Thursday, December 04, 2008


It was wonderful being able to bring the Goat home for Thanksgiving. We've spent a fair amount of time at my mother's, between one thing and another, but this was just different. He was there as part of the family, and the family seemed to recognize that and just get on with things. My youngest sister's two boys were delighted to be able to talk to someone about sportscars, and for his part, the Goat agreed that the food my sister-in-law brought [once again, her "special" carrot and cream cheese soufflé] was inedible. Having vented about it to the Goat ahead of time, I had to eat mine with as good a grace as I could muster, but I did get a kick out of the fact that he didn't.

He did restrain himself from demanding the recipe, which he had threatened to do ahead of time; it was bad enough to hear the usual carefully polite remarks about how "unusual" it was, and to hear her preening reply that it was so nice to be able to bring something everyone enjoyed so much... I restrained myself from speaking the simple truth, and that's all I can say for my own behavior.

We stayed at my mother's two nights running, and got to stay in the "best" bedroom, too, which happens to be the only one where there is any privacy at all--soundwise--not that we were up to much. I was already fighting off the cold I am now under the weather with, and actually slept much of Thanksgiving Day itself. At least we didn't have to watch the Macy's parade in a house full of poisonously polite queens, as we did last year. We drank and stayed up late playing cards with my mother both nights. It's a short life, but a merry one, up in the Frozen North.

Then, as planned, we hit the road south again to get to his sister's on The Shore--and got another turkey dinner with her kids and grandchildren. Then back home to a friend's party to welcome visiting Gay Friends from the West--another turkey dinner. Then we took a night off for good behavior [Saturday having been a "night off" without good behavior anywhere in sight, as the poetry readers among you may have figured out] and then we struggled out to the Goat's little house in the woods on Monday night, where without thinking he thawed out some leftovers from last February for us to have for dinner: turkey stew. It was good, but with the turkey dinner the school served the last night before Thanksgiving break, that made five turkey dinners in a little over a week... but I'm not complaining.

I love turkey. Really.

And now there's this:

Remember my oldest brother--the one who went into a rant about the local lesbian real estate take-over on his road the night I told him I was leaving my family to live as a gay man?

Yes, that one.

Well, he called me today to invite me to a surprise party that's being given for his birthday this weekend; not only have I never had the surprisee invite me to a surprise party before, but this one puts me in the position of not having any time to shop for a gift, and not having anything ready to give, as I wasn't planning on putting in an appearance at a party I knew nothing about. All I wanted to do was invite myself to my mother's Saturday night so I could hit the bottle and the card table, but now it turns out she's part of the Surprise Borg Collective, too.

That's the price you pay for being part of a family. No wonder gay people want to redefine "family": we'd like to introduce some kind of minimum standards. Do you suppose it's politically incorrect to bring an alcoholic a bottle of booze?

Last, but certainly not least, some more important news:

Anyone who has followed Bigg's link to this corner of Blogworld, or followed my link over to "My Confessions," might want to know that The Tough Guy of East Overshoe has not been posting because he has been in the hospital again, far from home this time. HB is riding herd on him, and a bunch of nurses is trying everything short of tying him up to get him to settle down and give some of what the doctors want to do a chance to work. That's my boy. I've never actually met the guy, but I have gotten to count on his presence in my cyberlife. As Alan Jay Lerner once said, "I've grown accustomed to his face," though it's mostly his acerbic tone of voice that does it for me. I guess I have also enjoyed being reminded that there is less drama in my life than goes on in some others, and so reminded to count my blessings.

You try it, too.
And if you're the praying type, please remember my pal Bigg.

1 comment:

  1. I am actually a free man again as of this morning. Thank you for not using the fat picture of me! I'll be emailing you soon - but had to tell you that HB found your email the most entertaining, and he was a little pink-cheeked over your amusement at his email address.
    Thanks for writing me. It meant a lot.