But, I just haven't felt like writing lately... At all... I guess this goes in spurts... Or for me it does. I don't really just want to blab on and on about nothing when nothing's really happening... Of note.
I'm still here... I'll write soon... but I'm just too hungry right now. I promise
Monday, October 8, 2007
Tuesday, August 14, 2007
Almost a month????
I can't stand how fast time goes by. I haven't written here in almost a month? I'm sure the four of you reading this blog missed it tremendously. He, he...
"He, he" reminds me... I've noticed how many men in their e-mails write "he, he" instead of "hee, hee," myself included. Do we have masculinity issues? "Hee, hee" sounds so much like "Tee, hee" which is a little school-girlish, isn't it? "LYLAS... Tee, hee." (Extra points for those that can tell me what LYLAS means.) And "ha, ha" strikes me as... I don't know, juvenile somehow. "Ho, ho" is too much like "ho, ho, ho" and I have trouble enough saying that at the holidays, now that I live in Phoenix. Rambling here...
Trip to SF was fine. Not perfect due to some family squabbling that took place (and is still taking place), but I don't want to go into that. Sis is a handful. Mom loves seeing her kids (including my partner and my brother-in-law) all together. It's really worth it just knowing what it means to her. My sweet Mama... Whose birthday was yesterday.
Sis and I will get over it... The trip reminded me of all of the family vacations when we were kids that she just about ruined because she didn't get her way. I love her though. What can you do? We're gonna hug it out eventually. We all had fun although it wasn't as restful and stress-free as I needed it to be.
I just got back from a quick jaunt to see my best friend from Phoenix in Breckenridge, CO where he plays in a summer music festival. Love him. Love the mountains. Love Colorado. Too bad my BF spent almost 30 years in Denver and never wants to go back. I would love being that close to mountains again. Flagstaff will have to do for now, I guess.
Going to Ohio at the end of the month to visit friends in Portsmouth. (????) They just moved there from New York City. (????????) Will be interesting to see what their life is like there. It'll be really fun for us all to be together.
Will put up some fun pictures soon.
"He, he" reminds me... I've noticed how many men in their e-mails write "he, he" instead of "hee, hee," myself included. Do we have masculinity issues? "Hee, hee" sounds so much like "Tee, hee" which is a little school-girlish, isn't it? "LYLAS... Tee, hee." (Extra points for those that can tell me what LYLAS means.) And "ha, ha" strikes me as... I don't know, juvenile somehow. "Ho, ho" is too much like "ho, ho, ho" and I have trouble enough saying that at the holidays, now that I live in Phoenix. Rambling here...
Trip to SF was fine. Not perfect due to some family squabbling that took place (and is still taking place), but I don't want to go into that. Sis is a handful. Mom loves seeing her kids (including my partner and my brother-in-law) all together. It's really worth it just knowing what it means to her. My sweet Mama... Whose birthday was yesterday.
Sis and I will get over it... The trip reminded me of all of the family vacations when we were kids that she just about ruined because she didn't get her way. I love her though. What can you do? We're gonna hug it out eventually. We all had fun although it wasn't as restful and stress-free as I needed it to be.
I just got back from a quick jaunt to see my best friend from Phoenix in Breckenridge, CO where he plays in a summer music festival. Love him. Love the mountains. Love Colorado. Too bad my BF spent almost 30 years in Denver and never wants to go back. I would love being that close to mountains again. Flagstaff will have to do for now, I guess.
Going to Ohio at the end of the month to visit friends in Portsmouth. (????) They just moved there from New York City. (????????) Will be interesting to see what their life is like there. It'll be really fun for us all to be together.
Will put up some fun pictures soon.
Tuesday, July 17, 2007
Take a closer look...
Last Thanksgiving, my mom and sister came from GA to AZ and we did the obligatory drive to Grand Canyon and Sedona since Sis hadn't been here before. (Ahem... I'd lived here 8, count 'em, 8 years.)Anyhoo, Mikey and I were sitting on a bench in Sedona and my mom snapped a picture of us.
I liked this picture so much... I thought we both looked really cute and happy...
And then I looked closer. Look at the woman in the background...
And then I LOVED this picture so much... I printed it and had it framed and it sits on a shelf in our dining room.
Vacation... All I Ever Wanted
I'm not sure I've ever needed a vacation more than the one we're leaving for on Friday.AGENDA
Friday, July 20 - 7:26 a.m., depart Phoenix, arrive in San Diego 8:43 a.m. (HEY, it was the cheapest flight)
Saturday, July 21 - Attend San Diego Gay Pride festivities, along with every other gay in Phoenix.
Sunday, July 22 - Depart San Diego 1:16 p.m., arrive San Francisco 2:30 p.m. (YES, bitches, I KNOW we're missing the Zoo Party... For God's sake...) Meet mom, sister and brother-in-law who are coming in from Georgia! Their first time ever in SFO! How fun!
Tuesday, July 24 - Depart San Francisco by car to go to Sonoma County and stay in this ridiculously cute cabin in the woods outside of Guerneville.
Wednesday, July 25 - Friday, July 27 - Drink wine, sleep, read, walk, laugh, love, talk
Friday, July 27 - Return to San Fran for the weekend.
Sunday, July 29 - Depart SFO 9 a.m., arrive Phoenix 10:56 a.m. Visit with my ex-wife and her husband and kid who are, coincidentally, coming to AZ on vacation. They're staying at our house and watching our pup while we're gone. (YES, bitches, ex-wife... For God's sake...)
Can't wait to get outta here!
Monday, July 16, 2007
And then there was one...
We live in a nice neighborhood. Quiet. Some older folks. Families. Quiet. Sleepy, even.
So, about three months ago, I went to Baker Brothers Nursery and bought three Terracotta planters and filled them with white Vincas. I put them on our front porch and we were so proud. We were actually able to keep them alive despite the searing temps of 110+ degrees. We watered them religiously and I got a great joy at walking by them every day when I come home.
Yesterday morning, we come back from breakfast at the Wildflower Bread Company and, as we are walking up to the front door, I stop in my tracks and look down.
There's only one of the planters there.
WHAT?!?! Do you mean to tell me that someone actually stole two of the planters right off our front porch??? I couldn't believe my eyes. And possibly in broad daylight?? (Although, in hindsight, they may have been gone when we went to breakfast and we just didn't notice it. I find it hard to believe someone stole them at 11 a.m.)
What kind of a world is it that someone will steal flower pots off someone's front porch? Have I lost ALL faith in humanity?
Hmmm... I wonder if the last one will be there when I get home today.
Wednesday, July 11, 2007
This little piggie...
Last night, I walked outside to turn off the light on the pool and, while walking back, tripped on a concrete border we have in the yard and THIS is what it turned into.It really hurt last night, but we went to dinner with friends anyway. After dinner I looked at it and it had all swollen up and turned bright purple. I've always heard that doctors can't do anything for broken toes, so I just decided to grin and bear it.
I had to wear flip-flops to work today and am limping all over the place. But, this woman who works in our box office asked me if I wanted her to do Reiki on it. I said sure.
She rubbed some Tea Tree oil on the toe and I sat for about 30 minutes while she held her hands around my toe. She said she would continue doing distance Reiki while I went back upstairs to my desk.
Ummm... It actually doesn't hurt as much as it did before. No kidding.
Friday, July 6, 2007
Tara's the only thing that matters...
Admit it... Every person you've ever met that's from the South and doesn't live there anymore annoys you from time to time with his/her stories about it. Right? Their eyes get this faraway look as they recount the red clay squishing between their toes, the wind whispering through the pines and they're Grandma's chicken and dumplings.
Forgive us. We're from a foreign country. We can't help ourselves.
I grew up in the South... With a capital S... Born in downtown Atlanta, my family moved to Belvedere, South Carolina (a suburb of Augusta, GA) when I was 2 years old, then to Macon, GA when I was 8 years old and then back to Snellville (technically, Lilburn, but even Atlantans don't know Lilburn) a suburb of Atlanta when I was 11 years old. I lived in the Atlanta area until I was 27 years old after graduating from Furman University in Greenville, SC. I lived in Norcross, Midtown and then Decatur.
My extended family on my mother's side were all from Atlanta and North Georgia while my extended family on my father's side were all from Jacksonville, FL and South Georgia. I had great aunts and uncles with names like Metzger, Cunnie, C.A. and, of course, my twin great aunts, Lovella and Rosella. We had unidentifiable casseroles after family funerals, accents like The Dukes of Hazzard and vacationed at Myrtle Beach and Jekyll Island.
And until I was 27 and moved away, I hated being from the South. I was embarrassed of my accent and wanted be from a family that had what I considered heritage, a certain culture.
I used to fantasize that my family was from different ethnic backgrounds. I would imagine that we were from Brooklyn or New Jersey, Italian immigrants with my mom big and fat and cooking up a pot of tomato something or other, my (hot) brothers would be snapping each other with towels in the kitchen, tasting out of the pot while Mama smacked their hands away, laughing and yelling and loving. Too many Ragu commercials on the SuperStation.
Or I'd imagine that I was from a Jewish family, learning passages from the Torah to recite for my Bar Mitzvah instead of memorizing Bible verses for Vacation Bible School and making a crucifix out of macaroni pasted on construction paper. I wanted to attend Temple and wear one of those hats I'd seen characters on "Rhoda" wear.
Anything, but my boring Southern family who ate things smothered in Velveeta and tomato soup and okra and never said a rude word directly to anyone, but would cut her to ribbons when she left the room.
Of course, until I moved away...
Now I'm proud... I wear it like a badge of honor... In Arizona, I'm CONSTANTLY having to tell people I'm not from Texas (NOT the South, btw...), but I'm glad they recognize the hint of accent I still have left... I love the reaction I get when I say I'm from Georgia... I just do... It's like I grew up in France or Croatia. In Phoenix, if you're not from Southern California or someplace REALLY cold, you're unusual.
I think I've completely romanticized the South though, like several of my Southern ex-pats have. I have a friend who has lived in New York City for 20 years or more, but is originally from Thomasville, GA. When he starts talking about Thomasville, he turns into Scarlett O'Hara and waxes poetically about his youth in Georgia. Ummm... I've BEEN to Thomasville... It's a pit...
Nevertheless, I've done the same thing... I think about the evenings with fireflies in the yard, the REAL Krispy Kreme doughnut shop on Ponce de Leon and fall color. I kind of miss the baptist churches with the bright green astroturf on the front steps. It was only in my 30s that I learned that it was OK to take a bottle of wine as a housewarming gift. I long for mountains, not really oceans. I want a front porch, even though I never really had one growing up.
It's in my blood... and when I meet a fellow Southerner, we speak like we've known each other all our lives. We have a secret connection that only the people who grew up there have (and not just lived there, by the way, but who grew up there).
We also know that no matter how far away you are, there's a part of you that really needs to go back. That we'll never be free of it... Nor would we want to... We understand the constant heart-tug we have with the South... and home.
We also know that even though it seems so foreign now in some ways, you can still slip right back into it like an old shoe... If I were HALF as good with gay men as I am with old Southern women, I'd get more ass than a toilet seat. I speak those women's language... They're my people... I've been to the Colonnade one too many times...
I love where I'm from and I love where I am. It makes for a good combination.
Oh, and my Grandma's chicken and dumplings? They were the best.
Forgive us. We're from a foreign country. We can't help ourselves.
I grew up in the South... With a capital S... Born in downtown Atlanta, my family moved to Belvedere, South Carolina (a suburb of Augusta, GA) when I was 2 years old, then to Macon, GA when I was 8 years old and then back to Snellville (technically, Lilburn, but even Atlantans don't know Lilburn) a suburb of Atlanta when I was 11 years old. I lived in the Atlanta area until I was 27 years old after graduating from Furman University in Greenville, SC. I lived in Norcross, Midtown and then Decatur.
My extended family on my mother's side were all from Atlanta and North Georgia while my extended family on my father's side were all from Jacksonville, FL and South Georgia. I had great aunts and uncles with names like Metzger, Cunnie, C.A. and, of course, my twin great aunts, Lovella and Rosella. We had unidentifiable casseroles after family funerals, accents like The Dukes of Hazzard and vacationed at Myrtle Beach and Jekyll Island.
And until I was 27 and moved away, I hated being from the South. I was embarrassed of my accent and wanted be from a family that had what I considered heritage, a certain culture.
I used to fantasize that my family was from different ethnic backgrounds. I would imagine that we were from Brooklyn or New Jersey, Italian immigrants with my mom big and fat and cooking up a pot of tomato something or other, my (hot) brothers would be snapping each other with towels in the kitchen, tasting out of the pot while Mama smacked their hands away, laughing and yelling and loving. Too many Ragu commercials on the SuperStation.
Or I'd imagine that I was from a Jewish family, learning passages from the Torah to recite for my Bar Mitzvah instead of memorizing Bible verses for Vacation Bible School and making a crucifix out of macaroni pasted on construction paper. I wanted to attend Temple and wear one of those hats I'd seen characters on "Rhoda" wear.
Anything, but my boring Southern family who ate things smothered in Velveeta and tomato soup and okra and never said a rude word directly to anyone, but would cut her to ribbons when she left the room.
Of course, until I moved away...
Now I'm proud... I wear it like a badge of honor... In Arizona, I'm CONSTANTLY having to tell people I'm not from Texas (NOT the South, btw...), but I'm glad they recognize the hint of accent I still have left... I love the reaction I get when I say I'm from Georgia... I just do... It's like I grew up in France or Croatia. In Phoenix, if you're not from Southern California or someplace REALLY cold, you're unusual.
I think I've completely romanticized the South though, like several of my Southern ex-pats have. I have a friend who has lived in New York City for 20 years or more, but is originally from Thomasville, GA. When he starts talking about Thomasville, he turns into Scarlett O'Hara and waxes poetically about his youth in Georgia. Ummm... I've BEEN to Thomasville... It's a pit...
Nevertheless, I've done the same thing... I think about the evenings with fireflies in the yard, the REAL Krispy Kreme doughnut shop on Ponce de Leon and fall color. I kind of miss the baptist churches with the bright green astroturf on the front steps. It was only in my 30s that I learned that it was OK to take a bottle of wine as a housewarming gift. I long for mountains, not really oceans. I want a front porch, even though I never really had one growing up.
It's in my blood... and when I meet a fellow Southerner, we speak like we've known each other all our lives. We have a secret connection that only the people who grew up there have (and not just lived there, by the way, but who grew up there).
We also know that no matter how far away you are, there's a part of you that really needs to go back. That we'll never be free of it... Nor would we want to... We understand the constant heart-tug we have with the South... and home.
We also know that even though it seems so foreign now in some ways, you can still slip right back into it like an old shoe... If I were HALF as good with gay men as I am with old Southern women, I'd get more ass than a toilet seat. I speak those women's language... They're my people... I've been to the Colonnade one too many times...
I love where I'm from and I love where I am. It makes for a good combination.
Oh, and my Grandma's chicken and dumplings? They were the best.
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