No Wedding Pictures (Again), But Here’s a Picture of a Lovely Deer in the Snow

The wedding road trip to North Carolina has been postponed for a second time due another winter storm. This just makes for better reading in that book I keep saying I’m going to write.

There really is no sense complaining about the weather, so I’m looking on the bright side and hoping for the best. I keep thinking some rich friend will cry, “Enough!” and give us free tickets to California where it’s always warm and sunny.

One good thing I know will to be true: with the repeatedly shifting date of this marriage, no one can expect me to remember my anniversary. That’s just fine with me since I’m terrible at stuff like that anyway.

Gay couples have too many anniversaries. We have to keep up with when we first met, when we first had sex (not always the same date, but if it is I’m not judging), when we tell other people we first met (this is a common occurrence since we’re usually dating someone else at the time. It’s especially important if first date and first sex coincide), when we started seeing each other exclusively, when we broke up, when we got back together, and now, for some of us, when we got married, when and where our marriages are recognized, where they aren’t recognized. Some couples have been married more than once in different states…it’s a wonder we’re able to hold jobs, pay taxes, decorate fabulous homes, set fashion trends and all the other ways we contribute to society in the midst of the chaos that is our personal lives.

Add to that the fact that I’m not your typical gay man, having four children (all adults now) as I do. My three where born almost exactly two years and two weeks apart. How can I be expected to remember their birthdays? I have kept the dates in my wallet for years because official forms often require that I know them.

Oh, and did I mention that my mother and father share the same birthday? In the same month as their anniversary? Isn’t that strange?

And so just for the record, the wedding is now scheduled for March 13. It’s on a Friday. I’m getting married on Friday the 13th.

I’m just gonna leave that right there.

I Deserve These Pop-Tarts

My day started with Fred the cat knocking a candle into the tube. Being a light sleeper, I knew there was no hope of going back to sleep after the reverberating clamour that caused. I got up, turned up the fireplace in the living room, and knocked out a 45-minute cardio/light weights workout, the first I’ve done in forever.

I showered and made it to the office by 7:15, where I worked all day doing not one thing I expected to do. I managed an 8,000 step walk at lunch when I also received the news that Middle Tennessee is under another winter weather watch. Travel is expected to be hazardous Wednesday through Friday, thus jeopardizing once more my upcoming nuptials, postponed from last week for the same reason.

I came home and practiced yoga for an hour. I ate leftover beef stroganoff while listening to the Laid Back Lite Pop channel on Google Play, a playlist comprised of acoustic renditions of well-known songs. Even the happy tracks come across as terribly earnest and sad.

So this out-of-control day, this fire, this emo music, these pop-tarts, and this damn cat in my lap (the same one who, started it all) have all conspired to put me in the mellowest of moods. I’ll sit here awhile longer then get up, let the dogs out one last time, give the cats their bedtime snack, start the dishwasher, and go to sleep, only to wake up and do it, or some variation thereof, all over again tomorrow, if I’m lucky.

Yes. You read that right, if I’m lucky. Life is good.

Creative Reading

book quote

I’m reading The Girl with All the Gifts by M. R. Carey. It’s a zombie apocalypse story with a twist. As I read, I’m highlighting clever phrases that strike my fancy, motivated by the vague notion that one day I’ll turn to them for inspiration when I write that book I keep thinking I’ll write.

As with most everything I do for pleasure, I’m reading the book on my phone. It makes highlighting, note taking, and perusing the markups I make super easy.

What struck me about the quote above is how the author was able to capture urgency, priority, clarity, and purpose all in one sentence fragment, rules for writing be damned. The words say to me, “If I am not successful in accomplishing this one thing right now, nothing that follows will matter.”

That’s a powerful idea. Are there now-or-never moments that require decisive action? I believe there are. Some are obvious. I think of swerving a vehicle to avoid a collision, or taking a cake out of the oven when the timer expires.

Other crucial instances are much more enigmatic. If I say something, what will be the response? More often than not, there are too many variables to make a prediction. Frequently, I think I know without a doubt the way things will go, only to be surprised by an unimagined conclusion.

If I leave something unsaid, what possibilities will be forever out of reach? Hesitancy, silence, or inaction at just the wrong moment can say more than an entire book of words. How are we to know, all at the same time, all of the time, the where, the when, and the what required to meet the if-this-then-that order on which our existence is built?

If not for forgiveness, grace, and a higher power [I call that power “God”] who is working constantly for the best of possibilities, I would freeze in a perpetual state of indecision, which itself carries an admitted outcome, and is not a rewarding way to live.

May I have the wisdom to act decisively when living requires action, and may I give and receive grace when actions fail me.

Mushroom Surprise


A mushroom has popped up in violet #1. The surprise of it makes me think of frogs and faeries. While I know a fungal spore made its way through processing, to Lowe’s, to potted plant in my living room, it’s more fun to imagine wee people hidden in the walls of the house who only come out when the humans and the cats and dogs are asleep.

One of the wee folk mounted a mighty frog who hopped onto the coffee table, where the faerie intentionally planted the spore several weeks ago. He’s waiting for me to take a nap so he can come back this afternoon to harvest it for Sunday dinner, much to his family’s delight. He noticed the mushroom yesterday, but left it to ripen overnight. Leaving it is a risk he weighed, knowing that if I saw it I might uproot it and whisk it to the trash, ruined and forever lost.

Worse, I might pop it in my mouth like the greedy bastard I am. While totally delicious and completely safe, he’s counting on my mushroom ignorance to prompt me to leave it alone. On the off chance that I’ll snatch it up and eat it, he’s sprinkled it with his version of pesticide, a concoction that, if I were to ingest it, would either make me violently ill or send me on a two-day psychedelic trip. He knows that if I eat this particular mushroom it’s wasted, but he hopes I’m capable of learning from my mistakes and that I’ll leave his horticultural efforts alone in the future.

I wish he’d just come out and introduce himself. I’d love to meet him! But why would he? He’s perfectly happy living in the walls and between the ceiling and the floor with his life-partner and their children from previous marriages.

Blogging: Is It Worth It?


My renewed commitment to writing has resulted in my using the Discover feature in WordPress. The results? Y’all are good, and I feel intimidated.

Most of the posts I read where written by bloggers with the ability to convince me that watching paint dry is as exciting as the grand opening of the world’s fastest roller-coaster. I read about comfort food, the impending decline of facial hair among hipster men, and the importance of listening.

While the subject matter varied widely, I noticed a few consistency. People on WordPress can spell, at least from what I can tell. I’m horrible at spelling, which makes me grateful for the word predictor on my phone. Good bloggers are serious about blogging. It appears that the most engaging writers spend a significant amount of time writing. Images get my attention. It doesn’t matter what the topic is or how well it’s written, I’m more likely to read a post if it has an image along with it. Really good writers blog about their passions. Their enthusiasm makes me excited to read their posts, even if it’s about something I know nothing about.

So, why am I intimidated? Well, I’ve already said I’m a bad speller. I’m not sure yet how much time I’m going to put into writing. I enjoy taking pictures, but pairing them with a post every time I write feels overwhelming. I know what I’m passionate about, but I worry about what my kids/mom/sister/lover/friends/coworkers will think when they read my innermost thoughts, posted for all the world to see.

This blogging, it’s risky business if it’s done well. Tell me: am I doing it for the right reasons? Am I making too much of it? Is it worth it?