This is a crosspost from ...was i there?
I wish I had pictures. This was the Best Birthday on Record, sweetie!! Wow!!
So yeah, it all started with a $100 gift card from my mother. She srsly rawks. Srsly. THEN, my most amazing and much loved man surprised me! You see, I had twated at some point that I wanted one of two things for my birthday; a cabana booth at Urban Mo's with 15 people or nothing. Hahah! I was feeling bitchy and self important that day. Anyhoo. We worked all day Monday. I knew we were going to Mo's (I kinda got my way), and had my outfit all planned out. I stuck to it even tho my new fake leather jacket was calling me... All primped and ready for whatever we get to Mo's. And sit. We order appetizers, adult beverages, and read tweets and Brightkite and stuff. After a while Joelle and Mikey show up. We gab and enjoy the eats. Joelle and Richard talk about how we scored Premium Seating without having a larger party. I !
was like... okay. Then our San Diego family Sheila and her daughter show up! Yay! More booze and stuff happened. (the order of events after this point may differ from reality, thank you, vodka) Then Gooster and Gio pop up out of nowhere!! My cabana was getting full! OMG. It was awesome! also our server was our good friend Marisol! Other Mo's peeps were stopping by and giving well wished and stuff. Marisol had provided an inflatable monkey for every one to sign. Yay again! Captain, one of my good friends who actually has never, EVER attended my birthday's prior arrived. Food, fun, laughter!! Then I saw my BFF Marcus walking over! He had said he might not make it, so I wasn't expecting him. I was literally amazed at all these people to celebrate with me. I was. Then the super secret surprise guest, someone on Twitter I have been talking too lately who just seem!
s so amazing...
tle="@Ub
erglitterati">@Uberglitterati!!
There was the traditional singing, candle blowing, an odd looking cupcake that I refused to eat, and shots to decline... I stayed hydrated and enjoyed many Cosmos! I tried to talk to everyone but it was overwhelming! So many people!! I have never had a birthday like that. Ever. I had no idea how to behave!! After a bit folks started leaving. I hugged my goodbyes. I so adore everyone that was there. Making an effort to go out on a Monday in December? I love you all soooo much. Nights like that really give you a picture of who in your life is important, even if you don't see each-other much. When it got down to just us gays we headed to Brass Rail for some twirling and stuff. Fun, fun, fun!
Oi. I wish I had pictures! I have the best man and best friends ever. Srsly. I could cry. You guys rock!!
Then today I found out Richard had invited the new neighbor friends too! I love him extra for that! He made a stellar effort this year... Kudos, you! *kiss*
Frequently, I will fall madly in love with a piece of furniture that leaves even my closest friends & allies scratching their heads in confusion. Such was the case with my new desk. When I first showed it to my husband, I could tell he was skeptical, but knew better than to say so...When the glimmer is in my eye, just back away.
It was love at first glance on Craigslist for me:
So I contacted the owner to arrange a viewing. We had several conversations over the course of a few days while attempting to fit our schedules together and I learned that the desk had belonged to his mother and he had the pity-able task of sorting out her belongings. I told him that I was a furniture maker and would take really good care of it...that I wasn't sure if I would refinish it, or leave it alone, but either way it would be loved. In a small way, I think these exchanges may have been a bit therapeutic for him, as I sensed he was perhaps a bit choked up on the other line.
I should mention, in addition to being incredibly kind, he was also extremely fair with the price ($45 for desk, chair, & mirror) and generously offered to deliver it to me for free.
So yesterday, when he showed up, it was an easy no brainer. I saw it on the truck, knew it was love, handed him the money, and brought it in the house. It was a little dirty from being in storage, but a little simple green & elbow grease was all it took to clean up nicely:
While pulling out one of the drawers, my husband discovered hidden treasures had fallen into the back of it. I couldn't believe it - a beautiful desk AND hidden treasure! I had hit the jackpot. The best things we found: an antique bottle opener, stolen from a San Francisco hotel called The Raphael; a porcelain lid to a tiny box (this must have made her CRAZY trying to find it); an old silver swiss army knife? or nail cutter?; and best of all - a tiny gold skeleton key with a #2 on it.
Doesn't that just pique your sense of wonder & adventure like crazy???!!!! WHAT on earth does that key open and HOW will I find it?
Well, those questions may have to go unanswered. I plan to call the man today and offer him what I found...but I'm REALLY hoping he doesn't want them back, because I love them so much! I would like to keep them with the desk, either displayed behind my computer or in a shadow box on the wall. Each item has so much history and so many secrets to tell...If I am allowed to keep them, I know they will provide endless inspiration and possibly good luck while spending long hours feverishly writing at this desk.
She's ninety and it's hard for her to see. Glaucoma has made her world blurry and the only way she can look at her gossip magazines is with a lighted magnifying glass. The glass can't help her to read though, those days are over.
Her nails bother her and the kids joke that she shouldn't let me near them - I cut everything too short. But she does want me near them and she asks if I will trim them for her. I'm nervous about this, the last thing I want to do is injure her and I don't have my reading glasses with me. I'm at the stage where I can still read my watch and a menu without glasses, but I won't sign a contract without them and I probably shouldn't pull out splinters or go after eyelashes unless they're on. I really should start to carry them with me.
Glasses or no, she wants me to help her, and I can't say no. I pick up her cosmetics bag and find her nail trimmer and nail file. "Do I have an emery board?" she asks doubtfully. Yes, sweetie, I've got it.
I gently pick up one hand and cut the end of the nail, careful not too cut it too short. She tests the length against another finger, then her cheek. "That's perfect." Carefully, slowly, I cut and file the rest of them.
Together we examine the polish and decide her nail color is still pretty - no need to repaint. She feels all of her fingertips one by one and thanks me in a more heartfelt manner than I deserve. This chokes me up a little. Small pleasures. Small gifts. Little things that matter.
At the airport, I am overcome with the same feeling I always get when I leave her. What if this is the last time we see each other? Have I made her feel loved enough? Does she know how much she matters to us?
Cassandre starts to tear up at the airport, looking at a carved stone heart "made in Utah." She wants it to remind her of this trip. To remind her of her great-grandmother. I remind her that she'll be back next month, she'll see her again soon. She nods solemnly and asks me again to please buy her the necklace. She promises to pay me back. (Who could ask for the money?)
At home Cassandre picks up the ancient candlesticks my grandfather sent to my grandmother from England right before he was shot down and killed over Germany in WWII. I am responsible for taking care of these precious memories, but I have not washed them lately and they are tarnished and dirty. Cassandre wants to clean them and together we take them apart, piece by loving piece. We wash and dry each one, noting where the silversmith has encoded "A" "B" "C" and "5" "6" "7" so we know exactly which part goes back where. Soap and water make good progress, but not enough. We buy some polish to bring the shine back.
It makes us feel connected to do this work. Hands on labor to restore some dignity to something so precious. We don't try to make it perfect, just better.
When I was a desk jockey in San Francisco, I frequently changed my desktop image to something happy and tropical because I was, well - unhappy & cold. Now that I'm back in Hawaii, I wanted to put some images out into the internets, in case anyone out there is searching for warm, flowery, happy, tropical, Hawaii wallpaper:
I preferred to think that the tree had not been touched by human hands. Instead, I wanted to imagine a type of botanical, seasonal transition: that the green blood had crystallized into silver, gold and scarlet. And when the joy could no longer be hidden, the blossoms appeared in delicate explosions. Their thin metallic skins would shine with a clear complexion - in colors that were pure and inspirational.
It would be impossible not to pluck this Christmas fruit from the tree that dared to bloom in the late autumn, with winter peering over the Advent horizon like a mischievous child.
They would be irresistible. They would have a scent like an expectant kitchen, full of spices that had traveled through history from the misunderstood continents, the lands of Western fear, of medieval confusion. They would taste like snow falling from the festive clouds: a profusion of crystals blowing through the white air in blissful geometry.
And inside of each one would lie a seed, a tiny window looking into the heart of the fruit. The pulp would be flavored with these sweet prisms - with the alluring light that turned the orchards of this holiday crop into a starry countryside.
And now this tree was heavy with their radiance. But I decided not to pick the glittering baubles from their branches. I chose a different harvest. I left the tree and its glittering yield behind, knowing that I would be enjoying its shining feast whenever I closed my eyes.
This is a crosspost from ...was i there?
I adore this song. So appropriate for this time of year and junk...
This is a crosspost from ...was i there?
What a night! Can I just tell you first, that alcohol is a very dangerous drug? Especially when combined with glitter, hair, and heels...
I was logged into Facebook the other day and saw that Vuboq was a-coming-to-town. Like Santa. Kinda. Only this was for work and not like gift giving and reindeer. Now we've only chatted a bit here and there on the Social Networks, mostly the Twitter. But hey, I read his blog pretty regularly, and I am like the San Diego welcome wagon, so I sent him a message inviting him to our Holiday Shindig. Sadly, after much traveling that day he cancelled. But being the persistent one, I mentioned we should at least do drinks while he was in town.
Because, to be perfectly honest, most of my friends are FROM the internet. And also, I figured he'd cancel again. Just cause, you know, we hadn't chatted that often before. But the next day we had a date, time, and place all figured out. Yay! Being that it was going to be a Wednesday I naturally chose Dreamgirls over at the Urban Mo's. A guaranteed good time. As it turned out I was right!
So Vuboq (can I say his name? Not sure since he doesn't use it..) is amazing. He's fun, frisky, and adorable all at once. It was surprisingly easy to talk to him, and it was that weird "like we've known each other forever" vibe. I am so, so, soo glad we met!!! (In fact I wish he lived here... So we could hang out and laugh a lot and have Martini Time). Plus, he brought the fantastic Miss Michelle M. She's not a tweet or a blog, so like... no link. But she is FUN! Also a local gal so we hope to see her again.
It turned out that the drag show was the most perfect venue.. We had the most amazing time talking, watching the scandalous performances of the Dreamgirl's Beauties, and enjoying boozy beverages. Ice broken, we ended up on the heated patio and just talked, laughed, and harassed the "girl's". Well, not harassed so much as meet and greeted... and photographed! Yay! So here's a few photos:
As the pipe clamp blisters began to pop and heal on my hands, I knew I was in a race against myself to find my next gig in woodworking. I had just quit my job after I was put on a mandatory 72-hour work week schedule, which was neither safe nor necessary in the warehouse where I was a full time furniture maker. From my first taste of sawdust, I was hooked. I loved everything about it, especially the aches & pains associated with putting in a hard day of manual labor.
I had moved thousands of miles from my industrial Michigan factory roots, only to go to college and decide the blue collar life is what I wanted. I quit my job, only when it was obvious that it would either kill or permanently injure me...but it was still one of the hardest decisions I have ever had to make. Besides the fact that I love it, I realize now how wrapped up I was in the identity of being just one thing...In my working life, I have always had to have at least three side hustles going on and I've done everything from nude modeling, to being a maid, a well-paid executive assistant, an extra in movies, a make-up artist, to an apprentice sander in a woodshop.
When I call home to update my family, typically, whatever it is I describe is met with unconditional love & acceptance, even if there is a tinge of it not necessarily being understood. As a woodworker, I was finally able to align myself with an identity - one thing that I loved being and doing...and it was so much easier to explain that!
Predictably, when the job fell apart, I scrambled for any paying gig I could find on craigslist. As it turns out, it was a good time to be involved with film making and I even signed up for acting classes. Being involved in the process is as exciting as it seems like it would be - even the long hours of waiting, while being completely dressed to the nines for a 6:00 a.m. call time, shouldn't be exciting, but it still is.
Around this time I also found work as a fit model, working for a local design house. It's a job that pays very well but the work is inconsistent. Still, I am extremely thankful to have it, even if it is a bit weird for me to use it as an identifier at the dentist's office and have the receptionist squeal and ask me a bunch of questions about the job. That's a rock star moment, I'm not going to lie, but it's completely foreign to me to identify myself as "model" in any capacity...especially when "factory rat" was a closer signifier just weeks ago.
I'm not sure if all the discomfort in lacking a fixed occupation or identity squarely rests on my shoulders, or if I am reacting to other people's confusion when I try to explain, "Well, I'm actually a furniture maker, but I'm out of work, so I'm doing the acting and modeling thing, while looking for another woodworking gig." Who does that? I'm not sure if I even understand myself anymore.
In the long run, it's probably a good thing that I am so versatile & adaptable - I always have something relevent for any type of resume I'm creating for myself (and I have at least 3); but I long for the day when I have a short answer to the question, "So what do you do?"
This is a crosspost from ...was i there?
So I decided this year I'd do the Wreath Auction at Martini's Above Fourth as damage control. You see, last year Richard went solo, with friends, and actually bought a wreath. For a lot of money. Like a lot. The wreath, while pretty, matches NONE of our existing holiday decor. It was very expensive. OMG I HATE IT!!!
So, anyhoo. This year we went together. It was fun. There were the muscle boys in sleep bottoms, sans shirts, AKA Wreath Models. The wreaths were.. interesting. There was lots of booze. But I gotta say, after hearing about last year, I was disappointed. First and for-most, the wreath models were being abused by this snatch-y queen in an untucked dress shirt and tie. Gross. She was also abusive to the guests. Secondly the wreaths, while impressive, were nothing like the one Richard bought last year that I love to hate. In fact there was only one that compared, and the price immediately soared out of reach, yet 90 percent of them went for chump change!
I was amazed tho, as to the holiday spirit we encountered. There was a man sitting close-by. He was bidding on everything. He had already won a lot of wreaths. He gave our friend 100 dollars to put towards her wreaths if she won any. She didn't, but the thought behind it meant a lot. Richard bought him a drink or two.
Later we were famished and ditched the auction and went to Urban Mo's for real food. It was too much fun and after too many drinks, a 7 ft. tall drag queen, and meeting some gay neighbors from a block away, we called it a night. Good night moon!
Well, what can you say? That is as tasty, and as good a feed as any creature could dream of.
