It's after 10:30 and I had two drinks during dinner at Tres with B and Jamie and so instead of attempting to edit and post the web log entry that I'd planned to edit and post tonight I'm just gonna borrow a video clip that my mom embedded on her blog earlier today which features my firecracker of a grandmother being just too damn adorable in her reaction to a surprise from my family on her seventy-fifth birthday.
I think I've watched the above clip a dozen or more times over the course of the last few days and it makes me very happy but also kinda sad and it brings back so many great memories and even some regrets and I wish like hell I'd had the chance to come out to her and that she was still alive and man do I miss that grand old dame.
I arrived home from my travels last night and discovered a section of the Bay Area Reporter sitting by itself on the island in the kitchen. In the bottom corner of that section was a picture of B and I that had been taken nearly two weeks before at the Frameline San Francisco International LGBT Film Festival's opening night party.
Because B hadn't mentioned to me beforehand that we would be attending said party, I showed up wearing the same oh-so-casual clothes that I'd worn to work that day, which of course included the backpack that I've carried daily since college.
"Man, it sure was nice of the Bay Area Reporter to feature my JanSport so heavily in this week's issue," I told B when he walked into the kitchen a short time later.
"How do you think I feel?" he said. "It looks like I just picked you up from school."
Incidentally, I think that it may be appropriate to note that this is not the first time that I've played the doof in a local gay newspaper. It is, in fact, the second time.
It's 4:28am and I'm typing these words from a Lyft (see above photo) on my way to O'Hare to catch a 6:08am flight back to the Bay. Since Wednesday of last week I will have traveled for thirty-one hours on planes, trains and automobiles to spend roughly seventy-six hours with my loved ones and in all honesty it was, excuse my language, really fucking worth it. I squeezed in a ton of QT with my folks and my sibs, kissed a whole bunch of babies, hugged so many old friends, partook in fitness and spent enough time outdoors enjoying Michigan in June to have earned a gorgeous burn line between the shoulder and forearm on both sides of myself.
I know I've missed a couple of posts in recent days, but because quite a lot of life happened during that time I'll probably resort to publishing backdated entries later this week which may confuse folks subscribed to this web log via email or RSS feed but in the immortal words of my Dallas bestie Sassy Laura, "Sorry I'm not sorry."
But seriously though, I'm sorry.
Amanda picked me up at my parents' place at Balcom's Cove around 6:45 this morning and together we headed downtown to sweat our way through the 34th annual Mercy Health Seaway Run. I'd been training for several months with my mind set on the goal of finishing a 5K race in less than nineteen minutes and even though this year's Seaway Run fell on the same weekend as San Francisco Pride I decided that I was gonna try and achieve that goal at home. So I walked up to the starting line in front of the Muskegon Family YMCA just before 7:45 with Nate, one of my best friends since middle school, and while we were bouncing around and chatting and nervously awaiting the sound of the gun I looked up and saw Bryan and Kelly and Ashley and Chris and Harrison standing fifteen or so yards in front of us wearing homemade rainbow-decorated t-shirts that said 'Love' and 'Love is Love' and 'Pride' on them and in that moment my heart felt close to bursting.
In the end I missed my goal time by two seconds (I finished in 19:01), but I couldn't really be mad about that or about anything really because my own Pride Parade had been there to support me and I got to see a whole bunch of friends, many of whom I hadn't seen in far too long, and it felt really damn good to feel so at home at home.