Pardon Me

ok, so the albatross that is Merlin is off my neck. he's on his own and now i'm training with somebody.
it would be great, but i'm still getting all the calls and stuff for my old desk.

i'm gonna be really busy till i get acquainted with this new job, so posting will be intermittent.

bear with me.

Snow Job

I’m not going to jabber about the Oscars. They were dull and un-eventful, despite Ellen’s best efforts. The most exciting thing was the prospect of Jennifer Hudson’s ta-tas popping out during the Dreamgirls Medley. I’m kicking myself for staying up past midnight and then waking up at 5.

No, this morning, I wanna talk about snow. See, I think it’s high time that somebody laid down some ground-rules about Proper Snow Removal from your Car/Truck/Suv/Rickshaw/what-have-you. Driving down the NJ Turnpike this morning (yup, I’m back in NJ this week), I was appalled and enflamed by the number of cars that were covered, and I do mean covered, in snow; the drivers having cleared off only the bare minimum. One car I saw had only cleared off the windshield; the hood, roof, trunk and bumper of the car were covered in at least 4 inches of snow which was flying off as the driver flew at 65 mph down the NJT. Even more unbelievable was that the entire rear-window was completely obstructed; as in zero visibility. The number of cars that had barely been cleaned was staggering. The fact that their drivers didn’t seem to notice the Spy Hunter-esque cloud of snow and ice they were leaving in their wake, was even more amazing.

The I’m Too Good to Clean of My Car crowd appears to be comprised of three types of people:
1) those who drive BMW’s, Mercedes, Cadillacs, Infinities, and other luxury/status cars.
2) Those who drive SUV’s.
3) Women.

Typically, the most snow-sodden vehicles are Cadillac SUV’s driven by women.

What’s the matter girls, couldn’t rouse the maid to warm up the gas guzzling monster truck, just so you can make it to Curves before work? That’s no reason to put the rest of our lives in jeopardy.

If you aren’t tall enough to clean off your truck/suv, or just can’t be bothered to take the scaper to the Jag, please do us all a favor and stay the hell home.

You're Soaking in It

i'll vacuum the carpets.
i'll dust the house from top to bottom.
i'll even clean both bathrooms, including the toilets.
if there's one chore i absolutely despise beyond all others, it's washing dishes.

i've never like doing dishes and luckily, i hardly ever had to do it growing up. we had a good-old-fashioned dishwasher. y'know...big huge dial, little cup for the detergent, and a hole for the Jet Dry (that mythical potion that no dishwasher could work without). it made alot of noise and made the plates so wonderfully, deliciously hot. the only time i ever had to wash the dishes myself was on camping trips with the Scouts. there was no hot water; it redefined "roughing it". thankfully we only went camping once a year.

when i moved out of my parents house, into my 1st apartment with John and Chris, we didn't have a dishwasher. it was a rude, rude awakening. over the course of the 10 months we lived together, i learned how to cook using the minimum of kitchen supplies, just so i didn't have to wash as much. it worked pretty well for a while, John and Chris felt the same way and tried to do the same...tried...it didn't quite work out and on more than one occasion we wound up with every plate, cup, glass and bit of silverware we owned piled in the sink. when we parted ways i'm surprised we were able to pry the plates apart to pack them.

later on, when Stephen bought the house on Staten Island, i got so caught up in the excitement that i didn't even bother to ask about a dishwasher. by the time i was all settled in, it was too late; our little tiny kitchen was so packed with pots and pans and appliances that there was no room for a dishwasher.

i still try my best to minimize my kitchen-stuff usage, but sadly, stephen is one of those cooks who finds it impossible to make a scrambled egg without using as many knives, bowls, pans and gadgets as possible. since he gets home a couple of hours before i do, it's usually he who does the cooking. we cook almost every night, so there are dishes every single night. it's enough to drive a boy mad, or build shelves all around the kitchen to free up room to install a small apartment sized dishwasher, or switch to disposable plates, cups and utensils.

Thin and Gorgeous/AbFab (Junior's radio edit)

see? i told you it was amazing....you're welcome.

Blast From the Past

i got an e-mail yesterday from a girl i knew in high school. we'd kept in touch over the last 10+ years (once-in-a-blue-moon e-mails and christmas cards) and i was surprised to hear from her. she told me that my best friend from high school was in an accident; she didn't know all the specifics, but he was reported to be in very bad shape and needs to learn to speak again. (i got an e-mail from Nil this morning: apparently its head wound/brain damage induced aphasia).

now, I’m not freaking as much as I thought i would…I just hope he’s ok. I can’t imagine what that’s like; I can imagine how incredibly traumatic it must be for him, though. his mom must be freaking out; back when he and i were friends, they were very close.

it’s gone unsaid, but the deterioration of our friendship really affected me. . .I have some regrets over the direction it took, but only in a nostalgic way. we had been friends and partners on the Forensics (read: Speech & Debate) team all through high school. he was there for my 1st date, my 1st kiss, my last kiss (during my quasi-hetero period) and all the other typical HS drama and angst. we were really inseparable for the entire four years, and even maintained a strong friendship after he went to Boston, for college. looking back, other friends said that he was my 1st boyfriend and in a strange way they were right. we never fooled around or got physical; he was staunchly homophobic, but it might have been self-loathing "if i say i hate queers loud enough, people won't think i'm one" kinda deal. despite his vocalizing and my internalizing, we shared an incredible emotional relationship. when we stopped talking, it really hurt me.

We were SO close for such a long time and then he and his girlfriend (with whom i was also very close) broke up, and I then came out. i remember, he was very uncomfortable about me coming out (maybe because he was the last friend i told); and we had gotten into small verbal arguments in the weeks afterward. the last one ended with him telling me that i wasn't a real man. we didn't speak for quite a few years till i saw him at a mutual friend's Christmas party. since then he had moved to LA, picked up quite a drug problem and came back home to dry out, while i stagnated in retail, whored around Staten Island, Brooklyn and New Jersey, and met Stephen. The last time I saw him was at the Christmas party, like, 3 years ago and it was just…nothing. no drama, no awkwardness, just "hey" (and then he spilled his scotch on me). it was such a non-descript reunion that Stephen didn't even remember who i meant, till i mentioned the scotch incident.

Last I heard he was on Staten Island, and I’m tempted to look him up or visit the hospital or send flowers, but it seems like such an empty gesture.

I've Become a Freakin' M & M

and now, so can you!

You're Timeless to Me

well somebody fetch me a cookie!
i was right! Stephen's surprise was 2 tickets to see Hairspray with dinner afterward, and a hotel room in the city so we didn't have to schlep all the way back to Staten Island (the ferry runs once an hour on the weekends, and we always seem to miss it on the way home, early Sunday/late Saturday).

now i'm sure all you Yogurt Fags (ie: fruity bottom and brimming with culture) have already seen Hairspray, but for everyone else who gets to Broadway as often as i do (once a year, if i'm lucky) lemme tell you: this was such an awesome show! as much as i enjoyed Rent, the revival of Into the Woods, Naked Boys Singing and Chicago, they're all a bit...dark/downers; with depressing themes, sinister characters and some depressing (albeit wonderfully written) songs. i'll readily admit that i got choked up at all one point or another during all of them (yes, even during Naked Boys Singing).

a friend of mine had loaned me the Original Cast Recording a couple of years ago, and i thought it was really good; Snappy, plucky and peppy (y'know how i love my Harvey Fierstein). i wasn't prepared for how fantastic it would be to see it in living color. it was light, sweet and sunny; like a big glass of Tang spiked with vodka. plus, veteran Darlene Love was in the cast, playing Motormouth Mabel! she and the rest of the phenomonal cast (which included Tevin Campbell and that guy who played Kirk on the 80's sitcom Dear John), totally brought down the house! we left feeling so happy and elated that we practically floated to dinner!

it was a truly fantastic weekend; we had such a great time at dinner and the hotel. he did such a fantastic and romantic job, it's really no wonder that i fell so hard for him.

"And so i'm gonna shake and shimmy it /With all my might today'/Cause you cant stop /The motion of the ocean /Or the rain from above /They can try to stop the paradise/We're dreaming of /But they cannot stop the rhythm /Of two hearts in love to stay /'Cause you cant stop the beat"!~ You Can't Stop the Beat (Hairspray: Original Broadway Cast)

A Few Thoughts on a Friday Before a Three Day Weekend

1. it's so wonderfully cold here! we're talking, teens and 20's kinda cold...the kind of cold that stings your face, causes awful hat-hair for an entire day, and makes your venti-5 shot-skim-caramel-latte` (6 points) tastes so much hotter and sweeter and more delicious.

2. Junior's short mix of AbFab: Thin and Gorgeous is just as relevant and topical today as it was 10 years ago. it doesn't sound dated in the least. the man is an absolute genius and altars should be built to him.

3. Taking the A train at 34th and 8th actually gets me to work a few minutes earlier than the F train at 34th and 6th. of course that means that i'll be spending another 10 minutes with Merlin...

4. Casey Stratton's cover of Tori Amos' Butterfly is so much better than the original (even though his voice sounds exactly like Tori) it's almost shocking. i'm surprised he's not more popular. Junior remixed a couple of his original songs (House of Jupiter and Blood) both of which are phenomenal both as piano driven sob songs and as dance music.

5. Buffy, Season 7 is the best of the whole series. it's building to such a wonderfully dramatic climax. on one hand, i'm sad to see that we're almost done with the series (again), but on the other the last couple of months watching have built to this inevitable conclusion, so i'm psyched...even though i know how it all turns out...cause we watched the whole series a couple of years ago...boy i feel just a tad more geeky than usual.

6. last night's Chinese food extravaganza was amazing. my mom wound up cancelling at the last minute, so we just ordered in (and watched Buffy and Angel). i don't know why, but it was the best Chicken Chow Fun (7 points per cup) i've ever had. maybe the food was just that good or maybe it was because i've not had it in weeks.

7. this weekend, stephen is giving me my Valentine's gift. it's a surprise and involves cabs, mass transit and "dressing nicely", he's also told me to pack a bag because we'll be "sleeping out". now my interest is piqued. my gut instinct is that he got us tickets to a show, but the "pack a bag" thing really has me guessing. he's a notoriously good gift-giver, so i know that i'll like it, whatevr it is. we shall see...

8. truly creative people make me sick. ok, not really sick, just incredibly jealous. take this collage made by MS. it combines two of my favorite things (Buffy and collages) and is so fabulous that i wanna throw up. thanks alot M. (btw. if you think this is as amazing as i do, then you should check out her photography; you'll be blown away).

9. speaking of creative, did anyone else watch Chocolate Runway Challenge, on the Food Network, the other night? i was so completely transfixed, like a bunny in the headlights. it'll probably be re-run to death later this month, and if you get the chance, i highly reccomend watching it. i mean, who knew that the fashion industry had a place for chocolate?

the Further Adventures of Merlin

i hate him.

no matter how fucking likable he is...and he is extremely likable...i just wanna head-butt him and then kick him in the nuts. why?

1. he's trying way too hard to be my friend. i don't want a friend. i have alot of friends outside of work and quite a few at work. i don't need a half-wit from Nutley, NJ to be my friend. i'm here to teach you, not be your friend.

2. he's needy. he all but begs for my approval, like a cocker-spaniel. every time he does a report or looks at some paperwork, he asks if he's done a good job. i almost want to start tossing cookies at him. instead, i'm just withholding. his 1st day he said he was gonna buy me lunch for all the time i was taking to teach him. i told him it was appreciated, but not to...it's my job to teach him. he kept insisting till i blew up. the following week he bought me Season 6 of the Golden Girls. i gave him money 'cause i didn't want him to think that he was "buying me off".

3. he's not funny. he thinks he's funny, but he's not. he's sad and obtuse the way older straight guys tend to be. his jokes rarely make sense and i usually don't laugh (more withholding).

4. he'll fuck something up or reach a roadblock and then lie and say that i never taught him the right way, even though it's in the notes that he refuses to refer to. it's driving me nuts. what was the point of taking notes if you're not gonna read 'em? if that's not enough to make me wanna stab him in the neck with the fountain pen stephen gave me for my birthday, he keeps asking the same questions over and over and over and over.

i can't...i just can't deal. i'm really not cut out to train someone.

a Valentine's Day Fairy's Tale

Once upon a time there was a boy...we'll call him KoolAidBoy (again). KoolAidBoy always hated Valentine's Day. Why, you ask? because every Valentine's Day that he could remember seemed like an exercise in humiliation. like all the other kids at St. Frances Cabrini Elementary School, a couple of weeks before V-Day he'd pick out a box of cards to give to each of his 39 class mates, usually featuring Snoopy and the Peanuts. a couple of days before, he'd sit down and write them out, saving his favorite card, with Snoopy and Woodstock hugging on the front, for the girl he loved: Alyson (yup, with a Y). she was pretty and quiet and had the nicest hair of all the girls; and was French (not from France, but she was descended from French people; that made her so much more exotic in a neighborhood of mostly Italian and a couple of Irish kids). she also didn't know he was alive. well, she knew, but she didn't exactly care. Anyway, Valentines Day would arrive and every year it was the same thing:

the teacher would have her Mailbox all set up and all the kids would drop there cards in. then someone would be chosen "mailman" (usually the teacher's favorite student: the abnormally tall and brainy buck-toothed girl with the braces and heavy Italian accent). not everyone subscribed to the notion that everyone should get a card and only got cards for their immediate circle of friends, so it really was quite interesting to watch who got cards and who didn't. Every year, KoolAidBoy watched as Alyson tore into her cards while eating her little candy hearts and Enteman's sugar topped cupcake. not once did she even blink when she got to the Snoopy and Woodstock card (the one that came to symbolize a deep and meaning full love, a love for all the ages); it was just tossed in the pile with the rest.

every.
year.

KoolAidBoy came to associate Valentine's Day with this same level of rejection and being ignored, well into his early 20's (tricks and hook-ups tend to look at you funny when you ask if they would be your Valentine) and even went on an Anti-Valentine's Day Ski trip with two of his favorite girl-friends, in college (they never made it to the slopes, just sat around drinking and smoking and hating guys who didn't ask them to be their Valentines).

his 1st real Valentine was a boy he had met online and had become fast friends with. they both worked in the mall, a couple of stores from each other, and would spend equal amounts of time running back and forth. by the time V-Day rolled around, it was candy and a Tinky Winky doll. KoolAidBoy was so happy when the feelings were returned! a week or two later, KoolAidBoy met his 1st boyfriend (VegetarianDelawareBoy), and the quasi-romantic vibe between him and his mall buddy morphed into friendship (one that's spanned almost 10 Valentines Days). he remained KoolAidBoy's only Valentine till KoolAidBoy met a guy with who came to be known only as Shithead. it need not be mentioned that Shithead was a lousy Valentine.

then KoolAidBoy met a guy. this guy (who we'll refer to as SexyShavedHeadGuy) swept him off his feet for three consecutive Valentine's Days: romantic dinners, flowers, a trip to DC and finally an engagement ring. KoolAidBoy (now KoolAidGuy) was...is...completely head-over-heels in love. SexyShavedHeadGuy makes every day feel like Valentine's Day.

KoolAidGuy does have one regret, though:

he wasted all those Snoopy and Woodstock cards on some silly faux French girl.

"They say that bears have love affairs...we're merely mammals...let's misbehave"~Let's Misbehave (Cole Porter)

Coming Out of the Cupboard

it looks like i'm gonna have to come out to my mom, again. no she hasn't suffered some amnesia-causing brain injury. when i say "come out" i mean that i have to admit to her that i'm on Weight Watchers.
in case you don't know, i'm Italian. an interesting fact about Italians: we eat...alot; we show we love each other through food and my mom is no exception. i've mentioned it before, she's a phenomenal cook. she makes big meals...big hearty meals...big hearty artery clogging, ass-fat making meals; the kinda meals that made me the "huggably chubby cub" that you've all come to know and tolerate. actually, over the last couple of years she's gotten alot better with cooking "light". she's stopped frying (except for special occasions), limits the amount of butter or oil she sautees with, uses ground turkey instead of beef, etc. on the whole she's a very Weight Watchers Friendly kinda cook...UNLESS you tell her you're on Weight Watchers.

tell her that you're "dieting", "watching your figure", or "trying to cut back" and she immediately slips into Maternal Crisis Mode: an extra teaspoon of Olive Oil here, some flour dredging there, maybe a little bit more Parmesan cheese; like Odysseyus's men, you get ensorcelled by the fragrance of meatballs frying, homemade Vodka Sauce bubbling on the stove top, or broccoli rabe` sauteed in (twice her normal amount of) olive oil and garlic. you black out, lose all willpower and the next thing you know you've gone back for seconds of the veal cutlets and are contemplating thirds of the mushrooms sauteed in marsala (with the thin veil of olive oil shimmering on the top).

yup, mom's a feeder (despite her vehement protests). it's almost cliche`, but no matter how much weight i've gained or lost over the last 30 years, she always sees me as too thin and tries to fatten me up before i leave her presence. i'm lucky to have her; i've got friends whose mothers tell them all the time that they're too fat and need to diet. if my mother ever said that to me i'd be absolutely crushed and thoroughly upset (aside from the fact that it would be a complete 180 degree change). it's really kinda funny when you think about it.

Thursday night we're going out with her and my father for chinese food. i figure that's the best place to tell her, it'll be apparent soon enough when i whip out my Guide to Eating Out and Point Tracker and it's the best place to tell her without making a scene and because if she's gonna try and force feed me, Chinese food is the most point concious thing to be force fed. Stephen will be there to hold my hand for support (that's the key to Weight Watchers: support). i know she come to respect my decision, she'll acccept me because she loves me. i also know that there will also come a point where i will have to choose.

choose between her "love" and being able to wear a size 33 in jeans again.

"Hush up, Don't tell Mama,Shush up,Don't tell Mama...Don't tell Mama,Whatever you do. If you had a secret, You bet I would keep it. I would never tell on you.I'm breaking every promise That I gave her, So won't you kindly do a girl A great big favor? And please, my sweet patater, Keep this from the Mater"~ Don't Tell Mama (Cabaret: Original Cast Recording)

the Homo-Mooners

well things seem to be shaping up quite nicely with regards to our San Francisco honeymoon. here are the details so far:
1. the airline has been booked: we're leaving at the ass-crack of dawn, the day after the wedding. honestly, if we could leave right from the hall we would. that's how much we're gagging for this trip.

2. the hotel has been booked: Hotel Nikko. we've got a gorgeous looking room with a huge plush bed and fantastic bathroom, on the Club Floor. there's a wine bar only for those staying on that floor, and a fantastic looking restaurant with Japanese food. i'm guessing the sushi will be top notch, being right on the water and all.

3. (thanks to the Pampered Chef) we're taking a trip to a day spa! It's called International Orange, and we found it on SpaFinder.com. We did so well in sales last year, with PC, that we earned a $250 gift certificate to be used anywhere we wanted (they gave us a list of 300 retailers). i've never been to a spa before. i'm not really into the whole "relaxation through massage and mud-wrap" thing (gimme an espresso and a good book and i'm fine), but stephen is, so to a spa we go! i'm sure i'll like it, i mean how bad could a place dedicated to one's total relaxation really be?

4. Alacatraz: ever since i read about it in Significant Others, i've wanted to visit. it just seems so cool and creepy. plus it would be a total trip to go for the infamous Night Tour and cling to Stephen like a cheap suit. i've heard you need to book a tour well in advance, but the only thing is, i can't seem to figure out how to get tickets. there was one site that our travel agent sent me, but it seems a little dodgy. we've got time to research it further.

i'm really psyched though. i mean, i know it's still 8 months away, but it's still gonna be some week. who knows, we could wind up like Maryann Singleton and never want to leave!

Critical Math

i've always been bad at math. i mean...really, really bad.

in grammar school, i was that kid who had the perpetually lost look on his round little face when the teacher would talk about integers, long division without remainders and anything to do with fractions. the only mathematically concepts i ever grasped in grammar school were roman numerals. high school was even worse, when we got onto algebra and trigonometry. the only thing i learned was to dread math class as much as gym. numbers became a language i never fully grasped; completely expressionless and devoid of passion, like Chinese or Korean. it lacks poetry, expression or emotion. i struggled through, for three years, barely passing every term and then opting not to take it my senior year. when i did graduate, it was without a New York State "Regents" diploma (i failed all three exams). i fared a little better on the SATs, somehow pulling a 500 out of my ass on the second try. my awful HS grades and pitiful performance on the SATs landed me in "Math Appreciation" my freshman year of college (it was a rehash of everything i failed to learn in HS). that was the last math class i ever took, and boy am i glad. ironically, though, i've stumbled into a job where i'm dealing with numbers all day long; calculating interest and dividends and holding back for accumulating debits. thankfully, Microsoft has a trusty calculator built into all it's Windows packages.

the reason i bring this up is because, at lunch today Squirt attempted to teach me some "new math". Specifically, the NYS Board of Ed's newest way of teaching multiplication to NY's youth. it took her all of 10 minutes and she used the back of a TGI Friday's placemat and a red crayon. i'm not sure how she did it, but she mulitplied 70 and 80 using a box split into four quardants. when the smoke cleared she had the right answer, but i'll be damned if i know how she did it.

much like when she attempted to explain the way Major League Baseball is set up, she tried to explain how she got her answer (5600), but no matter how she explained it...it didn't make sense. call me old school, but it seemed a bit frivolous to move beyond the basics (7 x 8 = 56; tack on the two 0's and you have 5600). she assures me, however that any other way to multiply is simple de classe and hopelessly retro.

next week she's going to explain fractions at Applebees using suger packets and toothpicks. till then, i'll stick with my trusty calculator and a hefty sense of inferiority.

"Let's stay in tonight/Maybe disconnect the phone/The correct arithmetic/Just two of us at home"~One and One Make Five (the Pet Shop Boys)

Friday I'm In Love

another day is over.
it's just before bedtime. stephen and i just got home from Dinner and a Movie, sushi and Because I Said So, respectively. the sushi was damn good (Philadephia Roll, Boston Roll and 1/2 a House Special Roll [white asparagus and black-pepper tuna inside, spicy yellowtail outside]: 10 points!) and the movie was cute; Mandy Moore is just cute as a button, but somebody needs to put Diane Keaton down...it's time. the poor old girl is just shrill and irritating.
it was just really terriffic just to go out on a date with Stephen. it's an oasis in the midst of our terribly busy lives.
maybe i'll post tomorrow...
maybe after i cash my paycheck...
maybe after i pay my cellphone bill...
maybe after i take Squirt out to lunch...
maybe after i run some Valentines Day-prep errands...

maybe not.

Weight and See: 33 Points and Counting

i'm not used to eating. rather: i'm not used to eating when i'm not hungry and during the day i'm rarely hungry, so i usually don't eat. however, by the time i get home from a hard day at the office, i'm usually ravenous and procede to nosh till bedtime. stephen has opined that my "daytime fasting" has put my body into "starvation mode" forcing it to stockpile whatever nutrients i do digest, as fat. this is how i've been living for a very long time, so to attempt to change my behavior is gonna take alot of time and effort.

as usual, i didn't eat today. i had two cups of coffee, a Chips Ahoy 100 Calorie Snack Pack and a Weight Watchers granola bar-thing, all totalling 6 points. oh yeah..there was also water. lots and lots of water. an entire liter in fact. i peed 3 times (we all know how much i love hitting the men's room at work). now, day one is nearly complete, and i've still got eleven points to eat before bedtime. i've already eaten dinner (Enchiladas: 10 points) and a bowl of popcorn with butter (6 points).

stephen's in the kitchen as we speak scooping me 1/2 a cup of Haggen Dazs Mayan Chocolate ice-cream (8 points). i dont' think i'll be able to eat the final 3.

do people really lose weight this way?

"What you two don't seem to realize is that inside of me, inside of me, there is a thin person just screaming to get out". "Just the one, dear"?~ Absolutely Fabulous (Jennifer Saunders & June Whitfield)

Weight a Minute 2: Watch It

tonight, stephen is taking me to my 1st Weight Watchers meeting.

i've never been a fan of "meetings". i think they're wonderful for other people, but i do think there's a certain stigma attached to attending a help-group. i think that may actually be the trouble...i hate to admit when i need help. if i can't do something by myself, i cross my arms and scowl and claim not to have wanted to do (whatever) it (is) in the 1st place. i don't know why...it's just my thing. i'd rather admit defeat than accept a handout.

this Weight Watchers thing reaks of self-help. i'm gonna try my best not to judge all the fat Staten Island housewives/soccer moms and their knuckle-dragging husbands, that i'll be rubbing chubby elbows with, until i've actually met them.
let the bean counting begin.

"How you loved to feed me! Look at your chubby baby now, ma, I'm a fat, fat man, a damn fatso. I can't stop the fat!"~ Fatso (Dom Deluise)

the Long Awaited "Post About Death"

yup. this is the one you've been waiting for. you knew it was gonna come eventually, so here we go. let's cut right to the chase:

the priest who performed the actual funeral scared the living shit out of me. his entire homily was about how Stephen's grandfather ("Red"), was met in Heaven by all the loved ones and family that had gone on before him. now, it wasn't that i'm afraid i won't be let into their version of Heaven...i'm actually hoping i won't. i'm hoping for a sort-of Gay Club Med with frequent shuttle buses to Straight Town USA (a nice place to visit, but why spend an eternity there?). no...the thing that scared me was that should i die tomorrow there would be nobody at the Gate to greet me (except for my long dead Schnauzzer, Susie, and an even longer dead iguana, Henry).

as i've mentioned before, we're the black sheep of our clan and i hardly know any of my extended family. my grandparents have all been dead for quite some time, but i barely knew any of them. my mom's father died before i was born, and her mother moved to Florida when i was 10 and then died while i was in college; my memories of her are fuzzy, at best. my dad's mother was in a nursing home with severe Alzheimer's all the years i could remember and then died when i was about 12; i can count on one hand the number of time i met his father, before his death when i was 13.

why would they come and welcome someone they don't know?

this anxiety about family (or my lack-thereof), was with me since wednesday evening when we found out that Red had died. after work, i met stephen at his grandmother's house. there were quite a few people there, making the requisite condolence calls. the following day, i met him after part one of the wake, again at Nana's house, and it was a mob scene of family. i've never seen so many people, bound by blood or marriage, in one place. it was the same over the next couple of days. swarms of people came to pay their respect to Red, his widow and their immediate family. my head was spinning from all the introductions to cousins and aunts and uncles. it's inconceivable to me that people interact and communicate with their families like this. it's also completely and thoroughly upsetting.

while the priest was babbling on, using metaphors about marathon runners welcomed at the finish line, i couldn't help but cry. somehow, i've gone 30 years without having anything more than a passing relationship with the people with whom i share blood and a last name.listening to him, i couldn't help but feel such a complete and total sense of loss and fear, which were allayed much later on when i told John how awful i was feeling. his response was very quick and very simple:

"i'm your family...for what it's worth"

you'd be surprised how much it is worth.

later that night at i saw Jenn at the Pampered Chef show were doing for one of her friends. we've not seen each other since New Years and the 1st hug she gave me helped to crush the rest of the fear and anxiety. it's amazing how potent a hug can be from both her and Stephen. they're the only people i know who hug well enough to squeeze all the stress, hurt and sadness out of me.

by the end of the evening, i had all but forgotten how alone i had felt hours before.

(they all better die a few minutes before me, so i have someone to meet me at the gate)

"And I'll be your light/I'm shining in the darkest night/I'll take you to a higher place burnin' so bright/I'll be the song that moves you when all hope is gone/I'll give you strength to carry on/I'm burnin' so bright/I'll be your light"~I'll Be Your Light (Kristine W)

Waiting to Exhale 2

Stephen's doing well, thank you all very much for your kind and supportive words.

Waiting to Exhale

Stephen's grandfather passed away Wednesday afternoon; things have been a little crazy going back and forth to his grandmother's house and the funeral home. work is terribly busy, tutoring Merlin hasn't left time for anything but work. i haven't had much time to blog...or eat a decent meal...
the wake was yesterday and today.
the funeral is tomorrow.
we have a PC show in Pennsylvania tomorrow night.
my dad's birthday is on Sunday.

i'll be back on monday.