Boogie-dy, Boogie-dy

Rolf is away. I shoulda been bed awhile ago. But, I had rehearsal, and I've got the maid crew coming tomorrow, so I had to clean the house tonight. Well, a little bit.

My blog is restricted viewing. So, Susan, and the other three, six, or nine of you; I'm sorry I didn't finish my not so very interesting story, but I'll get to it this weekend.
with
I am so excited; I'm in a new show. I hope it pans out as well or better than it (the word - what's the WORD).

The show is Children. And there are four people in it. There's a Mama, Sibilings, and a Daughter in law. I'm the son. Two or three rehearsals in, and I'm very excited. I wish it wasn't at the lowest of the low community "theaters", but if it was somewhere else, they'd never have called me and said "Hey, we're doing a show. Ya wanna?"

I said yes. Hadn't even read the show. It's quick, just 6 - 8 weeks, only 6 performances. So I said yes. And I am having a ball. I feel like I'm getting free conservatory training - one on one.

I should be in bed. d'Ohgy thinks so too, and she's just gone. I'm not happy with her. She peed on the rug yesterday. On the silk rug. I have no idea what to do.


Oh, about the show. I'm supposed to be late 20's to early 30's. (I'm 44.) And I'm supposed to be a tennis pro . . . HA. Yes, I lost 10 lbs. but I'm still way fat.


The good thing? Since the "theater" is in the fellowship hall of the Methodist Church: my nude scene has been cut.

Hooray!

Oh yes, they call him the streak
He likes to turn the other cheek
He's always making the news
Wearin' just his tennis shoes
Guess you could call him unique..

Poor Old Michael Finnegan, Begin Again

Eleven twenty eight pm. St. Patrick's Day. Rolf is downstairs, maybe playing football on PlayStation. I'm in the sun room with d'Ohgy, listening to the stereo. The dishwasher is running, and although it's a bit dark; there is a comfortable disarray throughout the room. Some blarney stone music is playing on Mary Cliff's Tradition Show.

We went to the movies tonight and saw "Casino Royal." The last scenes take place in Venice. We held hands as James Bond passed through St. Marks Square, and past the shop where we bought our Murano glass cuff-links, and well . . . I never imagined that I'd start seeing movies and pictures that would transport us back in time to the most wonderful anniversary. Who could imagine, while watching James Bond chase a bad guy through the squares of Venice, that you'd get choked up at the memory of a twenty-fifth anniversary celebration in Venice?

Boys I'd like to know are having a wonderful time at the St. Patricks Day BlowOff at the 9:30 club. I think I'd like to go to that one day. But for now, lounging with my feet on the ottomon, a memory of olive oil on the roof of my mouth, a soft throw wrapped like a shawl around my shoulders, a vodka and soda with rapidly thawing ice next to a mess of dried flowers on the side table . . . well, there's no where else I'd rather be.

Mom is doing ok. Very ok. Pop, not so much - but that's just so different . . . well, what happened is

__________

Joy (nom-de-internet for my sister) called last week

"Vig! Mama has scheduled an MRI for Friday, so she won't be able to help with the rehearsal dinner!" (Russ and Officer Cupcake's wedding was last Saturday.) "I can't do this alone. Please, can you come and help?"

Of course, I felt lousy that she had to ask, practically beg, because I'd rather be alone looking at the view of the lake with a fifth of vodka than be sociable. . . but what the heck. Besides, I had taken a few days off from daily drunkenness.

"Daddy, and Uncle Casey and Aunt Frankie will be there at 6, but . . ." I cut her off

"Do they know I'll be there?"

"Oh, it will be fine," she says.

"It's ok with me. I love them. He's my favorite Uncle. Even if he won't be in the same room with me. "

___________

I got to the club house at noon on Friday. My sister had already arranged the tables to her liking, a wonderful job of making the tables look elegant with Party City table cloths and silk flowers that she borrowed from all the supervisor's from the courthouse. .

One of the judges had given each supervisor an arrangement of silk magnolia leaves in a gold vase. Her husband - i mean the ex-husband - oh well - because of the divorce, and his general losserness, he hadn't helped out with the rehearsal dinner - he eventually sent her a check for two hundred dollars. I was embarrassed, because I'm an elitist snob, even though Daddy only has a 7th grade education. None-the-less, I thought the party should be a treat for out of town guests, a thank you to the brides family for all the effort and money that they'd been bearing. And as such, it should be fabulous. And, I was embarrassed because I felt like I should' just pay for it. But, that didn't seem right either. I had to trust my sister, but it was hard. And who would I be kidding anyway. I can't afford it.

Anyway, there were enough flowers to put two on each banquet table. The club house is for the neighborhood; it doubles as the pool house too. The top floor has a kitchen and a club room with a fire place. Although there's not much else, it was very nice once Joy had it all set up.

Dinner menu was a spiral sliced ham, potato salad, green beans, and macaroni and cheese. I was dying.

We got all the food loaded in; I supplemented with a huge green salad. Joy and Shannon went to the rehearsal, leaving me to heat the food and lay it out. There were two ladies who had offices in the club house, and they asked me if I wanted them to lock the house when they left. I said yes, because I was in the back in the kitchen. I remember that I said to lock it. Oh . .

________

"Hello?? Hello???" a female voice asks. I stop sauteing the onions and run the maze to the front door shouting "yoo-hoo - who's is it I'll be right there" rounding the corner and running right up to my Uncle Casey.

"Why Hello! How are you doing?" he asks offering his huge hand and smiling like Ronald Reagan. I don't know that I said anything. I know I did; say something, that is. But, maybe I didn't.

That huge smile, he looks as much like my grandmother who's been gone for 30 years now, as he does look like me. We looked each other over, cataloging changes in hair, weight, height. . . and then I ran away.

oops.

I hope I said that I was going to burn the beans if I didn't hurry. But, I might not have said anything. I was kinda freaked out. I wanted to tell him that I love him. I wanted him to give me a hug. And I wanted a picture of the two of us . . . but I was so shocked at running into him like that. And over the last twenty years he has so rudely avoided me that is just shocking, so I just didn't know what to do. And it was my best chance. And I blew it.

________

"Don't panic sweetie, I'm coming in the door now"

"That's nice Rolf. See ya. "

"Wait wait, what's going on?"

"Oh, I'm just kneeling here on the floor, wrapping Russ and O.C.C.'s wedding present"

"Who's there with you"

"Well, just Daddy, Ronnie (Joy's brand new husband,) Aunt Frankie and Uncle Casey."

"Oh, My, God. You've got to be kidding me. . . "

"Mmm. having a wonderful time. . . wish you were here. . . "

(he cackles on the phone as I hang up and go back to the wrapping job. . . )

________

It never got better. Rolf got there, and we leaned against the fire place, Uncle Casey kept his back toward me at all times intensly interested in anything that Joy's husband might say. Daddy looks like a space cadet - he probably didn't have his hearing aides in. I don't know. Maybe he was just worried about Mama. Aunt Frankie kept saying, over and over again, that if the wedding party didn't arrive soon, that Mama might get there in time for dinner after all.

Mama has diabetes. She'd been on cusp of having it before the cancer, but the cancer drugs have caused her to be in the danger zone. She got a reprieve from chemo therapy, thank God, but a new medicine she just went on caused her sugar level to shoot up to an alarming coma-zone number. So, frightened by that, she had to have an MRI on her spine and liver before her doctor would consider changing the meds.

It was a very nice dinner. Buffet style, I manned the food table, and visited with Rolf and my dad and my sister, my niece, Shannon, and her husband Confederate Flag Buttcrack, who I just adore. oy.

We sat Uncle Casey and Aunt Frankie accross the room with strangers. Fuck-em. But I still tried . . . when I made a fresh pot of coffee, I offered them coffee personally. When Mama got there, about two hours later, she wanted decaf, so I made decaf and went over and offered Uncle Casey and Aunt Frankie decaf. . . Uncle Casey's big smile, did little to hide his disgust because he was being so dismissive you know? ("OH! No thank you," he says brightly as if to the kindest stranger, before looking away.) He and Daddy left early anyway. Old men need to be in bed by eight it seems.

Mama had a broken blood vein in her hand from the MRI. She kept ice on it, because she had a lump the size of a ping pong ball on the top of her hand. I don't remember what it was she was telling me, but I remember being surrounded by a party of happy people, and she was talking just to me near the buffet table, holding ice on her hand, and she was smiling and happy . . . but I could tell that she had been crying. I didn't know why.


to be continued

Yummy Yummy Yummy I Got Love in My Tummy

Some of ya'll would wish you had my job. I swear. But I hate it. Oy, what a waste. I did nothing. Mostly. And I feel so guilty. Or, I did, but then I had a bottle of wine.

Thank God For Friday!

You know, I never told about the week. My uncle Casey, who looks like a cross between my beloved grandmother Deboeuf, and Ronald Reagan, and is my favorite Uncle, even though he won't be in the same room with me. Yeah, well he came to Russ's wedding.

There's good news about Mama. Not so good about Daddy - but that is kinda old news, 'cept I never told you. It's ok. And I didn't drink for eight days. I got bored at Russ's wedding, and decided to heck with it. So I had a few, and got cut off by Rolf when I suggested how much fun it would be to put an ice cube down my ex-brother-in-law's new wife's dress.

Anyhoo . . .

It was a wonderful wedding. I am so happy. We all are. I've got a couple or three stories I hope I'll get off my depressed lazy assed butt and write down.

But I gotta tell you that we had the most wonderful dinner just now. And before I forget, here is the menu

Shallots Rings - dusted in cornflour and fried in olive oil - then salted.

then I drained the olive oil through a coffee filter and set the shallot scented olive oil aside.

I steamed fresh asparagus, and a couple stalks of celery.

then I sliced them on the bias, and dressed them with a pesto vinegerete that I had made . I was marinating a roasted red pepper in there too. so I sliced that and mixed it together.

Then I heated the reserved olive oil, and coated nice orange roughey fillets in corn flour salt and Italian seasoning.

Once the fish was sauteed , I plated it, sided with the asparagus roasted pepper w/ pesto vinetgerette, and garnished with the fried shallots.

yeah. I'm good.

Dessert of Chianti and Giardelli chocolate only highlighted the fried shallot flavor - - - and that's not a bad thing.

Not at all.

Please, sir. May I Have Some More?

sigh . . . it's so pretty here. I really need design help, yes, and new windows. . . but, oh just siting here looking out on our little mud puddle is so wonderful. wow.

Well, tonight, I'm going to watch last night's American Idol. And I've got some cooking to do.

First on the list is the cocktail of the evening. You name it:

Vodka
Cointreau
Splash of cranberry
and Stewarts Key Lime soda.

in what ever proportions you desire . . . well, on second thought stick to one part Vodka, 1/2 part Cointreau, cranberry is just for color. Add ice and fill with key lime soda. I'm going to try it with Italian Lime soda too. . . oh who am I kidding, I make it all the time.

Also on the menu, to get back on the low point value wonderful food because of the skinny bitches at the beach plan . . .

Brussels Sprouts with cannelloni beans

Broccoli in marinara with chunks of Parmesan and pine nuts

Aubergines, (don't you think we should all call them that?) sauteed with garlic and olive oil - then zipped through the food processor and served with somethin crunchy.

But first, I gotta clean the god damned kitchen.

Magic Moments

Ick - I've got to get to work. Yuck. On the other hand - thank god a deadline has shown up - I am so totally addicted to the internet that I get nothing done. Anyhow, before I get started . . .

I have made it six days without a drink. Yesterday was tough. I'm ignoring a fight about my work hours as best I can. That's a post traumatic stress trigger for me. I'm being harassed about it right now, and yesterday it came up again just as I was preparing to leave for the day. My posted work hours are 7-4, but I got way off of that and started working more like 9 - until no one was looking. I'm never on time. All I can hope is to be here before anyone else.

Still - I didn't drink. I had to go buy a suit to wear to Russ's wedding on Saturday. And I was hungry so I did abandon my diet and ate just the grossest collection of food from a half-price buffet, and some chocolate truffles. When I got home, although desperate for Merlot, I had raspberry tea. And a sandwich with mayonnaise and pine nuts and chicken and micro greens in a whole wheat pita.

Actually, that was pretty good.

_________

I WORE MY TUX to the WATCH Awards tech run. I remembered that last year it was a tough costume change to get out of the rehearsal clothes and into my new tuxedo before the Birchmere's doors opened. And also, as I was in charge of the tech run, and not being nominated for an award, nor performing; I figured that I should dress up for the casts. At least it helped them identify who was "in charge."

I was the entertainment coordinator for five groups singing songs from the Best Production of a Musical nominees. The first up on stage was Seussical. And they had a huge cast. There must have been 50 people in it, all very young - elementary school through college. They were so cute.

Timing was tight, so I got them started right at 3:15 even though their pianist was late. And when she got there, (the opening of the stage door slashed brilliant light through the dark theater,) she dodged across the stage as they danced and sang (acappella) "Oh the Thinks You Can Think" to find that she couldn't get to the piano from up on the stage.

I mirrored her progress across the stage and called her to the steps, which she could not see, as I gave her my hand and she blindly and shakily descended the steps, taking my arm as I took her to the piano. (Which was on the stage, but it was on a side wing of the stage, surrounded by sound and lighting equipment.) She couldn't even see the steps leading up to the piano, even though they were white and right in front of her. I had to describe them . . . "not very wide, right here . . here take my hand. " And I led her up those steps and went back to watch her group continue to sing as she throws her bag and coat down, and swings her music score onto the piano and sits in one fluid movement, quickly scanning measures, notes, and pages as the cast comes to a key change.

She hits the chord, an instant after fear of the impending key change glazes over the young cast. The fullness of the music swells from the rock-concert sized speakers, and the huge cast continues their rehearsal with bright-eyed joy.

Ah.

Pure Magic.

Believe.

Used Porn for Sale

Friday.

I asked Rolf to come home from work early. Early for him is anytime before 6. He knows, and agrees, that I am fed up with his work schedule of 11 – 7, which often means that he doesn’t get home until 7:40. At other times he works from home because he is too embarrassed to show up at his office at lunch time.

Of course, one of the reasons I don’t like him to be home when I get home is that he can see how early I start drinking; and me, I think it’s a great day when my first drink is at 4:45. Another reason I don’t like him keeping that schedule is because just I miss him. I need to go to bed at 10 to make it to work by 7. If he’s not going in until 11, then he stays up until 1, and it begins to feel that we might just as well be roommates.

________

On Friday I was thinking of the WATCH Awards, our local community theater equivalent of the Oscars. They were to happen on Sunday. I was coordinating the entertainment, planning the technical rehearsal, as well as presenting an award.

And I was also reflecting on my failed intention to not drink on Thursday night.

“Ah, I might as well just have a small one” as I watched the sun set on Lake Accotink . . .

“Or two” as I lit candles and oil lamps as dusk began to turn to night

“And instead of opening a bottle of wine, I’ll just stop after this one . . .” as I poured my third.

That’s how the thought process went.

At 9:30, after four or five super strong vodka tonics, I looked at the clock wondering if I had time for another before Rolf got home from basketball. And I wondered if it was ok to have another drink a half hour before I planned on going to bed.

. . . and I cheer chanted

“DRINK! DRINK! DRINK!” while going to the bar to make another vodka tonic.

___________

I was disgusted. And, as usual, I spent much of my work day serfing (if I can use that as a verb) the web. I saw this: (12 minute video of Craig Ferguson’s monologue on why he’s not talking about Brittney Spears of all things.)

And then, while searching for a local gay A.A. meeting, I found this: A.A. – The Big Book – On Line.

__________

Wayellllll . . . I watched it, and I read the book . . . and I really think I’ve got to quit drinking. I don’t want to admit that it’s forever. I don’t even know how to tell my glamorous hot bod hard drinking buddy and former co-star, Mrs. Walker, that we’ll come to dinner on the 30^th, but I won’t be drinking. And I waffle and think,

"well, I can’t cut it out forever. I’ll just have to drink that night, and detox again the next day. . ."
As if I could.

_________

Rolf did get home early. I didn’t discuss any of this with him. I just told him I wasn’t drinking for the weekend, and probably through my nephew’s wedding (this Saturday.)

And what a great time we had. We went downtown to the discount porn shop that Jimbo and DurbanBud have been talking about. Even though we didn’t know where it was, we just went on a joyride until we found it. (It’s a leetle crazy in there, and way odd to have someone giving you a hard sell on used porn!) And then we took a walk down 17^th street, and actually went into JR’s (it’s one of the gay bars on the strip.) But that was just because we had to pee, plus, we haven’t been in a bar since they’d banned smoking. So, we found out that it is wonderful to be in a bar with no smoking, we found the loo, and we left.

I don’t know what to do in a bar if I’m not there to get snockered.

I’m on a diet. (12 lbs lost.) The cucumber slices and hummus I’d had for dinner had left plenty of room for whole other dinner at Hanks Oyster Bar!

It was very romantic. We were laughin’ and talkin’, makin’ eyes at one another. Oh, I had the most delicious Bouillabaisse (is that really how you spell it? Goodness gracious that’s too many letters. Anyhow, that’s seafood stew for anyone not equipped with a dictionary.) It had mussels – which I’ll tell you that I don’t much like, and mean it – even though I ate every last one. And huge shrimp, perfect scallops, and whitefish in a fennel broth. It was heavenly good! And since I didn’t have my usual two martinis and half-carafe of wine, it was less than $50 for two!
_________

Saturday – eh – fixed a couple of toilets / replaced light bulbs / got new tuxedo pants because I haven’t lost enough weight / oh! And we walked around the whole lake! That took a couple of hours. We really have been getting along well. He’s been making me very happy. We didn’t spend the evening together though; I had to go see You’re a Good Man, Charlie Brown that I’d done the props for.

And I did it sober. And even though the show was not outstanding in anyway, and sometimes outright hideous; I still had a good time.

_________

Message Not Sent

Hi darlin' -

We'd love to get together. The 30th should work fine. Although there's an odd thing I have to say; since we're after the holiday season, briskly approaching the opening of beach season, and that I've only lost 12 of the 40 lbs I plan to lose by May; and also at my doctor's longstanding request - I'm not drinking right now.

I've got my nephew's wedding coming up this weekend. It's going to be difficult with his dad and new step-mother being there, plus a beloved uncle of mine who refuses to be in the same room with me or any other homosexual . . . and also since I believe I've done some damage to my reputation, shall we say, with some friends who were expected at the WATCH Awards (one of whom did indeed snub me) - I didn't' want to be drinking around them either . . .

Well what I'm trying to say is that rather than having a glass of wine to ease social anxieties, I've just been slamming them back at just about all times unless I'm at work. Last Thursday, I started drinking vodka and soda shortly after 5. And since I'd had two vodka and soda's plus a whole bottle of wine on Wednesday night - I decided not to open another bottle of wine. .. you know, to take it easy. But, by the time I had my 5th tumbler of vodka and soda, about four and a half hours later I guess, I was watching the clock to see how much more I could drink before Rolf got home from basketball - I started marching around the house holding the vodka bottle and leading a cheer "DRINK! DRINK! DRINK!"

And I don't know why. It's just fun. But I just don't stop. So, on Friday I decided to stop. At least through the WATCH Awards, and hopefully through Russ' wedding, Lent, until I lose this weight, and maybe until I've made it through the summer season with the skinny bitches in Rehoboth without shame.

. . .

Well - what should I say? I can't send this.