Author of the Queen City Boys books

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want nanas

If I could be doing anything in the world right now, I’d make banana bread. But I don’t have any bananas.  Or, I think, flour, or most any of the ingredients.  Alas.

I had a fabulous weekend.  Amazing weekend.  Tonight though I feel a little temper-y and out of sorts.  Maybe I just don’t like the idea of the weekend being over.  Or maybe I just really want banana bread and I don’t have any. There’s nothing to do about it but pout pout pout.

Do you think I could train a monkey to do my laundry?  Where would I got a monkey?  Would the cost of feeding it be worth having to not do my own laundry?

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How to procrastinate and still get things done

This is what I did today instead of working:

This was a collared blouse. I always felt like I worked at Denny’s or something when I wore it. The color choice was perhaps unfortunate. I altered the neckline and added lots and lots of ribbon. It clearly needs ironing here, but it definitely looks way cuter.

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A skirt from an old pair of jeans. Which looks super cute on, though maybe not so much in this picture.
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I also made a muslin pattern for a skirt for Ladybug. Tomorrow I have to work. Arg. But I might try and at least get the brown polkadot dress hemmed up. Since the sewing machine is all set up.


worth a thousand words indeed

The living room is filled with crap. It’s the usual, end of the week, should have been cleaned and put away over the weekend crap combined with six large boxes that my mother sent. These boxes contain old yearbooks, favorite children’s books, oh so very many of my grandmother’s photographs, books I’m peculiarly unable to part with, a wide variety of knickknacks and keepsakes, and the box that I am currently staring down. A large box, wrapped carefully in a map of Berlin, both the top and bottom wrapped separately, so it can be opened at will. The question is, do I want to open it? I know what it contains, at least in theory. It is notes, cards and letters sent to me from high school through college. There are, I imagine, love letters, break up letters, meaningful and meaningless notes, personal birthday cards, and throwaway cards barely signed and without real sentiment. Do I want to go through this stuff? Should I shove it in a large envelope and file it away for someone to find after my death? Should I just burn it? Should I carefully sift through it a save out the pieces I may or may not be interested in reflecting in my old age? I’m leaning toward burning all the contents unread and unsifted.

Here is a photo I accidentally took this morning while messing with my camera:

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Really the photo is all you need to know about my last few days. Big time excitement, my friends, big bg big excitement.


here’s how the story ends

Because East Nashville, though still a place where you can get robbed at gun point, is also awesome, I got almost all my stuff back. The neighbors across the train tracks found my apron and paycheck in their yard and brought it to the restaurant. And then some guy found my wallet WAY up the road, and gave it to his friend to bring back to me. Because this is Nashville the guy who returned my wallet is Ketch from Old Crow Medicine Show. Then Ladybug, since she is the best friend ever, went and drove around where they found my wallet and found my make-up bag too. Now all I’ve lost is the actual purse and my phone (and my time and everyone’s peace of mind). My wallet had all my cards and everything but the cash in it still. Boss Daddy took care of my financial loss, I guess to assuage his guilt, but also because he is the best boss ever. The best part is, I do not have to go get a new driver’s license. Although I have no bank card until the new one arrives. Alas.

I am having a strange people coming out of the woodwork sort of week. Obviously I am fairly public about some aspects of my life, writing about it here and all, so that of course invites comments from people I wasn’t aware were reading. The support from my friends has been great. Really, thank you guys who commented here, and the people who called and everything. It’s really moving to know people care, even when they are far away. And my friends here have been really amazing. I’m vaguely annoyed by the guys at work hovering around me and worrying. But at the same time, it is really sweet. I feel the love. I guess I’m mostly upset that everyone else is so upset. I did totally put off calling my mom because I didn’t want to worry her. And now she is worried. I told her everyone else was worried to and I had people watching out for me. Which hopefully makes her feel better. I just don’t know how to make my friends and everyone else feel better. Sure, rationally I know that isn’t my job. But I don’t know how to stop feeling like it is.

Anyway, people out of the woodwork, so yes some of it is related to people checking up on me, but there’s been a few out of the blue surprises. People I definitely didn’t expect to hear from, and stranger still, they were just calling out of the blue, not calling in response to all this recent bullshit.

I am so very tired. I have a ring of mosquito bites around my ankle. My neck hurts. I want my mom. I want to never have been broken up with. And yes, yes, I’m still freaked out and I wish I could sleep for a week. Also I seem to have forgotten what all the things I need to do this week. Maybe I will feel better in the morning. Hopefully.

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It’s my town, yo!

Copied and pasted from and email from my father:

Fort Nashborough must be agreeing with you.  I was surprised to learn that the town was founded by Capt. John Donelson, as I remembered there is a Capt. John Donaldson/Donelson (both spellings are given) in our family tree, who was the progenitor of the Tennessee branch of the family, including Abram Rodgers, my dad’s great-great grandfather.  I checked a little further and the Nashville founder is one of the elder John Donelson’s children, but it was another son, William Donelson, that’s our direct ancestor.  Still, you ARE related to the founder of the town.

So there you go, when people ask why I love Tennessee so much, I can tell them it’s because it’s my town!

My sister is here.  So far it’s been like summer vacation (except where I have to work every night).  I think we’re either hitting up the pool or the museums today.  See?  Summer vacation.

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Happy Birthday, America.

All in all a good long weekend.  Whopperjaw came up to play.  We had a nice dinner with Ladybug and Miss Sparkle on Thursday night and then drank WAY too much wine.  We shopped and hung out on Friday, made tons and tons of Middle Eastern food, ate with our new neighbors (two fabulous gay boys), went and watched the fireworks and generally just chilled.  Saturday we saw Hancock (ignore the reviews, it was very entertaining and I’m not just saying that because of my ridiculous love for Will Smith), then went to the park, cooked more, ate more and chilled more.  Today was similar. So basically, Whopperjaw=food, chillin’ and relaxing.  Can’t really go wrong with that.

Now Ladybug and I are finally watching the season finale of Supernatural, and I’m sitting around feeling sorry for myself because I’m not getting the work done I need to (I just can’t find the damn answers I need) and ’cause Whopperjaw is back in Memphis and things seem a little less, well, chill than when he’s here.

The next week is work work work and hopefully finishing everything before my sister gets here for 10 days.

Everyone else have a good fourth? Anything fun?

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Come out of the closet, sure, but don’t tell your parents you are a bear

Tonight my mom took my sister and me to see John Waters speak.  I tried to take notes, to share all the brilliance with you all, but it was too hard to listen and take notes.

I can tell you that there was a high number of chicks with flamingo pink hair.  Some to good effect, some to very bad.  The price of admission was worth look on my mom’s face as she watched a fabulous drag queen walk past.  She checked his dress, his shoes, his amazing wig, and when he turned her face showed the same amount of shock we all felt and the amazing amount of back hair that the guy had.  My ma loves a good drag queen as much as I do, but really, he perhaps should have had a more concealing dress.

They showed the John Water’s no smoking in this theatre thing before he came on.  I do believe seeing that was my first ever encounter with John Water’s when I was a pre-teen, I saw it at the Harvard Exit before a film and I remember pretending I got it when everyone talked about how cool John Waters was.

Well, he is cool.  Damn fucking cool.  Here are some clever, utterly out of context bits from his talk tonight:

“Let them in for free, make them pay to leave.”

“S&M looks stupid at the beach.”

“I hate that I have to tell you this.  I know you thinking ‘my ears aren’t garbage cans, John’ but tonight they are.”

“I think I lead exactly the life you think I do.”

He talked about revolution and anarchy in the ways we thought of them in my youth and yes he’s right.  From John’s mouth to the country’s ears: Hey assholes, if you care so much about Bush being a bad president, don’t buy a watch that counts down the time ’till he leaves office, instead go tip over a car or start a riot.  Yeah.  We are all apathetic now.

It was awesome.  Cross another perfect icon of my youth off my list of people to see in person before one of us dies.

On the way home my ma asked if I was going to drive over [Capitol] hill, and I said no, around it.  She then wondered if I was going to take the “Red Robin Speedway” to get to the 520 bridge.   I swear, I have never heard it called that, but as soon as she said it I knew exactly what street she meant.  Driving on Eastlake, towards the U.Dist, it’s the last turn before the bridge.  My sister and I laughed so hard over the “Red Robin Speedway,” but alas, I suspect everyone who will find it as hilarious was in the car at that moment. It was an excellent reminder of why I love my ma and sis, and how funny we all are, at least to each other.