The Final Day

Today is our last full day at Bear Week 2010 in Provincetown.

• We've seen far more of these than last year: Lesbians, children, strollers, tour/bus groups, hot straight men with their girlfriends.
  
• We attend the Tea Dance at the Boat Slip each afternoon from 4-7pm. It's been unbelievably crowded....thousands each afternoon.
• Did you know that a leaf blower can actually be used on stage in a production in a person's mouth?
• I was called a sexy Metrosexual yesterday.
  
• We saw the Varla Jean Merman show last night -- a staple here in P-Town. Excellent!
• Walking through narrow city streets in the midst of thousands of people in a group is difficult. You really have to adopt a "No Rules" sort of plan -- where anybody can do anything at any time. No rules. No hard feelings. No biggie.
  
• We typically drink about 50% of our annual alcohol consumption during these seven days. I actually think we've been a little better this year.
• I'm amazed at the dollar amount spent on a single cocktail or on a single restaurant entree. It's not for the financially weak of heart.
  
• Most of the shops are staffed by foreign workers -- I remember last year they told me they were from South Africa and Eastern Europe. Many struggle with their English. They also work more than one job per day....some even three jobs. They are here from May-November.
• My neck is nearly broken from trying to spin it in multiple directions at any given time....there's just so much to see....if you know what I mean. (Umm.....Bradley from Texas.......that's all I have to say....).
  
• We've met all sorts of people from Boston, Vermont, New York City, England, the Midwest, Washington DC...and the list goes on. (Those damn British failed to pay back my husband for the added cost of the one meal they had with us.......).
• Daddy had a shave in the Bear Barber Shop by a hot guy. You should have seen the hot men lined up for shaves -- GGrrrrrr.......
• Dessert is my friend.
  
• I have stopped more times than I can count to say hi to the hundreds of pooches in the streets. I've had two of them on their backs with all fours in the air....the dogs...the DOGS!
• My tee-shirt fetish has been properly embellished this week.
  
• My Husband has received far more attention from the attractions of others than I have this week.
  

Just Another Day in Provincetown

Bear Week 2010 in Provincetown is shaping up quite nicely. How do a town of several thousand drenched bears running for cover sound? Oh boy. You should have seen us after we ran, ran, ran through town in the pouring rain. We were as wet as if you'd run us through the washing machine today. And tonight, it has cleared up beautifully -- we sat on the front porch at the Gifford House for an evening nightcap. A perfectly good period on a nice day. We had lunch with our friends Mike and Rob from Albany and sat at Tea Dance in the pouring rain, unable to move. Tonight lots of good food with eight of us......our friends Alex and Jason arrived today from the Pacific Northwest.

And not to be outdone, we've rubbed.....a, er....noses.....shoulders really.....with two porn stars: Jake Deckard and Johnny Hazzard. Yep. Jonny stood right by us during the rain storm with his umbrella....and minus his nice little white pit bull pup that he's been in town with this week. I asked him where the pooch was. And then Jake and I chatted with another dude about pink cupcakes and washing them down with Red Bull. Let's just say that they are only two of thousands.....seriously, thousands....of hot men in this town. My head is spinning like an owl.

We're having a great time. There's no doubt about that.

Barbie Q

Provincetown is no stranger to drag queens. They abound here. We were at The Monkey Bar yesterday afternoon when Barbie Q strolls in. The sweat dripping off her brow. The hair askew. We are lined up at the bar -- drinking a creamy, milkshake and liquor concoction called a Mudslide -- when she walks in, the door closing loudly on the warm, humid afternoon behind her. She drags her yards of black dress material onto the bar stool and announces that "I've just had my dress ran over by a guy in a Hummer...he must have a short dick." Of course, we turn our heads. She announces within the next 90 seconds that she's had a hellish day. Lost her boyfriend at 4am that morning and another boyfriend at 5am. Her right fake breast is exposed, twisted and loose since she put it in earlier in the day. I try to help her with the expose'. She remarks, "Oh hell," as she yanks that bad boy out and slaps the titty on the bar....nipple side up. Giggles and laughs ensue as iPhone cameras photograph the evidence. We buy her Jack Daniels and Sprite. She gets her legs up on a second bar stool and pulls up the dress -- "I need to air myself out...it's hot outside today." She tells me to look for her later that day at The Boat Slip Tea Dance. I'll be the guy in the tight jeans. I never did see her again. I looked.

Engines are Started.....

Teeth are in the middle of being bleached, the nails have been groomed, bags are packed, laundry is nearly done, bedding is almost done, groceries purchased, MIL all set in her abode, the dog is headed to Aunt Melanie's tonight, I have robbed enough banks for cash to fill a suitcase, and the leather vest we purchased in Chicago awhile back is jammed into an overly packed suitcase. Tomorrow we leave Portland and fly nonstop to Boston. We're staying in a very nice hotel on the Boston waterfront. And honey and I are going to head straight out and enjoy a few of Boston's Freedom Trail sites before having an Italian dinner in the North End.

Saturday morning we take the ferry from Boston to Provincetown....way out at the very tip of Cape Cod. It's quite the place. This coming week is one of the world's premiere Bear events in the world. it will be filled with thousands of handsome, hairy, muscly men from the East Coast and, in fact, around the world. We're joining several friends in an old house for the week -- it's a low-key, no drama week filled with getting up leisurely, having coffee, coming and going to a huge variety of activities, and meeting lots of new friends. There will be hikes to take, sites to see, and a bit of shopping. Each afternoon at 4pm will find us on the waterfront deck of The Boat Slip for Tea Dance. I'm guessing that there are a thousand or more people at the Tea Dance each afternoon.

So, that's it. Blogging will be minimal. Facebook will be active. Stay cool and have yourselves a great warm summer week.

After the Holiday Weekend

• I was confused for Neil Patrick Harris a few days back. By an older sort of gentleman. He was so kind to me as he passed me and did a double-take. "Are you Neil Patrick Harris, I must ask....?" I laughed. And then said thank you and offered my autograph. He remained rather flirtatious. I played along.
• We depart on Friday morning for Boston and then on Saturday morning from Boston to Provincetown for Bear Week 2010! We're going to do a whirlwind Boston tour Friday evening.
  
• My head cold has moved into my chest -- I feel pretty good but have this horrible cough.
  
• I've been working like the devil. Tomorrow is day 6 in a row after only one day off just prior to the 6 on. But then I'm off until July 19th!
• Mason has been under the weather -- he peed the bed (I think) about five nights back. He's been trying to chase his hindquarters as if he's irritated and something's back there. He is nervous, pacing and unsettled. The vet checked him over and isn't quite sure. They gave him an antibiotic shot in case it was a bladder or urinary tract infection. And they expressed his anal glans. If you're not familiar with this precious procedure, I hope you'll enjoy this video. Apparently, even I can perform this little act at home. Just before dinner or drinks, for added enjoyment. He's feeling a bit better.
  
• We are thankful for all of those in our lives who help us out -- from our friends and neighbors who check on Mason while we're away to those who text us, phone us, email us and work and live with us. We appreciate our friends and how much good they bring to our lives.
  

Today's the Day.

Let's see here, I'll try to put this as gently as possible -- Is it wrong of me, or improper or unpatriotic perhaps, for me to say that while I love my country I don't like many of the people in it? Tsk tsk, I hear you say. "How could he be so unpatriotic." "Liberal. Rebel." Whatever. Perhaps. It doesn't matter to me. But the truth remains. That I love where I live. The country, the city, the state. But there are times, many times as the years roll by, that I don't like large chunks of people in my country. I don't like those who hate. Those who inflict pain. Those who ruin our nation. Those who dump their trash out of car windows. Those who thump a Bible and look at me with a glare in their eyes and a feeling of sin in their heart. I don't like mini vans full of kids pulling into overgrown evangelical churches while mommy bleaches her hair with a Clairol bottle and daddy does the church secretary after work on Wednesdays. It has nothing to do with an old fashioned patriotic march or popular, catchy country music tune with fancy words in it. The red, white and blue bumper stickers with political phrases will disappear one day. And the use of the word "Pride" may actually mean something sometime. I could go on and on. And each of us has our own list.

There are long lists of "things" that people have tried to tie to being a part of the good ol' US of A. Some may be partially true. Others are so far off that it's not even funny. We think we have the market cornered on many things. And we do, in many ways. But we're seriously defunct in others. I think a good dose of humility does a body, a country, good. And, no, this is no slam fest. I love this land. Period. It's just some of the people that I don't get. And I suppose that's the truth everywhere, for that matter. So, today I celebrate. Our nation. It's rich history of immigration and hard work. Its multicultural origination. Its mixed up people. Where it has come from. But let's leave off the parts of it that we've created ourselves. The false ideas. The suspect opinions -- those tossed about as if they are the truth. Let's set those aside and enjoy the simplicity of our country. Today and every day.

Fresh Beginnings

July 1. Canada day. A new month. And a new blog template and colors. Wild, eh? I've had the same blog template since its beginning in October 2006. And everyone needs a little freshening up from time to time....right?

I've just returned from a Boston layover. My one day off before a six-day stretch of Austin, Phoenix, and several trips to Las Vegas. After that? Bear Week 2010 in Provincetown! Here's last year's memories from P-Town. We're staying in the same house as last year....it's the prior home of the guy who would help turn around the trains at the end of the rail line in Provincetown. If you don't know it already, Provincetown is at the very far end of Cape Cod....protruding out into the Atlantic Ocean. And don't tell the folks over in Plymouth (remember Plymouth Rock where the Pilgrims were supposed to have landed first?). But actually Provincetown was the first stop after their journey across the ocean. Shh. You'll screw up history if anybody finds out. We are with a few new friends this year, and minus a few old ones from last year. Change is good.

Once we return from P-Town, Portland's free Summer Concerts in the Parks will be in full swing. We have been going to these for more than ten years now. They run on most nights of the week in a wide variety of parks across the city. We take a picnic, the pooch, and our sand chairs and enjoy. It has become a powerful memory of our years together and reminds us of how much we really dig this city we live in. If you're in the area, you should join us.

I see that Google has become another of the growing number of companies helping to cover the "Imputed Income" that domestic partner's are required to pay for their same-sex health insurance coverages. In case you didn't know it already, I have my domestic partner listed on my health insurance. And he has me listed on his. But since we are not married (and not permitted to be married in the state of Oregon) it means that my employer is required to tack on "Imputed Income" to our taxable income each year. It amounts to about $3,500 for each of us that shows up under additional income. Then we pay taxes on that additional amount. Those of you who are married do not. Unfair. Yes. Thankfully, Google is yet one more company that is helping cover that additional financial burden on its employees. Remember, it's the home of the free and land of the brave.....where we have liberty and justice for some.

Summer time has been slow in coming here. We had one of the rainiest Mays on record. And the wettest June ever. We have had one day reaching 80 so far. The rest have hovered in the 60s and 70s. Personally, neither of us mind it. We're not prone to the throws of depression or that sort of thing when the grey and clouds hang around forever. But, come on, toss us a little bone here. Just a little sumthin'.

I have a growing collection of hats. A few of the baseball variety. But even a few more of the variety that you'll see in this picture. Of course the red one is from Portland's Red Dress Party and I've simply added the others to the collection over the last few months. I sort of like them.

I Want to Be Home

Why is it that the more I travel -- which is quite often -- the more I want to be home.

I'm not on a "I don't like my job" kick or anything like that. That simply wouldn't be the truth. But I find myself more often than not desirous of being home. With LoverBoy and Pooch. Turner and Hooch. Whatever. Just at home. I see things as I travel, I enjoy amazing views and restaurants and people and experiences. And it all just makes me want to be home more. Or, perhaps, to have LoverBoy with me when I experience them. It sort of feels a bit empty without your one-and-only to share them with you. Hollow.

Today I'm in one of the world's finest cities. Boston. And it goes without saying that some of the world's hunkiest men are here. Irish and Catholic and studly and sports-minded and rugged and tough and bearded. Shall I continue? So, recenter on Boston.....focus. The harbor here is stunning. New England. Nothing to the East except for the Atlantic Ocean. Lots of boats and ships and ferries plying the waterways. I sit outside, a warm summer day, and enjoy lunch with the locals. I love experiences like this one. I savor them and think of them often. I like the blue sky today, the easy breeze. But it feels like I'm wasting my time. Like I'm alone. Like I would like to share this piece of my life with someone. But, alas, he's home in Portland today and about to jet northward to Anchorage tonight. The mileage difference between Boston and Anchorage is 3328 statute miles, 4714 kilometers. That's just too far.

I've been around the world. 30-some-odd countries. Nearly all 50 states. Over and over. Maybe 20 trips to Europe. Asia. Up and down the West Coast of the US more than I care to chat about. I've seen things that others never will. And I'm thankful for all of those memories. And another funny thing is that I actually do enjoy being alone. A lot. In fact, sometimes I crave alone time as much as together time. But today, like many days as I age, I want to be in my perfectly-sized 876 square foot condominium. With LoverBoy, Pooch, laptop, nice kitchen, comfortable patio, clean sheets on the bed, homemade iced tea in the refrigerator, and safe. Quiet. No nonsense. That's what I seem to be craving more and more.

To the Point

• The new iPhone 4 is slick. Nice and fast, no dropped calls, pretty and shiny. Stood in no lines, loved it from the moment I laid eyes on it.
• Spent yesterday at one of our clothing-optional beaches with a bunch of buddies -- and hundreds of other Portlanders dying....DYING....for a little sunshine. I'm toasted and crispy on one side.
  
• Tomorrow takes me out East to Boston for a layover. Who is in Bean Town tomorrow??
  
• We're getting ready for our annual pilgrimage to Bear Week in Provincetown It is one week from Friday. I can't believe it's here already! Grrrrr...... Here is last year's extravaganza.
  
• We always go to as many of Portland's free summer concerts in the parks as possible -- if you're in the area, go with us.
• The washing machine just finished its cycle with a lovely little tune. It always does. I have to go and transfer clothes into the dryer now.
  
• That is all.

The Longest Day

The longest day of the year is today -- at least here in the north. Solstice. What a nice reflection to consider that the the very thing that warms us is around the longest today. Well, the very thing that is supposed to be warming us, perhaps I should say. It's been the wettest June on record -- after a very wet May. No worries. It doesn't matter to me, really. Except that I would love some time on the beach.

This past weekend was Portland Pride. I'm exhausted -- in fact, I'm sick. Totally congested and feeling like an 18-wheeler hit me. For the very first time, my company sponsored a float in the Portland Pride parade and then a booth at the festival as well. Really exciting stuff! I'm very proud of the work group I spend much of my life with. We are also one of HRC's Best Companies to Work For. I was really busy talking with people, handing out free stuff, marching up the streets of downtown Portland, even seeing passengers that have been on previous flights with me! We even had two of our vice presidents attend and help us out!

My iPhone 4 order was tediously placed last week -- on the 16th (since the servers were totally whacked out on the 15th). So, it's "In Process" and not yet "Shipped." I'm waiting. Wondering. Wishing and hoping. I'm afraid that the 24th will pass me by. But, then again, it's only a phone. I need to keep on saying that.

We met Molly yesterday. And our hearts were totally stirred up. She looks strikingly like Mason. Molly and Mason. It has a nice ring to it. Except that Molly has not been taken care of. She is 8 years old, lived outside her whole life, is not potty trained, and has been under the supervision of dog breeder in southern Oregon who didn't take care of her (is it wrong to murder people?) She has a heart murmur and no teeth (which makes her tongue stick out of her mouth). We just can't do it...and, believe me, we have talked about it. But she's a doll. I think we may sponsor her "online." I think that Mason would be a very good younger brother for Molly.

The Strangeness That Is My People

We're an unusual group of people. Seriously, we are...and you know it. Specifically, at this particular blip of time, I'm referring kindly to my own kind. My own profession. We're odd. That can't be denied. Not odd as in strange. Well, now that I'm thinking about it, maybe I do mean strange. Yeah, I do. A little strange. I've been in this profession for 15 years. An Air Hostess. Trolley dolly. Stewardess. Stewardette (yep, I've been called that). Air Mattress. Steward. Flight Attendant. A nearly-all kind group of people. And some of the world's greatest friends. But strange. Odd. Weird. And I'm not sure what it is.

With any profession or group of people, there are typically common bonds that tie them together. They were all hired with certain skill sets or abilities. They possess particular traits or perhaps their personalities fit in well with the job which they are doing. Flight attendants are required to be prompt, never late...it's not tolerated. They are supposed to look good and take care of themselves. They are required to go through a horribly intensive five-week training school -- studying every single night, written tests nearly every day, tons of practical drills like fire fighting, emergency evacuations, and safety skills. They need to know how to problem solve, to calm, to bring tense situations to an even playing field. And, occasionally, they need to slap the you-know-what outta some total dweeb. But beyond all of the written, company-required job skills, there appears to be an unwritten, perhaps unknown or little understood, set of behaviors that creep among our type.

We chat. We love to chat and, more accurately, blather. Blather on and on, many times about nothing. You ask a simple question and you're there for, oh say, a day and a half or so getting the Wikipedia answer when all you really needed to know was what gate we were arriving at. Or maybe I feel obligated to ask about someone's husband or wife and I get the whole nine yards including the latest in therapy sessions and family drivel.

Many of we stews are on drugs. Not the good stuff. The stuff to calm us down. Pacify us. Make us able to get through the day. Happy pills. And we love our alcohol too. Numerous of my friends drink heavily. A few uncontrolled. Most just plenty. We go to therapists. We have far too numerous physical aches and pains to outline here -- many caused by our required lifting of overly heavy passenger bags, and all of the lifting, bending, stretching and twisting that goes along with 200-pound beverage carts. We go to acupuncturists. We go to psychiatrists. We go to the pharmacy regularly. We like our druggists.

We like attention because many of us don't get it elsewhere. We're a gaggle of misfits, many divorced or in unhealthy relationships. We're not at home enough for some. We're home far too much for others. Many mothers and fathers use their layover time to chill....."Me" time.... to get away from the kids and partners back at home. And some of us, just an extreme few thankfully, like to exert their ill-placed need to use authority at times -- "I told you to put that seatbelt down low and tight near your private parts!" or "If I have to ask you one more time to turn off that brand new iPhone 4, I'm a gunna shove it up to just about your hairy nipple line!" That sort of thing. And in spite of having a six-inch-thick company approved way of doing things, we are widely known for having an even better way to do it. Just ask us, we'll show you. We have little hangups like which side of the cart we have to have the juice cartons on, where the little stir sticks should be placed (I've got just the place, believe me....), or the need for placing those little pretzel snacks in the drawer with precise latitude and longitude markers aligned with GPS precision. We aren't well, I'm telling you.

Just this morning, I was on a crowded employee bus going from the employee parking lot to the airport terminal. We do it every day. We know each other. We do it over and over and over -- many of us for years now. For me, my day typically puts me on that bus between 4:30am-5:30am. It's early. It's dark much of the year. And most of the bus is eerily quiet. Except for the flight attendants. They banter back and forth. Loudly. While the make up is applied, or the bags are being dug through, or they try and decide if the new uniform is going to make their arse look big, or which restaurant they'll be going to that night in Puerto Vallarta. And people stare at them. Including me. I like that time for myself, for peace and quiet before what is always a busy day. But, honestly, it's like you put in a nickle and get back a quarter's worth. So, yeah, back to this morning -- I looked at the gal sitting next to me and remarked "Gawd, can't you just feel the oxygen being depleted in this bus." She concurred. How could she not?

But in spite of our weirdness, we're one hell of a fun-loving group. We like to have fun, party, eat dinner or happy hour together, and take walks together. Many of us include our co-workers in our list of good friends, including me. We text each other, see each other outside work, and do our best to take care of one another when necessary. And we even travel together on our days off. I'm not sure precisely what it is that lends us to being a bit of an odd group. Whatever it is, I think I'll gladly be a part of it for quite some time. Until the blue polyester pales, the shoes are worn from being on my feet all day, and the shiny wings on my uniform are tarnished. It's a good group of folks....in spite of their strangeness.

Mixed Emotions

I left the dusty, dry southern Idaho capital city of Boise on January 1, 1998. I was born in Boise, at St. Luke's Hospital, in 1962. I knew it well. I worked at what was then Boise Cascade Corporation in their corporate Human Resources Department for 13 years. I started when I graduated from high school. I knew a lot of folks. I knew every restaurant in town. I lived their before Boise ever had a mall to shop at. We had an acre of land with a $13,000 house on it. We didn't have too much but we had enough. It was in Boise that I went to First Presbyterian Church as a child and then migrated to Boise Valley Christian Communion as a teenager. After a few years there, I moved on to Central Assembly Christian Life Center -- yes, it is that sort of church. Southern Idaho is filled with all sorts of people -- some that you can picture in your head, others that you perhaps only have stereotypes about. Basques. Mormons. Farmers. Ranchers. Horse and cattle acreages. Outdoor recreational enthusiasts. Bikers. Mostly conservative. Nearly all white. Plenty of pickup trucks. And, now, equally as many Lexus, Acura and Cadillacs. They like tradition. They like family. And values. And, now, they even have a mall. Traffic is horrible. No one carpools. There is no decent, widely used city transit system. People enjoy driving with one person in each car. Although it has changed somewhat now, they are not the sort of folks that trend toward brightly colored hair, piercings, ink on the skin, or mohawks. You'll get stared at if you do. Oh, and now they have Wal Mart. And Starbucks. And gays.

I used to get teary-eyed when I would return. I missed it. I'd never lived anywhere else. All of my family and friends were there. My church buddies still roamed the pews, my dad is buried there, and I still knew my way around. I was married and lived there for seven very long years. And that's where I came out. And now, I'm in Portland. Happy. Healthy. And don't get teary as much when I go back. In fact, I sort of like leaving Idaho now. It just doesn't feel like I fit there any longer. I mean, there are a few isolated businesses and coffee shops that welcome my type. But I still feel sort of like I have a 50-pound bag of concrete tied to my ankle in the sea of "W-04" and "One Man One Woman" bumper stickers. Well, and the "Power of Pride" waving everywhere as well. It feels sterile. White. Lacking much depth, it leans toward shallow in my mind. Oh, they really dig their sports teams and such. But where do I fit in? I even think it's funny when I hear comments like "Oh, they are a Mormon family....." or "That's an LDS church over there." And you hear those sentiments frequently. (And in case you didn't know, LDS stands for Latter Day Saints ..... the Mormons.)

We talked about it on our drive back home the other day. How much longer it would be before we could possibly get my sister moved out of there and over to be near us in Portland. And what would happen once my mother, god forbid, passes away. Would we still make our journeys back to Boise? Would we need to? In all seriousness, the only reason we go any longer is just to see my Mom, sister, and niece. There's not much else there. I guess that's why I'm not there any longer. Because there's just not much there....on many levels.

Momma Turns 80 -- Still Setting a Fine Example

I can't believe that my mother is 80...today. I think part of it is the reminder that I am not as young as I used to be. I'm happy about that. I think. So, here's a repeat of two years ago....when we were here for my Mom's 78th birthday. We're having a dinner tonight and a small party tomorrow. I will always have something to aspire to. She has set an example that I will be working on daily.

What do you say about a woman who has had just about as many things thrown at her in her life as anyone could imagine? About a woman who devoted her entire being to raising her family as well as she knew how. About her commitment to getting up early, staying up late, and not napping in between. About a woman who planted the garden, weeded it, and rescued its crops to be used on the table. About a woman who grew up during the Great Depression and took baths in a galvanized tub in the kitchen. About a woman who had only one dress while growing up? About a woman who took her lunch down the street to eat away from other children because she was embarrassed about what she had to eat. About a woman who was beaten? About a woman who was made to watch her then-current husband rape a young girl in front of her? About a woman who was hatefully not permitted to go get emergency care when her appendix burst. About a woman who layed away nights wondering about her children, sister, and others who suffered from alcoholism, depression, and drug use. About a woman who spent years caring for her own mother. About a woman who cared for her husband during his illness with Lou Gehrig's Disease. About a woman who stood tall, held her head high, and told one of her best friends that their long-term friendship was over because the (now former) friend didn't believe in the woman's son's gay lifestyle. About a woman who has the most positive attitude of anyone I've personally ever known. About a woman who does not hate....does not speak ill of others....does not have bad days or bad attitudes. Well, I'll tell you what I'll say about her. I'd say that I want to be like her. I want her attitude, her spirit, and her energy. I want her devotion to good causes, her strength when things are tough, and her ability to carry on in the worst of times. All with a smile on her face. And I must admit that I've even considered the horrible day in the future when I'll lose my mom -- it's a day that I'm not sure I can stand to face. We've gone through it all together. She's had to reconcile her faith in the face of things I'm sure she never anticipated facing. And she's done it with grace and courage. And today, I wish my mom the happiest 78th birthday ever. I love her and have never been more proud of anyone than I have of her. I hope that I'm able to achieve being even half the person she is.

Alter Egos

I think there are several people hanging out inside. Of me, that is. I find myself in people I see around me. On television, in movies, in real life. They just seem like people like me. They say things I would. Have actions or motions like me. Or they swirl their skirt in such a fashion as to make a statement. Or they roll their eyes. Or their face tells all. Mine does. Or they don't mince words.

Daniel Tosh seems to be a lot like me. Except for the fact that he's rich and I am not. And I think he smiles more than me. But, seriously, that smart ass humor with a penchant for poking fun and making up stories is precisely my game.

I've often wondered which Golden Girl I'm most like. I waver between Dorothy and Sophia...with some Blanche-like leanings. Dorothy Zbornak aka Bea Arthur....Organized, teacher-like tendencies, common sense oriented, and long flowing gowns. That's what Dorothy and I share. But as much as I have strong Dorothy tendencies, I think I'm even more like her Momma. Sophia Petrillo.....aka Estelle Getty. No nonsense, call your BS as I see it, and always in some sort of trouble. Yep, that's me.

And I've just started a recent David Sedaris book. And there's no doubt that he and I share many of the same writing styles for humor and drawing visions in people's heads. A bit twisted with plenty of childhood memories. However, like Tosh.O above, once again, he's richer than I am.

How about you??

It's Bustin' Out All Over.....

June is, that is. Well, I am too.....and if this tradition continues of snacking in the evenings, it's not going to be pretty. The new blog header picture has sort of become tradition around these parts. It's from my buddy Kelly's blog....Rambling Along in Life. Kelly took the pic in his neighborhood a few years back and posts it every June to celebrate PRIDE around the world. This is typically the beginning of gay Pride festivals worldwide...many during the month of June including Portland's which we'll be actively integrated in this year.

The long and winding road will be ahead of us on Thursday when we motor from Portland to Boise on one of our most favorite drives. The trip takes us down I-84 through the Columbia River Gorge, past some of the nation's largest wind turbine farms, along the same route as the settlers of old traversed on the Oregon Trail, and into my home state of Idaho. We love road trips, especially after spending much of our lives dressed up as air hostesses and playing airplane. It's my mom's 80th birthday on Friday. I told her in a card recently that I've run out of good, positive adjectives for her. She is quite the Mom. I wish I were only half the woman she is. No, seriously, even half the woman.

And so, I'm off an running today -- get the tire inflation checked on the Kia Soul Ghost, cart Mommy-Dearest-In-Law to the doctor, fly a Las Vegas turn tomorrow morning, pack, get Mason's overnight back loaded up, place my online order for our new flight attendant uniforms set to debut next January, and trim my nose and ear hairs. It's going to be a busy few days.