Part 2 Chapter 2

From the age of 4 through age 7 I remember feeling safe, loved, nurtured and adored. I had two dad’s who were madly in love with each other and were able to celebrate this love through having a family. We were the Gay version of Annie and I had a lot of Daddy Warbucks’ around me. I was the center of all parties and there were a lot of parties. Easter, Birthdays, Oscar’s, Super Bowls (yes, my extended family loved the 49ers), Thanksgiving and Christmas. All over the top and all a ton of fun for me. I was used to being around adults with no playmates in sight having spent so much time at my grandmother’s house and these fiesta’s were no exception. Many of my uncles craved a family and I was the closest outlet. I was carried around the homes, I was spoken to as an adult, I was played with, read to and I was LOVED! I am still convinced one of our closest family friends bought a dog so that I would have something extra to entertain me while at his home. They recorded movies for me to watch when it was time to wind down for bed. I had a bed always made up for me when I arrived. And, I always had separate snacks since I was a picky eater.

One thing that has always stood out at these parties is the lack of stereotypes exhibited. Granted they protected me from all things crass and treated me as a porcelain doll, but never did I hear a dirty joke, see anyone fondling each other, no affection was being staged or see any grandiose feminine gestures. These men were all professionals, travelled and educated. I am not sure what happened when I went to bed, but I can tell you that while the alcohol may have flowed with abundance I was always protected from anything that could be interpreted as vulgar. I was after all everyone’s child and favorite niece.

I recall observing on more than one occasion Oliver’s best friend Burt providing a severe tongue lashing to a new clique member. I would never see them back at any function after these scoldings. I always felt bad for them, but I was happy that I was never being told I had done something wrong. What I discovered later in life was the scolding was because of me. These newbies had been schooled prior to their invitation to the Gayest Gala in town that I was to be considered at all times. This meant a certain amount of control was expected and if any of my uncle’s felt this line was crossed the newbie would be told as such. Never one to take chances with my well being, Burt would promptly ban these younglings from ever returning to these parties because they had violated the sanctity of my innocence. Mind you that I never over heard what was being scolded, but the protection was so strong over me that whether I was in ear shot or not did not matter.

A little girl could not have been happier. Only a year prior I had come from a life where I felt scared all of the time. I was scared that I would never see my parents again or that I would be forgotten at one of the many homes I was left for care with. With this new family I started to come out of my shell of shyness and I was able to be a little girl (well, a little Princess really).  These parties were some of the happiest times I can remember and while there were very rarely any women around, these men taught me how a woman should be treated.

To be continued………..

Peace and leaf blowers

I am on vacation from work but apparently this does not entitle me to be on vacation from noise. Leaf blowers, tree munchers and general garden killer noise was what woke me up this morning. Allow me to explain the complete illogic behind this particular noise this morning. It rained last night and this morning. What pray tell does this have to do with my slumber? A leaf cannot be blown around when it is wet; this renders the leaf blower entirely useless and the person operating it a complete douche bag. Why oh why would they use them after it has rained? Well, the gardeners in our hood either have completely fried all brain cells from inhaling the gas exhaust that comes out of the leaf blower or they just don’t give a fuck. Could be both…what I do know is that they have not the slightest clue about plants. 

They re-seed grass and then cut it the next week. They “prune” plants by chopping off everything but the base. They weed gardens by pulling every living thing out of them. These fuckers kill all things living. Maybe I am hostile towards them this morning because they woke me and waking me up is akin to waking a bear out of hibernation (let’s just say that last year my neighbors woke me up on the 4th of July at 3am with fireworks and what they received was a verbal assault so severe they are now scared of our household – I am fortunate that I was not arrested). It is not pretty to wake me up and I advise all not to try it. 

You may not know this but California is in a serious drought. Los Angeles County has restricted the days you can water, when you can water, will fine you $300.00 to start if you violate the outside rules and has asked all residents to reduce their water usage by 15%. So, what do the gardeners do??? They start to water. Not something they have ever done before. It’s kinda like a big fuck you to California. 

The irony in all of this is that these hostile plant murders from this morning are not even our gardeners. They are our neighbors gang of sadists for the sleeping. This disruption this morning has solidified two things: I need to live somewhere where I do not hear my neighbors flushing their toilet next door, where there is not a police helicopter flying over million dollar homes at 10pm, where people do not feel fireworks are a rite of passage and where people tend to their own gardens. 

Oh yeah …….one last thing: if you want to check out a very nifty way to sift through blogs – try http://alphainventions.com/   it provides you blogs that have literally just been created.

More than just a girl

The morning fog is here and lingering. It is a welcome friend though; it keeps the sun from overheating our little rented house. It seems the fog from last night and the last week are also lingering…this type of fog is not quite as invited. While I usually enjoy the head fog on Saturday mornings, today I had planned to write another section to my life. But, for me the creativity of writing only comes when the mood strikes. The focus has to be just right, the sentiment stable and the heart open. If it’s not, the writing is fractured and unfeeling. 

Maybe it is because I am girl that these emotions have to be just right. Or maybe it is because I grew up in a vail of secrets dashed with shame that it is difficult for me to just be open. Or maybe it is due to the fact that when it comes to creativity I have no grounding. I find it difficult to find my footing and when I do it is difficult to keep it on the ground for very long. A psychic once told me that this was due to me lacking earth in my chart. When he told me this, it resonated as being true. This could be the reason I feel so at peace when I am working in the garden or just being out in nature; it completes me. Some of my teachers would argue, however, that my lack of direction comes from just being lazy. 

And so, I embrace today for all of me – that I am a girl who is an, at time, overly sentient being; who has a strong masculine side to her; that loves to nurture creativity both in myself and others; and who deserves a day to just relax.