I thought Robin Andrea put that quite appropriately in a comment a while back- it’s so true. And today is the day I go get smashed (whoa! I just flashed on the trash compactor story! Maybe that’s part of my intense dislike of said appliance.) It’s not yet 6 am here and I woke up when Rich left at 5 am to
visit his other family go consult with A-B in St. Louis for the next couple of days. It’s too late, or early, to consider any kind of sleep aid (that last swig of Prosecco going flat in the frig, for example) so I’ll just launch into the topic of gay men to fill the time between now and when I CATCH A TAXI BECAUSE I SURE AS HELL AM NOT DRIVING INTO THE LOOP,PARKING IN A STRUCTURE, GETTING LOST AND GETTING SMASHED all in one morning. It’s important to choose your battles.
So here’s the thing: I put up my post about the wine class at the culinary institute (more on Napa soon; the visuals are out of this world) and initially, there I wrote a line that read something like, "who do you think is taking this more seriously, me or the two gay guys next to me?" Clearly, I was. You can tell by the wrinkled brow and prominent dewlap. But that’s beside the point. Within moments I got all in an internal tangle about putting "two gay guys" in my post. I thought, great, Vicki, now EVERYBODY thinks you "have a view" on this issue. It’s sort of like saying, "some of my best friends are…" You fill in the blanks: gay men, workaholics, tipplers in the wee hours, jello wrestlers. Right- well, it’s true- they are. I guess, more to the point is do they wish to be defined as such? Why do I feel compelled to define them in any fashion? Are they defined by their gayness? Their BIG LOVE of work? Their lime gelatinous phosphorescence and men’s boxers?
No, they are not. These are people I love. So, why do I sound like a stereotyping numb skull when I put that in a post? Why do I instantly worry that everyone judges me, thinks me narrow minded and dated, wipes me from their blogroll and loudly proclaims that their very favorite blogger is someone else? So, I go in and change it to "the two guys sitting next to me."
Except, my three remaining readers, those two guys were so flaming it wasn’t even funny. Well, it WAS funny. They sat down, instantly drank all of every varietal in front of them (put there for mixing purposes, via pipette only) and while completely sloshed, discussed their sideways misadventures through the Napa and Sonoma valleys in a fashion that had me snorting wine out my nose…what can I say?
Meanwhile, the Divine if Somewhat Scattered Miz Silverthorn gets away with a post on The Brokeback Boys and everyone thinks it’s hilarious. Even Mrs. Babette, born and bred in the Misery Synod (NOT an open and affirming affiliation of Christians) makes clever little comments that include the words, "gay, butt, queer." She’s cheeky, she is. And Wende comes aboard and announces that she loves Mary (not THAT Mary. Or the other biblical one, either. Rather, that sassy but scattered skinny- limbed redhead, Miz Silverthorn, above all others.
Am I bitter? No. Just up too early, in anxious anticipation of a trip to the "Somebody,Somebody Fancy Breast Care Center." I can’t remember the name. I know it’s not "Brokebreast Mountains or Molehills." It will come to me. Named after the big donor of compacting machines.
I just want to go on record as saying the person I would most like by my side at the moment, since Rich is not an option, is Laaawwrry from St. Petersburg, aka GiGi (gay gardener) who would be gently petting me, cooing "daaaaling" and "dare heart" and saying, "listen love, thas as nothin’ ta worry aabout. It’s jas a few lumps. Them doctors need to pay for them big ass caahs somehow…" Either Laawryy or my yoga teacher, upon whom I have a crush. Think of me what you will.
Those Takins. (Budorcas taxicolor) Source of Jason’s Golden Fleece. The National Animal of Bhutan, as in, Where in the World is Bhutan? It’s one of the top three places I want to visit in this lumpy lifetime. Takins are a vulnerable species and at the Lincoln Park Zoo they are included among the animals in the Species Survival Plan. So, it is a wonderful thing that we have two new babies this year, one born moments after Rich and I visited a week ago. I saw the mother pacing nervously in that ponderous, I-can-barely-stand-up-I-dont-want-to-lie-down way that brought on sympathy pains, lo these many years later. I said to Rich, "it’s any time now" and sure enough, she gave birth within a half hour. Is this new little girl cute or what? At one week of age, she spends most all of her time divided between sleep and scaling her mother, aunt, father and cousin as though they are the foothills of the Himalayas. Related to the musk ox, she’ll be odoriferous soon enough. Incidentally, yesterday I passed the "predator/prey" test which includes all of the big cats and hoofstock, aka ungulates. Do you know who is Artiodactyl and who is Perissodactyl and how one of them could possibly be related to Cetacea (whales)? Taxonomy is complicated and evolving. Heh. I also gave the "operant conditioning" public talk in the African Ape center but there were so many unruly primates around that nobody much cared about Ulysses and his ability to respond to sign language so he can get his teeth brushed. Ah well, moving right along. Next week it’s African mammals, birds and fish, including those comics, the Meercats.)