Eighty Times Around The Sun

Rock On!

It was perfect! All those hours of watching Queer Eye paid off in spades! (Don't forget flowers!)

Okay. So maybe not flawless. I forgot to get beer, and we ran out of ice. But other than that...

•They loved my food! Passing around the plates of rumaki (an evil concoction of chicken liver wrapped in bacon and smothered in barbeque sauce) was like tossing fish to seals! Snap snap snap! Ditto the shrimp cocktail and the pigs in blanket! I was a huge hit with the old people. At one point, discussion turned to Mother's Day, which would be today, and I realized why. The old ladies were all laughing about how maybe they'll get a card. Or a phone call. Or whatever. Alas, they should have birthed gay sons. Cuz we know all about how to do a Thing.

•Lucky for me, there was enough infirmity on the guest list that the size of the crowd was manageable. We didn't run out of anything, and there were enough chairs to go around. And the weather more than cooperated, serving up a wonderful warm but not hot Spring day. So we all crowded onto the porch.

•I took the bright orange gerbera daisies I got, cut their little heads off ("You look like Morticia Addams!" observed the Baron von Philadelphia), and floated them in clear glass bowls, adding some may apple tops I gathered in the back forty.

•The surprise visit from my brother and his wife went great. They called him on their cell phone from the driveway, and were going on about 'toweling off after a dip in the pool' as they walked in the room. My father continued talking on the phone for a full fourteen seconds before he realized that they weren't apparititions, but there in the flesh.

•Slowly, slowly my father caught on, first I went and picked up the Baron at the train station in Doylestown, then my brother and sister-in-law show up, and then, at four o'clock, car load by car load, the front porch filled up with old people. Everyone was commenting about how it's been years and years and years since they were all together. Everybody had a great time, but my father was absolutely bowled over.

•The Baron and sister-in-law rose to the occasion, and were incredibly helpful. I have almost no work to do cleaning up today. The whole day went so smooth. I am grateful.

And here's the kicker... My father was grateful! And demonstrative! He's thanked me several times! I am not without my flaws, but heck, I sure have my good points.

And I had a realization yesterday, too.

This is my life.

I've been looking at this as taking a break from my life. Like when you pull off the interstate on your way to somewhere to grab a latte at one of those blessed rest stops that feature a Starbucks.

But that's not it.

I've got my eyes open. I'm growing as a person, as they used to say in those movies-made-for-television back in the fabled 1970s.

I have learned, for instance, that sometimes, you do without. Sometimes, even though you want something really bad, you just can't afford it, of make it happen for logistical reasons right now. And you get by without it.

I have learned, furthermore, that it's never about him, or her, or them. It's just about you. You can't look to other people to get your needs met. Because it's not about them. If you're not getting your needs met, getting the affirmation you need, or the solace, or the consideration, or the tender loving care, then it's never his, her, or their fault. It's up to you to figure out how to make that happen. Or else it doesn't happen at all. When he, she, or they step up to the plate and do offer some of that, well then that's gravy. And be really grateful for it. But don't come to rely on it. Because ultimately, you are not, in fact, the reason that God put him, her, or them on the planet. Back in the days of the seven-and-a-half year relationship, it was always his fault when I felt shitty or lonely or sad or angry or whatever. Nope. Wrong-o. It's never about him, or her, or them.

I have learned, perhaps, to play the hand I'm dealt. Not to be thinking in terms of, "I know! I'll go to grad school and learn to be a radiologisit! And then I can have all the things I want and everything will be perfect and I'll be happy all the time!" This is where I live. This is my job. This is the car I drive. This is my dog. This is what I do with my weekends. "Dese," as Mr. Durante observed, "is da circumstances what prevails." This is the big clap pot of red lentils I have been served, and it may or may not contain a few rubies of joy. "Find your bliss" is not a call to sling your bag over your shoulder and head off on the open road. Finding your bliss means looking at the things right in front of you, the tattered stuff picked up at the rag and bone shop sitting there in your lap.

Anyway. Today is another beautiful day here in Bucks County. I'm sitting on the porch, goosebumps raised by the sweet, cool Spring breeze. Faithful Companion alert to bugs and birds and squirrels. Waiting for this skinhead boy from Philadelphia to show up to help me clear out the garage. I plan on exploiting his strong back to tackle the filing cabinet, the refrigerator, and the table saw.

Tomorrow, the wheel of the work week starts to spin again. And next weekend, I'll be in NYC for the New York City Tattoo Convention. And softball with the Ballbreakers. (Akshully, I won't be attending the tattoo convention. Can't afford it. But I will be making the social at the Eagle hosted by Gay Men Into Extreme Tattooing or whatever the unwieldy name is of that group I belong to.) And Saturday night, I'm heading to a motel room in Connecticut because this kind man has offered to show me how to do a sleeper hold. (Sounds risky? Hope so!)

And, y'know, hopefully staying awake.

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