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Please note that this entire conversation was apropos of nothing. In fact, we were both just doing our own thing, listening to music…
Violet: You know what?!?
Me: Nope. What?
Violet: We should have our first dance be to a Cher song!
Me: Don’t play with me like that, V.
Violet: I’m serious. It would be perfect.
Me: I have found the one.
It was a toss up this morning, whether to try my damnedest to finally write a post for my blog or update my resume. Somehow the space between December and now, here, feels like miles. And for the many times in my every single day I feel this aching pull to get back to this space I get stuck on, “but where do I start now?” I don’t know where to start, or where I left off really.
My life, since starting this new job, has shifted and changed so drastically and so suddenly. Mostly this is a good thing but in other ways I’ve been so consumed by all of the new that I have put aside and flat out dropped pieces of myself, like this blog, that are so, so very important to me. So, here I am, trying to get back.
Hi there, friends and passersbys. How have you been?
How about I start with the recent good in my life, the stuff that is keeping me above water as I continue to struggle a bit, to find a balance and other things:
Last week I turned 34 and for this Violet, the Seal and I went on at weeklong vacation in the middle of gorgeous Nowhere Washington where the three of us did a whole lot of skiing, eating, napping, kissing, laughing and nothing at all, all the live long days. We were surrounded by huge mountains and trees and deer, unfamiliar faces, good food, tucked in a beautiful warm cabin with no responsibilities as far as all of my mind’s attempt to circle back to worrying about something could find. It was amazing. I needed it. Badly. It was a simple get away and both Violet and I are toting it as potentially the best vacation we’ve ever had together… so far, of course.
When we re-entered reality I immediately crashed, emotionally, again. I keep doing this, which has me considering a few serious changes, one being my place of work. (The job is ideal, nearly perfect, the place in which I do this is not, but this, hopefully, will be a different post, post a resolve of sorts.) So, I skimmed the surface of responsibilities and made it through my short work week. The light at the end of this week being an evening out with my bestie in the whole wide world and universe, including all other yet-discovered worlds and universes, Rene, that Friday. She and I, as I have mentioned before, have known each other our entire lives. Well actually, I was born 12 days earlier than she, so I guess I had a week and some without her, but that, very truly, is all.
So, just this last Friday Rene picked me up so that we could celebrate our 34th anniversary out on the town together, just the two of us, which is not something we find much time for these days. And usually when we do find time together we make grand plans of going out, drinking fancy drinks and then going dancing till the wee hours. And what we end up doing is choosing to order Thai food around 5 pm., eat it right out of the containers at her place, in sweatpants (that we like to call “our eatin’ pants”) as we watch the trashiest tv we can find while talking about anything and everything, like we do. And this sort of evening is usually all said and done, with us soundly sleeping by 10p.m… 11 p.m. at the latest.
But for our 34th anniversary, for this one, Rene was pretty insistent that she wanted to go out! Wear real clothes and go out in public, together. So, that’s what we did.
We had a lovely evening, which is obvious enough. We ate, drank, and talked about everything. We wrapped things up early, like we always do, and headed back to my place around 8:30.
On the way home Rene said, “It’s pretty early, even by our standards. How about I come in for a drink and just hang out for a bit.” I thought that sounded great. I warned her that Violet was out with friends and so I was certain she turned the heat down to below freezing and that it might be chilly in there at first. Normally Rene would admit to minding this, but she just said, “Oh well, it will warm up. That’s fine.” I guess if there was anywhere to get suspicious, that was it. But I just said, “Ok then.”
We pulled up to my house, I unlocked the door and said hello to the Seal as she ran towards me like a wiggly flood of happiness, like she always does. But then…
As I looked up I saw streamers hanging from the ceiling and then… then as my eyes began to drift to the left I saw a friend of mine, Mark, standing on my stairwell, in the dark. And as my mind began to lose grip on what was real and what was not I saw another friend of mine, standing right next to Mark, standing next to another friend of mine, standing next to another friend of mine… on my stairwell. And just as soon as my brain let my eyes realize that my stairwell was covered in friends they all yelled, “Surprise!”
Violet, who, before meeting me, used to be an honest girl who couldn’t even exaggerate without blushing, had totally duped me and collaborated with Rene and everyone else that I love and adore so much and threw me a surprise party. And let me tell you, I was so, so very surprised. After they all yelled “surprise” I started to feel this feeling, along with a mad rush of adrenaline and an overwhelming jolt of immense love for every single smiling face I also felt like my legs were going to give out on me. I don’t think I was going to faint, but I certainly couldn’t stand so I just sort of fell back onto the couch and sat there staring at the stairwell full of all of my favorites. Speechless. And if you’ve ever read any of this blog or know me at all, you know that speechless is not a common condition.
Eventually, I pulled myself mostly back together and had an incredibly fabulous evening with an amazing collection of wonderful, favorite people. Two of my newest wonderful-favorites being Jen and Sara (from we are (having) so much fun.)
Looking around my living room that night was like a head count of reasons and reminders why I am very certainly, one of the luckiest.
So, there we have it. This little snippet of the best of my world lately is my attempt to reopen the door back into my own blog and all of the other places that keep me upright in the day and warm at night. More to come… and thanks for hanging on and coming back.
Violet and I promise each other every year, as we find ourselves running out to get one last thing on Christmas eve, or as we are wrapping everything early Christmas morning, we will not wait until the very last minute to get things ready for Christmas ever again! We will not wait until the very last minute to get things ready for Christmas ever ever ever again!
This year Violet and I have waited until the last minute to get things ready for Christmas. Every year, in the 11th hour, we scramble to buy a few things and make a few things for everyone in our collective family. One year everyone got a little something we bought and a jar of home made kahlua, another year it was candied orange rinds, the year before that it was home made hot fudge.
This year we had all but given up on making anything, as time has slipped by and we are just too busy. But then, last night we decided we should try to one up ourselves and wrap the gifts we had scrambled to get that day before Christmas morning. But it was late and we realized we didn’t have any wrapping paper.
That’s when Violet dug out several paper bags, a potato and some paint. And here’s what came of it all:
We cut open the bags, cut the potato in half…
And then we carved:
And then we covered our potatoes in paint and stamped and stamped and stamped the night away.
We made wrapping paper, tags for the presents and holiday cards.
Here’s one of the cards (and yes, the red collar has been hand painted on each and every dog, it’s the Seal’s signature look after all):
The model/inspiration for the project?
Coolest potato ever, no?
I am exhausted. Violet is exhausted. Yesterday was an entire day of driving after waking up in the woods, in a tent, after 4 hours of sleep and in my case, with a wee headache from the slight over indulgence the night before.
The long lesbian camping wedding weekend is over. We made it.
Now here’s the part I started writing in my head on Saturday as I sat in the sunshine, amongst a crowd of people, deep in the woods, as the music started and the brides both walked down the isle: How wonderful it can be to be wrong.
The wedding was gorgeous. Even after the sun set behind the tall forest of trees, as I watched two women, in front of a very loving crowd of more than a hundred friends and family, promise ideas and ideals of their love with all of the support from all of us I kept my sunglasses on. I think the only person crying more than me was one of the brides sister. The ceremony was perfect. And I am not trying to overplay this event. I am serious when I say the wedding, the reception, the weather, the place, the music, the people, the dancing, the singing, the food, everything was absolutely perfect. It was an incredible event and I am quite sure that I am not the only one still glowing from the experience.
Notice that the part where we camped did not make the list of wonderful, perfect things in that last sentence. I mean, it was fine and it was nice to only have to walk 100 feet from the reception to go to bed. But still, it was cold and bumpy and buggy and just not very comfortable, which is something I look for in a sleeping environment. But the magic of all that came before having to sleep on the forest floor trumps any complaint of mosquito bites I might have.
At one point my camera disappeared. I found it later that night only to find this photo of my bootie:
Violet promises she didn’t take it and I believe her only because I’m pretty sure that cute foot on the right is hers.
I feel so lucky to have been a part of this incredibly beautiful and loving event and have no trouble or resistance in retracting previous (camping) concerns.
Remember a while ago when I posted about how the Seal shit a shirt? If not, read it real quick and come back….
::waiting::
Ok, caught up? Well, here is a golden little tidbit that fills in some long time blanks to that story. I have no idea how it came up now, but a few weeks ago Violet and I were reminiscing on all of the beautiful trouble the Seal has caused us and her shitting a shirt came up, of course. And that is when Violet’s confession came without warning or apology: “Oh ya, well she only ate your shirt because it was covered in bacon fat.
me: “Wait. What?”
V: “You mean that A-shirt of yours that she ate?”
me: “Yes, and then shit in the park, in front of all of those people. Yes. Wait. Has she shit other garments of mine that I don’t know about?”
V: “No, no. But didn’t I tell you? I mistook that A-shirt of yours for a rag and used it to clean the iron skillet. So, when I put it in the laundry it must have reeked of delicious bacon. So, of course she ate it.”
Me: (having finally learned, after years now, that picking your battles is key to long term love and so there was no need to question the obvious like, why did she use my shirt to clean a skillet in the first place? Why did she cover anything in bacon fat and then put it in the laundry? These sorts of things, you just let them go unless the moment is right.) “Ok. Well, that makes sense, I guess. As far as the Seal could tell it was a bacon shirt… that she ate and then shit in the park in front of all of those people. I get that. But it wasn’t a rag, love. It was my shirt.”
V: “Well yes, I realize that now.”
And really, it hasn’t happened since, thank god for the Seal’s poor bowels and for all of those visually scarred onlookers that morning, so who cares about one shirt of mine turned bacon-shirt turned shirt-like-dog-poo. And most importantly, as far as I’m concerned, the shit-a-shirt mystery is solved. Case closed.
Violet is gone and the fridge is empty, except for some cheese which thus far is sustaining both the Seal and me. Violet and I were long distance for 15 months and after 8 days of this go I am starting to get pouty (I warned you.)
She called me yesterday. It had been seven days without hearing her voice. And I’m not certain but it just might have been the longest amount of time not hearing her voice since the night we met. I was walking the Seal when the phone rang. I picked it up and said, “Hello?” When I heard this soft, sweet voice say, “Hi J.J.” my knees turned to goo and buckled a little bit. And then the sun swooped down from the sky and into my chest which woke up all of the butterflies in my tummy and had them flying around like crazy right when the road underneath my feet suddenly turned to an endless blanket of marshmallow. I could have walked and talked to her forever. I would walk and talk with her forever, that is the plan. But my sweet girl can be a bit cheap frugal and so the phone card she bought only had 17 minutes. So, for 17 minutes I walked and talked with my favorite flower.
There was this way that she sounded: far. For 15 months she sounded this way and I had forgotten how that felt. I don’t know what it is about calling from a different country, but there is just something in the connection that lets you hear all of the miles in between and it sounds different, it sounds fragile and it sounded so familiar. It sounded like some of the best days I’ve ever had. Violet sounded just like the girl I use to talk to every day on the phone, for hours sometimes, about everything and anything. And sometimes we just did what we had to do, without talking much, just to do things together, like cooking or folding laundry.
I try not to write too much mush here. I know my infinite consuming desire, admiration, adoring and my immeasurably, exponentially expanding potent love and like for all things Violet ring loud enough and clear enough here in other ways. I also know hearing mushy-romantic-wooings about another relationship besides your own is like someone going on and on about how great their dog is… only worse. Fine, cute, good for you, enough already, gross. Which is why I don’t do that either.
So, I’ll keep this one as short as possible, which is never very short if you hadn’t noticed. But the most frequent thing that folks ask me about is this: How in the world were you and Violet long distance for so long? And right now I have no idea. Because on the 8th day of this go I am feeling like a big pouty baby who just wants to sit in the corner scowling with my arms folded. And even if you offer me a beer and cookies I’ll just say, “I don’t want beer and cookies! I want Violet!” And then I will take the beer and cookies and eat and drink them and love them but act like I hate them. There is a “how Violet and I were long distance for so ephing long” post in the works but today, I got nothing, folks.
This entire post is just to update you on the going ons in my life, and by that I mean I just want anyone that is willing to pay attention to me to know that Violet is gone and that means everything is boring and poor me!
That is all.
Well folks, clearly you have time on your hands. Enough time to read the folly happenings of my life and then still, even more time to nominate this little blog for a Lezzy Award over at The Lesbian Lifestyle. So, first off, THANK YOU. Very, really, truly, thank you, thank you. Getting nominated for a Lezzy Award was quite flattering. Finding out that I am a finalist for the “humor” and “personal” categories has me jumping up and down.
I’ll attempt to keep this one short(er than usual), just in case y’all have work to do, it is Monday after all. The point to this entire post is to thank you for taking the time to stop by here, and also for taking the time to nominate this little blog and… oh shoot… hmm, there was one more thing… now, what was it?
Oh, right! VOTE!
Once again, the rules are as follows:
1. You can vote every day! Clearly y’all are fierce voting machines, so, keep it up!
2. I must continue to remain an active lesbian for the duration of the competition. With Violet out of town having lesbian sex is out. So, I will have to improvise my lesbianism. How about this: I promise to watch one episode of the L Word for every five Golden Girls (ugh.) I will also make plans to hang out with other lesbians in lesbian establishments and talk about lesbian stuff (i.e. Old Navy sales, Rachel Maddow, the newest Sugarbutch post, Lilith Fair, etc.) I will also put an Indigo Girls album and an Ani Difranco album on my ipod to offset the abundance of Cher. (If I come up with other ways to be lesbian-like, I will let you know. Feel free to offer suggestions.)
3. Voting closes on March 1st. So, until then, vote!
So! Once again, ladies and gentlemen, and every beautiful representation, possibility, perversion, invention, diversion, rebellion, infusion, expression, combination there of, if you would please, click the pink box to make it happen! (yes indeed, that’s what she said.)
I just got a comment from Lesbian Life Style on my last post informing me that I have been nominated for a Lezzy Award. I am still trying to figure out what this means exactly but in all of the mean time I have been asked to grab this graphic and link it to the award nominations and quite obviously, ask you, my fine flanneled friends, to also nominate me (top 3 blogs with the most nominations in a particular category by the 22nd go to “the final round.” Again, not totally sure what that means…)
I was told that I have been nominated under “humor” and “personal” and am assuming that is because there is no category for “unemployed faggot dyke who has a fish and raccoon as closest friends, with an entire blog about Cher, her dog and her girlfriend, that posts photos of animals balancing random items on their head and chooses to watch Golden Girls reruns on Friday nights while simultaneously tweeting everything Blanche says rather than hanging out with real-life people award.” I’m not saying that shouldn’t be considered as a category in the future but honestly 1. Hi. You lose. I win. and 2. How very, very sad.
So, if you feel so inclined to nominate (vote for) this blog, well, shucks and thank you in advance! (fyi: Thanking someone in advance is a popular sales technique that makes the “customer” feel like they are special and like they have already done something nice, causing them to feel a temporary obligation to do so… do not be fooled by this.)
The rules for this award are that I must remain a lesbian for the duration of this contest and that you can nominate (vote) once every 24 hours. So, if I don’t make you laugh or tell you anything personal or if you suspect that I might be straight- do not vote for me! But, in the spirit of competition, I promise to make out with Violet every day for the duration of the voting period, and, like always, I will continue to share with you the personal, self-deprecating moments that come my way.
Click the pink box to make me rich and famous (that’s what she said):
Last weekend Violet, the Seal and I decided to go on a last minute adventure. We ended up driving north for a few hours to the sweet little town of Bellingham. On our way back we stopped at Larrabee State Park. There was a short wooded trail that led to a small beach. Violet, the Seal and I explored our little desert island of a beach together, walking in the sand, climbing on rocks, looking at little tide pools with sea anemone, starfish, and little crabs. At one point, maybe a few hundred feet away, we watched a blue heron stalk and catch her lunch. She was huge and her graceful ability to dart her beak into the water and come back up with a fish was beautiful and had all three of us awe-struck.
We didn’t know we were going to stop here and I certainly wasn’t wearing the right shoes for it. I had on a pair of very water unfriendly leather loafers and because of that I was trying to be extra careful not to get them wet with salt water (It was really cold and we were walking on rock with bits of coral barnacle or I would have just taken them off.) After a few hours we decided we should get going and began walking back up the beach. Every step I took my foot would sink in a puddle of soggy sand and after several steps my feet were getting quite wet. My mind thought, “I am going UP the beach, AWAY from the ocean, there won’t be any water this next step.” But sure enough, somehow every step I took landed me in water. I became more and more focused on my feet and where I was going to step next but I didn’t want to stop moving because that would make my feet sink even further into the wet sand. Eventually, I started to try and hop quickly, hoping this next time my feet would find dry land. But still, with every step my foot found water.
Finally, Violet said, “jesse, stop! Just stop and look at the big picture here.” And so, quite frustrated and soggy footed, I stopped and took my focused attention off of my two wet feet and looked all around to see where I was in the scheme of things. Because I had only been focusing on my feet and nothing else I hadn’t noticed that I was walking right up the path of a shallow but wide stream of water that was flowing from the hillside into the ocean. Three or four steps to either side was an entire beach of dry sand. So, now that I had seen the whole beach compared to where I was exactly I hopped three times to the right and that was that. Dryland.
I have spent this week more offline than usual, which honestly, isn’t so offline, but more so than usual and hence, a real lack of posting. The weather has been wonderful and in the middle of January this is not something you ignore. So Violet, the Seal and I have been outside taking long morning strolls, the Seal and I have spent some time with the 5 little fish out back, and yesterday we went to the beach where I threw a stick, the Seal ran, jumped in the water, got the stick, brought the stick back to me, where I would then pick up the stick and throw it again. We did this for a long time. It is her favorite game and somehow, watching her run back to me at full speed, like, “Don’t worry, jesse! I haaaaave theeeeee stiiiiiiick!” never gets old and always makes me nearly as excited as she seems to be.
So, to keep on with my offlineness this might well be a record short post from yours truly. Happy Friday to all.
just like jesse james 
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