Damn it’s been a long time. I mean really, how have you LIVED without your daily dose of G? Well, I have heard you crying in the night like wolf shot from the air by Hunter Barbie and I am here to save you all.
And oh, so much has happened since we were last together. Let’s start with me, since that’s always my favorite topic. The New Job is pretty freakin’ awesome. I’m leasing apartments and doing marketing for two apartment communities that are both owned by a national company which I will not name here because, as I said, the job is awesome and I’d like to keep it, thank you very much. So here’s something that I should probably have realized but didn’t: it is SO much different being one of three Black women in an office (and being the only people on the office staff we are the majority) than being one of three Black people in a company of hundreds. I have to say that I like it. Not that I don’t love my brothers and sisters of all races (literally and figuratively considering my family racial dynamic) but there is an undeniable shorthand that the three of us have in the office that I believe is a racial/gender thing. The other two characters in my office life are our Maintenance guys, both of whom are White, one of whom is PFG (pretty fuckin’ great) in his own words and in mine and one of whom we refer to as the shaved ape - both for the physical and mental similarities. There are plenty more players on my stage, why no one has mined this potential mother lode of comedy for a sitcom is beyond me, but that will have to wait because oh so much else has been going on in the never ending story of G.
We’ll start with Pete. I’m using his real name here because he probably wouldn’t care and because I am slowly getting over my privacy fears with this blog. I seriously doubt one of you will turn into a crazy ass stalker when someone coughsusancough won’t even pick up the phone when I call. Of course I’ve missed a few calls from you guys in my time (just thought I’d bring that one up before Monty and NoR did) but…
You know what I just realized? “Use it or lose it” is true of blog writing too! This is pretty crappy. Oh well, you love me, you’ll get over it and hopefully I’ll get back in the swing of things and up to par soon.
Now, where was I? Oh yes, Pete. Pete is adorable in the way that guys who are scary to others and marshmallow puff with you are adorable. He’s six something and around 200 lbs and he could probably beat you up. Yeah, you too, tough guy. He’s divorced, with two kids that he’s crazy about and no dog. I’m working on the dog part. The kids are a boy and girl aged 13 and 9 respectively and I will not use their names here, because they’re just kids and I haven’t met them yet. He’s also 40 and crazy about me. Well, of course, who wouldn’t be crazy about me? The strange thing is that I’m crazy about him right back. He doesn’t care about politics - or more accurately doesn’t trust any politician, he likes hard rock and doesn’t like sci fi and did not get The Princess Bride at all. This is NOT the guy you’d think I would end up with -right? I can’t explain it but he turns me into a sickeningly sweet ball of goo when he smiles at me and he cracks me up. So we’re about a month in and we’re at the meeting-the- friends stage of the relationship. We’re actually using the word relationship - who‘d a thunk it?
It is not, as you may suspect, all puppy dogs and rainbows in G land. The recent economic crisis has pretty much wiped out Mama G’s retirement plans. It was supposed to happen next year when she turns 65 but will now likely have to be postponed until she’s 70 at least. I don’t usually regret things that I have done in my life - thinking that all the choices I have made, even the bad ones, were necessary to lead me to wherever I am, but at this moment I would love to be able to go back in time, do some things differently and be able to help her financially right now. The good news is that she has her health, her job is secure and by the time this is published she will have seen Robin Thicke and Mary J Blige in concert. Still, any prayers or good wishes or positive energy or any strength at all really that you could send to her would be appreciated. For someone who has watched a lifetime worth of work and savings practically collapse in a week she’s doing really well, but she’s still my Mama and I worry. Oh and if you could spend Nov 4th driving people to the polls to vote for Obama so Mama doesn’t end up a bag lady, that’d be great too.
Speaking of which, I really must say that I am lovin’ livin’ in a battleground state. Everything I said about wishing that I was still in SC during the primaries I completely take back. This ish rocks. They’re here all the time. ALL THE TIME. McCoward (read the latest issue of RS for an explanation of the name should you need one) hung out with Hank Williams Jr down at the Oceanfront this weekend, because really, THAT’s the guy I’m gonna’ take political advice from. Obama has been stumping through the state like he’s running for Governor instead of President and we’re actually getting some pretty intelligent coverage on our local news. I know, it’s crazy. The upshot is that we have some great registration numbers and may turn out 85% of Virginians at the polls on HappyHappyJoyJoy Day (or Election Day for those of you not as dorky as I) AND people are actually paying attention to down ticket races as well. And I do mean down ticket. Thirty five citizens are filing a lawsuit against a city councilman they voted for three years ago because he said he had a comprehensive plan to turn their neighborhood around and yet no part of this plan ever made it into even one City Council meeting. Now it’s almost HHJJ Day and he’s on local news touting these big brother streetlight cameras and trying to act like he’s been actually doing something and they are PISSED. I love it. You know how I am minions, I get charged up when people start taking action. Don’t just vote his ass out, sue him, embarrass him and make sure that your ward doesn’t get screwed again. LOVE IT.
Now, let’s talk about Sarah Palin aka Hunter Barbie. On second thought, let’s not. Why waste time? Here’s a little picture that you’ve all probably seen already, but it made me chuckle every time I opened it in each of the seven emails I got last week about her so here you go anyway.
My company has a webinar on time management that I am seriously considering taking. If I can find the time. Yeah, that was a bad joke, but it was also true…which is just sad. Thing is that I can’t work overtime. It isn’t allowed. Not that I can get everything I need or want to get done in 40 hours, I can’t. So then I move on from my day at the office, usually to dinner with Pete or volunteering at Obama HQ or at the hospital but part of me is trying to figure out how to get more crap done at work. Compartmentalizing has never been one of my strong suits. And now we’re having some problems at one of our communities and the powers that be are sending me out there as if I have super powers (which you know extend only to my awesome and terrible knowledge of West Wing trivia and general dorkiness) and they expect me to fix it - or at least help, neither of which I am at all sure that I can do. So I’ll try to be a team player…ick…for the next two weeks while I am longing to be back in my happy office AND worry about the election AND try to work on Papa G’s upcoming 80th Bday Smackdown AND put in some quality time with my babies in the hospital AND grab some quality snuggles with Pete while trying to convince him that he wants a larger dog than he actually wants…oh and at some point in there I’ll freak out because the whole meeting the kids thing has to happen sooner or later and I am scared shitless of that. On second thought I don’t really need a time management webinar, I need vodka.
So let’s talk about the wedding. Not mine. Calm down. When G was g we lived in NYC (look! That rhymed!) and my parents were friends with the Kaminsky’s. I am two months older than Jason and three years older than Brett. We were part of a close enough knit group of friends and their kids that even though we moved almost twenty years ago and I haven’t seen some of these people in 16 years I sat on a plane to Newark and could bring not only faces but voices and scents to my mind in seconds. Brett got married last weekend. It was a beautiful wedding and she was a gorgeous bride. I was not at all jealous that she is three years younger than me and married. Not. At. All. In any event I had a great time. The wedding was like a massive family reunion…except we aren’t related. (That little fact didn’t stop Jason and Brett’s dad from walking around all weekend with a picture of Jake and I in the bath as babies - but whatever) My favorite thing about friendship is that when it is true, when there is more love than like, you can not see people for over a decade and fall back into it like a soft feather bed. Jason and I could see each other once a decade and we’d still be friends. Maybe it’s something we absorbed with the bathwater? Or maybe it’s just that the people who have known you since before you could hold you head up or roll over are family by virtue of experience. Whatever it is I’m glad I have it in my life.
Mama G and I, as usual, looked super fabulous. Papa G was there with the ?Wife? There was also an open bar (several if you want to get technical) which is necessary for me to be in a room, even a massive ballroom with over 300 people, and those three. A prodigious amount of gin was consumed, I danced like a fool and was caught on video doing it, did not sleep more then four drunken hours a night and had a great time in general.
When I was a child I thought that my father’s friends ( codename: The Jewish Mafia) were the coolest men on the planet. They were young men who looked up to him and shared his passionate idealism about the education system and his commitment to change. He was their teacher and their leader and as his daughter I had a special place in their hearts (I am still somewhat famous in the halls of the administration building for School District 5 in NYC). I saw in them the same vision of my father as Master and Commander that I had, plus they could play basketball and reach the top of the TV where the huge jar of M&Ms were. If Papa G was Zeus, these men and their wives and girlfriends filled out the canon. I’ve been trying to put into words what it meant to see them all there but I can never seem to find the right ones. My big mouth fails. You know how people say that you should go see the Grand Canyon because it’s one of the few things in the world that actually lives up to its’ description? These men were my Grand Canyon and I was so thankful that after seeing them again they still are. If any of them are reading this - I love you. Steve, Burt, Hud, Zip, Doc - you guys are still my heroes.
So minions, I have returned to you as a swallow to Capastrano (maybe I spelled that wrong...but you know what I mean). We’ll all return to regular scheduled diet of political and emotional punditry capped off with exhortations to buy my shit already, would ya, very soon. In fact, I’ll probably talk to you all again tomorrow. In the meantime, may vodka be with you and also with me.