Category Archive

“Happy Independence Day”, I said to Dog as soon as I unlocked the front door to our house Sunday evening, “you hear me, don’t you girl.” She and I both plopped down in the back outside and stared at Fraidy swim around and around… and around for a while. It was warm and quiet. It was nice.

Monday morning. 6:45 a.m. Alarm goes off. I hit snooze and roll over towards Violet:

me: I’m very jealous that you get to fall back to sleep after I get up.

V: I don’t fall back asleep.

me: Oh please. I come back in here after my shower and you’re sound asleep.

V: No I’m not. I’m just lying here.

me: Doing what?

V: Thinking.

me: With your eyes closed?

V: Yep.

me: Well, I’m going to think with my eyes closed earlier tonight. I’m tired.

While driving in our very old car, when Paradise City comes on the radio:

me: Man, nothing else can make that sound.

Violet: What sound?

me: The Axl Rose sound.

Violet:The Axl Rose sound?

me: It’s not a car part, Violet. It’s the guy singing on the radio.

Violet: Oh that is just awful. His mother must be so embarrassed.

 Last night Violet came home quite a few hours after me. I was already in pj’s, curled up on the couch watching old episodes of Roseanne when the front door opened. She tossed her bags, smothered me in kisses, sat down next to me and asked, “Hey love, did you get me bobby pins today by any chance?”

me: You know I did. I called you from the bobby-pin-hair-stuff aisle of the store to see what color you wanted… while you were at a store too, might I add.

Violet: Ooooh, thanks baby!  My hair is everywhere. Where are they?

me: In my bag. What’s the deal with you always wanting me to pick up bobby pins… even when you’ll be at a store too, like today?

Violet: I told you, it’s very romantic.

me: Oh right. Romantic.

Violet: (while raiding her hair with a handful of new bobby pins, destined to eventually be lost and found all over our bed) Jesse, it just is. It’s a very romantic gesture and I love you for it… (still mindlessly pinning her hair) You know, this is the kind of stuff you should be blogging about.

This morning was an especially rude Monday. I was having an absolutely wonderful weekend, fell asleep Sunday night and the next thing I knew I was wearing a collared shirt and sitting at a desk in downtown Seattle.

I was chatting with Jup on the beloved gmail this morning, as she also woke up on the wrong day, and was going through old, old… old emails of ours instead of letting this Monday thing happen. I forgot so much of what I use to write about, how I use to write. I was telling her my (not so much anymore) secret fear that college ruined my ability to write. I think I’m too structured now, inside and out, to think that openly. I can’t say I miss feeling so all over the place but I do miss writing that way.

One of my old favorites was to take the world out of context and quote it at the end of every email. It was a different quote every email, which isn’t very hard if you spend more than ten minutes a day even slightly aware. Anyway, here are a few I ran into while stealing Jup’s idea of reading old emails instead of doing anything I should/need to be doing:

“I don’t care what anyone says dude, that’s sex with robots.” (an old friend, 2003) 

“Growing up, every one said I should have a dream. I had to find out on my own that if I say this dream out loud it could kill me.” (a woman on a bus on Martin Luther King Day, 2002)

“It’s real easy to follow an avalanche. Tricky part is when you change your mind and your direction. Lotta pushin’, that’s how I got here anyway” (an old guy on the bus, Jack, he liked my hair, we started talking, 2002)

Saturday: I lazily lounged around the back yard watching Fraidy swim around and around… and around. I kept my eye out, hoping Marcus might come marching through the yard like he owns the place, like he does- no luck.  I hadn’t seen him in two weeks and the last time I saw him he looked terrible. He usually made his appearances on Sundays, but at this point I wasn’t holding my breath.

Sunday evening: I had just gotten back from the grocery store. More excited about making something to eat than putting the groceries away, I left the bags in front of the fridge and began to chop up vegetables. As the onions began to cook I opened both the front and back door for some air. The phone rang. It was my mom.  We started talking while I chopped vegetables. With the phone tucked under my shoulder, I picked up the cutting board and turned around to throw the garlic in the pan when, to my utter surprise and fleeting disbelief, I nearly tripped over a very large, tailless, raccoon.

Neither of us saw the other until we were just too close to not totally freak out. As far as Marcus could tell there was a wide open door leading to a bag full of glistening beet tops, kale and rainbow chard. Makes sense now, but at that moment he scared the shit out of me.  

“AaahaAAhahHhHHahHHAHAHAHAHHHH!” I gasped.

“What is it!?!” my mom asked.

“There’s (gasp) a (gasp)….”

He froze. I froze.

“Get ooooooouuuuuut of here, Marcus!” I eventually shouted while backing away.

He looked totally surprised and rejected by my yelling. His head and shoulders slumped down and he gave me this talk-to-the-hand gesture as he turned away to leave. I was caught so off guard that I reacted quite dramatically but the simple fact was, there was a raccoon in my kitchen. I did notice how much better he looked. I hadn’t realized just how big he was until he was standing at my feet… in my kitchen- Big. Raccoon.

“Who the hell is Marcus, honey? Get out of your house! Call the police!” my mom ordered.

I flew out the back door barefoot and explained to my mom that this Marcus guy was just my raccoon. My concern was that I didn’t know for sure if he had found his way out or if he was hiding somewhere in the house, shocked and insulted, trying to gather himself before he had to face the world again. I got off the phone, grabbed my neighbor and a big stick and we scoped the place out together. As far as we could tell, Marcus had left.

As the neighbor and I were discussing what to do about my overly cordial, tailess guy the phone rang. Violet was calling from the airport in Baltimore, about to catch her flight home. She asked what I was up to and I told her that I had just had an unexpected guest stop by but that I kicked him out and that  I felt kind of bad about it.

She said, “Oh no. Who? Why?”

I said, “Because I only made enough pasta for one, really, and I’m assuming Marcus is not allowed inside, yes?”

More than not, it’s the off guard, unpredictably random, who-woulda-ever… can’t-make-this-up moments that fling me flat on my face, 117 million feet into the ground, inlove, than last time… again.

At the kitchen table this morning:  

me: “Hey, what are you drinking?”

Violet: “Cherry juice. Want some?”

me: “Don’t you mean cranberry juice?”

Violet: “No, cherry juice. Do you want me to pour you a glass?”

me: “When did you get cherry juice?”

Violet: “When I got all of that cranberry juice.”

In unison: “They were on sale!”

Violet: “Oh, you remember?!? You’re sweet.”

I don’t know why. I don’t know what happened. I don’t understand what changed. And I will never ask for an explanation… ever.

Saturday, while I was out with my out-of-town friend Violet called. I excused myself, answered the phone and she said, “Hey, do you have a second?” I said, “of course”, of course. Violet said, “Today at my gardening class i had a revelation.” I said, “mm hmm, and what was it?” Violet said, “We should get a dog. How about in June? Lets get a dog together in June.”

I had nothing to say because:

1. I was in the bathroom peeing and someone walked in, which is awkward and 2. Oh.My.Gawd.

So, now the conversation has moved from: “Can we please get a dog? Please! Pleeeeeease? Pleeeeeeeease!!!”

-to-

“What kind of dog should we look into getting?”

We have both agreed that a mutt is the only option, but Violet would prefer one mixed with Australian Shepherd and i would prefer one mixed with Boxer. The only reason i mention this is because of the uncanny resemblance that we each have with our prefered breed. Vain or good taste?… Probably a mix of the two.

One of my very favorite friends flew into town this weekend because her aunt passed away unexpectedly. It was not the happiest reason to see each other but it was wonderful to spend my Saturday and most of Sunday with her. As we said goodbye, locked in a bear hug at the rental car portion of the airport parking lot she said, “Seriously, I really love you.”

I laughed a little, still locked in a hug and replied: “Ya, ok, good. No more bullshit, i love you too… now. I mean, I used to just say that, but now i’m serious.”

Jup: “For years I just said it, totally full of shit, but you know, it was just to make things work, to get by.”

me: “So many years of being totally indifferent about you- no feelings what so ever. But you were just so damn cute i thought why not. But now, I mean,  i really do.”

Jup: “Exactly. That’s exactly how it went for me too. Glad it’s out there. Ok, gotta go. I love you… for real this time.”

I kissed her cheek goodbye… again.  She drove off and away to her aunt’s family house for a long week of mourning and a funeral next Saturday.

A sense of humor- I’ll tell you what: What.

Walking down the street in Atlanta this guy yells at me from across the street:

dude I’d never seen before: “Fuckin’ dyyyyyyyke!”

me: “Fuckin’ really tall guy with cool shooooooes!”

Gotta call it like you see it.

Sunday my girlfriend, Violet, and I went to an Easter-ish dinner party. We were invited by one of her old college friends, Adia, to have dinner at her moms’ place. Her hippy dippy goddess loving moms hosted a lovely gathering. During dinner someone started a conversation about their upcoming travel plans and I mentioned that I had spent some time in Eastern Europe. I was telling them about my experience being an American dyke overseas and how I was ‘read’ by others… which was everything but as a lesbian.

I started my travels in Poland and 4 months later ended up at the southern tip of Croatia. And never, not once, did anyone from these regions guess or assume that I was a lesbian… My blue eyes and (short faux hawked) blonde hair received a lot of attention from men in Hungary especially. I had never had so many free drinks offered, let alone the offers to dance and once of marriage as I did by the men in Budapest on one single Saturday night.

I went out dancing with a crowd from the hostel where I was staying. This crowd included 3 incredibly gorgeous women from South America. All three were stunningly attractive and quite feminine looking… but I was blond. And as it went that night- short blond boi dyke trumped tall, dark, sexy South American woman.

One by one, and a few times two or three men would come over to our table and ask me to dance. Flattered and uninterested I would answer, “no thank you.” Some of them would hang around to chat with me for a bit.

It was always a lot of the same sweet and entertaining back and forth that went like this:

“You have beautiful eyes!”
“Thank you.”
“You have beautiful hair! Why so short?”
“Thank you.”
“Where are you from?”
“You don’t have a guess?”
“Oh sure, you are Swedish girl.”
“No, not Swedish.”
“Well then, tell me your name.”
“My name is jesse.”
“Oh jesse, what a beautiful name. Nice to meet you jesse.”
“Uh huh, nice to meet you too.”
“So jesse, why don’t you want to dance with me? You are married? Have a male friend? You don’t like the dancing?”
“No, no, I just don’t feel like dancing, that’s all.”
“Will you dance with my friend?”
“Is your friend a girl?”
“Ha ha ha… no.”
“Um, no thank you.”
“You are stubborn, yes? Strong woman, yes?”
(smiling) “Sure.”
“Oh jesse, I know you! I know who you are.”
(still smiling and quite amused) “Oh ya? What do you know?”
You are Gerrrman girl, no? Yes!! You are Geerrrman! Ha ha! Strong Geeerrrman woman. Ha ha ha!”
(bigger smile) “No, no. I’m not German… I’m gay.”
(pausing with genuine curiosity) “I don’t know where is Gay.”
(completely charmed) “That’s alright… do you still feel like dancing?”

The South American girls ditched me – I would have too.

(a recent phone call with my brother)

brother: Dude, I’m so excited! My vacation starts this Friday.

me: Ah, well, it is long over due. What are you gonna do?

brother: I think I’ll drive the ‘Stang all the way down the 101 to the Mexican boarder.

me: Oh, that’ll be a beautiful drive. But, what are you going to do when you get there?

brother: Um, turn left.