As the title might suggest, I might be a tad put out to be back.
Now, don't get me wrong. If I could transplant my lovely friends and house to the Northwest, I would. Location, location, location. But as I was driving this morning, I was thinking, "This is not a beautiful area of the country."
And as a result, I have been a mite pissy this evening, so I am hydrating, as surely being dehydrated does not help. And no, I'm not hydrating with alcohol, I am actually hydrating, with water and gatorade.
I got to the airport on Saturday only to discover that when I changed my planet ticket for the trip that wasn't and then changed it back, that the time of my departing flight had changed. And I was using my old itinerary.
Lucky me, the blonde bitch at the airport with the perfect white teeth made me a later ticket with nothing more than a smirk. See, I had been in back of a looooong line, panicking with a woman who later gave me drink coupons for the plane, because we were slightly late. And the blonde woman saw this. So, she was slightly bemused that now I was in fact early.
She was a blonde bitch with perfect teeth, bless her heart.
Those last three words quickly became a joke for us in Seattle. Carol Ann had heard from her niece's mother-in-law, a sweet lady from Texas, that if you add, "Bless his/her heart," to a phrase, you can get away with saying just about anything about anyone.
"She is big as a couch, bless her heart."
"He has a dick the size of a tic tac, bless his heart."
It works particularly well if you say it with a Texas accent (try it, SweetJediMama!).
"That woman just doesn't have an ounce of sense, bless her heart."
All is well, all is forgiven, the terrible thing you just said isn't really so terrible, because you're adding "bless her heart" like you like her anyway.
Interlude
Liza just came over, which I sorely needed to jolly me out of my foul mood. Then our neighbors came over so we could discuss our New Neighborhood Drama: the Religious Neighbors (hard to explain their beliefs really, have to try sometime later) across the street are selling their house to... a fraternity. So, we are discussing the various ways in which we can block this action, including batting around the idea of buying it ourselves and renting it to married students with families.
"Those weird, religous people across the street from us are fucking insane, bless their hearts."
It is a large house (six bedrooms, three baths) with two and a half lots (asking price, for those of you who don't live in the armpit of America: $129,000). We have a lawyer in the neighborhood, so we are fairly confident that we will win-- all we have to do is convince city council NOT to change the zoning of the neighborhood. Maintain status quo. The President of our premier liberal arts college also lives in the neighborhood, which can't hurt.
Back to the Airport
Well, the airports were airports, the flights were flights, I read, slept, etc., and eventually made it to St. Louis at 11:00 p.m.
The plan had been to scour the decadence of East St. Louis, but everyone was fairly wiped out (I later learned that Dereck was wiped out from making me a While You Were Out Room! He painted and stenciled our television room and it's now our jungle room, half black, half gold, and it's hard to describe here how crisp and clean and gorgeous it looks! I just stood and gaped at it, my mouth opening and closing like a fish). So, we had drinks, hit the hay (the AC went off though, and so we tossed and turned a bit in the heat) and the next morning, Karl and Angela made us a fantastico breakfast of cinnamon rolls, coffee, eggs, bacon (grapefruit juice and vodka for those less concerned with hydration than I).
Then, we headed down to the Gay Pride parade, and we will have pictures posted SOON. That was great fun, as those things are, and it was not too too hot. I wore my gilligan hat. Afterwards, we found margaritas, and Dereck, Karl, Beth and I got our Tarot readings done. The woman who read for me, then Karl, then Dereck was the best we'd ever had. She really nailed each of us. Impressive. Beth was pretty excited about hers too, and I know what hers said, but out of respect for her comments on her blog, I will not repeat it.
Then, we were on a mission to go see Farenheit 911 (and Dereck and I were planning to leave for home at some point, too). We actually got into the show, and helped support it opening weekend. We ate snacks/lunch in the movie theater dark. It is not a popcorn chowing kind of movie (though we started out eating it). There were moments when I felt the appropriate response would have been to sob, but I didn't, I sat there and reigned myself in, but after the movie, we all felt pretty subdued and wiped out.
We went out for very yummy Indian food with Angela and Karl, and I was so tired. I said, "I wish we could just drive home tomorrow." And so we decided to do that.
So, we went to Angela's and I laid on the floor with a toss pillow and we watched Six Feet Under and then My So-Called Life. We hadn't really gotten to spend any amount of time with Angela before, and I liked her more and more and more as the day progressed.
Speaking of liking people, I forgot to tell you that I met Pie in Seattle!!! She and her husband drove 45 minutes to meet me (at Starbucks! Where else?). I felt like I had known them forever, like we had always hung out, and that if we lived near each other, we would hang out. I just liked them immediately, and was sorry to see the evening end. Pie and Rob just sparred off of each other, and Rob is one of those guys who is not shy but joins the conversation, tells interesting stories (in a great British accent) and loves Pie dearly, and she banters with him-- it was fun to watch. How lovely to find out that bloggers are just as cool in real life as they are on their blogs, as I discovered first with Michelle de Seattle, and then Pie. I wonder if they liked me...
Anyway, I think I've really covered the high points. And I know I should link to all the blogs/bloggers I've mentioned here, but I'm feeling a little, wee, tiny bit lazy right now, so I'll go back and do it later.
Bless my heart.
I am writing for myself and strangers. This is the only way that I can do it... Gertrude Stein
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