling pretty bad that we didn't go. So this was good in two ways: free tickets to a fabulous show more than made up for blowing her off, and we got to hang out with each other while doing something fun!

We managed the concessions, which was totally laid back before the show. Since this matinee was part of the show's extension, most ticket holders had general admission tickets, rather than reserved seats which are only for subscribers, so they all stood in line and didn't ask for any refreshments which left Joy and I the chance to visit. Also, I saw Uncle Ernie and one of the soldiers from Tommy, plus the very cute Serge Seiden from Studio Theatre among many friends and aquaintenances. And it was fun for me that Joy was there as I was in my element, you know?

Our seats for the show were absolute center stage in the front row. I was just as giddy at the beginning of the show as I had been the night before at the after party. I was delighted to have gotten Joy there. It means so much to me when people trust me, and as a result they have a really great time. And as I've said: Urinetown is the most incredible show I have ever seen. (It goes right to the top echelon of other "most incredible shows I've ever seen" along with Tommy, Les Miz, Dreamgirls, A Chorus Line, SideShow, etc.)

We had such a good time. Managing the concessions at intermission was hysterical maddness. Of course, no one knew that we were volunteers, and that we've been thrown in to figure it out. So, we've got this line of a couple of hundred people asking for wine, beer, snacks, etc. And we're trying to find it all, figure out how much each item costs, then do math and handle money on top of it. My sister and I were just having a great time working the crowd and being a team. Plus all the people who were like "Oh Hi Vig! How have you been?" And I'm like: "Cool dude, what can I get you?"



Sitting on the front row of the theater, by the way, meant that all the paper that drops or gets thrown at the audience wound up in our laps and down our shirts. It was a total hoot! (When I got home and was naked in preparation for a nap, I still had pieces of green tissue paper stuck to me, and it was all over the floor.)

THAT NIGHT, SATURDAY, Mrs. Walker (not her real name of course. She was my wife in Tommy. I am hereby shortening her name to M.Walker,) threw a dinner party in my honor. To celebrate my winning all the awards, and also to introduce me to her closest friends; she had Rolf and I over for a beautiful, and most elegant evening. As I'm writing this, it's been almost a week, but I can still close my eyes and remember the candle lights on the garden deck, and a fire in the chimnea, as we had martinis, wine, cheese, and olives. We ate inside. She used her fine china and even had gold chargers that plates were placed on. Dinner was themed to encourage Rolf and I to go to Italy next year for our 25th anniversary. Butternut Squash Soup; Gorgonzola, Pear, and Rasberry Salad; Spinach Gnocci with Pancetta Butter Sauce, Roast Veal, and a Ameretto Flan. I'm not kidding you. She made all that in my honor. Wow!

And I was a good guest too! Since I had checked out my blog on Friday, some of my stories were in better order in my head than they ever had been. So, I beleive I did a very good job at entertaining her husband and other guests. By the way, the other guests were her two very best friends. It was as if we were being introduced to her inner circle. I really hope they accept us in, although I'm not worthy, I think Rolf is, and I'm kinda cool. . on paper, if you know what I mean. One friend was a cinematographer, and the other a professional jewelry maker. When they ask me what I do for a living, I say "Not Much." Yuck. (Even if it makes my therapist laugh; I'm still hoping to be a late bloomer.)

JUST A FEW HOURS later, I was in the choir loft. You know, I gave a darn good thank you speach at the awards the week before. But as I sure did pray alot through the whole production of Ruthless, (I prayed "Oh pleeeeaaaasssseeee God! Help me; I'm losing my mind!") I had really meant to "Give God the Glory" as I was taught as a good little Gay Southern Baptist Boy. (There's another hint.) Instead, I found myself saying prayers in the choir loft and crying.

I cried through the hymns, and would you believe it, they even had communion that day. Not the Southern Baptist kind where they bring you thimble-fulls of grape juice in your pew. But the type of communion where you have to walk up the isle, and tear off a piece of bread, dip it in the wine and return to your seat. I cried through all that too. I was just happy and very grateful.

THEN PUCK AND Lori arrived. That's the best of all. They've sold their house in Phoenix, and they're staying with me!!! I had to pick them up at Union Station. The Army 10-miler (a race) was going on downtown, and the 14th Street Bridge was closed to accomodate the runners. Plus, adding to the maddness, there was a suspicious package (read: possible bomb) found under that bridge, so they changed the race map mid race - sending all the traffic and the runners into pandemonium.

Well, it was just another beautiful day. I was in B.Emmy's Hummer, lost in the city because I couldn't use my usual route. At one time I found I was sitting next to the Smithsonian's American Indian Museum, and I just thought "Wow!" It's gorgeous, and unlike any architecture I've ever seen. I've really got to get in there!

Once I figured out where Union Station was, I found them waiting for me. We immediately took Lori to bunch at Mr. Henry's Capitol Hill, which was a perfect. . . aw hell the whole day was a perfect introduction to living in DC.

The best, the very best was after our nap, we went to the Kennedy Center (that's the John F. Kennedy Center for the Performing Arts for you out-of-towner's) to see the Chinese Accrobats that were performing as part of the Festival of China. Rolf was at the Redskins game, and B. Emmy was working at the Kennedy Center itself. As a matter of fact, B. Emmy had called me just as I was getting ready to sit down for church in the morning - got to love the cell phones - and said that he had seen the run through of the show, and that it was magnificient. It was a free show, and although I had heard that tickets were required, and they were all gone, I was still going. But he said that tickets were actually still available, and that I MUST bring the girls.

So, as I'm pulling into the parking garage, there's a sign on the attendant's booth that says "Chineese Accrobat Show is Sold Out". Who cares. Because I'm thinking "It's a free show. People are not going to show up." So we pay the $15 dollars (!) to park, and go on up to find the sign up for cancelations. What we found instead, and this still pisses me off, were signs that said "There will be no stand-by line for the Chinese Accrobat Show." Why? What the hell? There's always a cancelation line. Besides, for a free show, people are not going to value the tickets enough to actually show up, so the cast member's were going to be ill served with a house that couldn't possibly be more that 80% full.

Pissed, I called B.Emmy. He was back stage assisting with all the multiple Festival of China events. He was appaled. First he tried to get us some tictets himself. But when that didn't work, he told us to meet him outside the Eisenhower Theater stage door. So, Puck, Lori, and I search for this door which turned out to be outside a stone's throw from the Watergate Hotel. Now, mind you, it's all beautiful. It was a beautiful day, the Kennedy Center overlooks the Potomac River, the Watergate, Georgetown, and there were planes heading toward National Airport. (Please don't call it Reagan Airport, we won't know what you're talking about, or if we do, we'll hate you.)

So, again, we get over to the door and B.Emmy's sitting there with several of the accrobats (yum), and on the terrace below is a Chinese Festival. Food Vendors, music, jugglers, best of all there was a bar. So, now, Lori has moved to DC, just that very day, in hopes of landing a job in the White House, or the courts or something, right? Well, B.Emmy says: "Well, I don't know what that is all about with the tickets. So, I'm just going to take you in the back door."

It's too perfect. Well, for Puck and me. We've snuck into so many movies together - though most of them were when we were in High School. She's lived in Boston and Phoenix for the last 15 years, but there was one time when she was visiting her Mom in Woodbridge when we say 3 and a little more movies in one day. The "little more" was a bit of the beginning of Shreck, I think. But once we snuck in, I started laughing so hard before we got a seat, that we had to sneak back out. So, I was just jumping up and down at the chance to sneak into the Kennedy Center!

Lori? Not so much. "I'm a god-damned officer of the court. There's no way I can get caught sneaking into the Kennedy Center! I'll never get a job!" We were lucky Rolf wasn't there, because without any support, we dragged her along with us. She was in a panic.

So, B.Emmy has his Kennedy Center ID on, and at half-hour before the show he says: "Ok, here we go" and Lori starts sweating. We walk in the stage door, (I swear) and a security guard stops us, or more accurately we stop for the security guard.

To B.Emmy, "Are these folks signed in?"

And as if it made perfect sense, B.Emmy said "Oh, no. I'm just taking them to the front of the house."

"Ok," the security guard seemed to think. And he walked over to the glass security booth, where a female guard is with the sign-in sheets. He leans in to her and says (I kid you not)

"This fellow works here and he's just taking these folks to the front of the house. DO YOU WANT TO JUST BYPASS THAT WHOLE SECURITY THING?"

"Yeah, whatever. . . " and she waved us on.

Can you believe it? In Washington, DC? "Do you want to just by-pass that whole security thing?" Oh Shit.

Lori was about to have a stroke. I was appaled, but once we stepped into the Eisenhower Theater right in front of the first row, and next to the stage; I just laughed and laughed. No one bothered us. And the show was A.M.A.Z.I.N.G.!

ROLF AND I had a nice time over those days, and right up to and including Wednesday night. We even hung together well through a Bridge Night with our friend and her boyfriend who has cerebral palsy. It was all sweet. You know how I love him. But I can harden my heart to him so fast, it could just cause me to die on the spot. Sometimes I wish it would. Tomorrow is our 24th Anniversary, and we haven't spoken a kind word since before bed on Wednesday.

Our very first dance was to Luther Vandross singing "Never to Much." Today they played him singing ""I'd rather have bad times with you than good times with someone else. I'd rather have the one who holds my heart."

It's true.

Thanks for dropping by! I love comments! Even if it's just to point out the overuse and misuse of semi-colons, feel free.

Vig

PS Running spell check and trying to fix punctuation problems seem to be impossible on this post. Sorry.