Monday, October 20, 2014

Mr. and Mr.

I remember as a kid — a not-yet-out-but-knowing-I-was-different kid — telling my mother that I would never get married, but I would have a maid to take care of my kids.

How things change; as I remember that story, I think it was my first shot at coming out — as a six-year-old, I think — because, even then, I never thought I could get married, would be allowed to get married, but I always thought I could have children, if that’s what I wanted.

Years later, years later, after meeting Carlos, falling in love with Carlos, and moving three-thousand miles to be with Carlos, I still never thought I could get married, and,  while I like children — deep-fried with a side of ranch dressing … I kid — I knew I didn’t really want children.

And now, fourteen year s after that, I realized I could get married — perhaps not in South Carolina, yet — and that I would get married. We both wanted to do it, and we planned it a couple of times, but it never seemed to work out; things happen, life happens.

I wanted to get married on our anniversary, October 17, because, and he’ll hate me for saying it and then he’ll quickly forget I said it at all, Carlos is bad with dates; I figured the last thing he needed was another “us” date to recall.

So this year, this past summer actually, we decided to go for it. We’d planned a trip to New York City — one of our favorite spots where equality has landed — and planned a week of sights and shows and drinks and just plain fun. I called my father and told him the good news; he said he was so happy for us but that he wouldn’t, couldn’t come, because he doesn’t 'do' big cities. I thought, Oh that’s okay, Dad and let it go, but every time we talked about it, he’d always say that same thing.

And then it hit me: I’m an idiot.

My father was saying how much he wanted to see Carlos and I marry; he’d seen my brother get married, he walked my sister down the aisle, and he wanted to see Carlos and I marry as well.

New York was out, and Bellingham, Washington was in.

The only difference was that in Washington we’d have a three-day waiting period from getting the license to the actual I do’s rather than the twenty-four-hour waiting period in New York. But, it meant that much to my Dad, and it meant that much to me to have him there for this big life event, so it was worth it.

So, Washington there we went; up to Sumas, in fact, a literal hop and skip — no jump because it’s that close — to the Canadian border. Dad’s house is about thirty minutes from Bellingham — a smallish beautiful city along Bellingham Bay — and that’s where we went last Monday to fill out the marriage license.

One hiccup? I’d forgotten Monday was Columbus Day and, as I tend to do, I was freaking out that, if the government buildings were closed, we might miss our three day window to get married on the 17th and since we were leaving on the 18th to come home, we might completely miss this chance. 

Damn that Columbus and his bad sense of direction; had he made it to India, we wouldn’t be taking a day off in America!

Luckily, though, for whatever reason, all government buildings were open, and off we went for the license; the first step and it was a snap. Sign here, show an ID, and hand over some cash; bing bang boom, done.

Then it was off to lunch with my Dad and while driving we wondered about the three-day waiting period. I told Carlos it gave people a chance to make sure this was what they wanted to do and he replied,

Yeah, three days! Because fourteen years isn’t long enough.

I almost drove off the road.

But the wait was on; we spent time with my Dad; we spent time touring the area; we spent time making sure we had the rings, the jackets, the kilt, the shoes, the address, the judge’s name. I guess we did need to three days.

By Friday we were ready and anxious to get this thing done. Since the only person we know in Washington is my Dad, and we needed two witnesses, my father asked a friend of his to join us. I’d met Casey before, and liked her, and, well, witness this already! Casey brought along her boyfriend Tyler, so we ended up with a spare, you know just in case.

At four-thirty we ran into the Bellingham Courthouse — through security … do I really need to take my belt off — and upstairs to where Judge Henley was waiting for us. Then it was short trek down the hall to an open courtroom, followed by a few instructions, a quick chat …

Judge Henley said the ceremony calls for the use of the words ‘spouse’ or the use of the words ‘husband’ and asked what we wanted to do. Carlos and I said, in unison, Husbands!

Anyone can have a spouse, we wanted a husband.

I don’t remember too much about the actual ceremony, really. I remember giggling a little and giving Carlos a side-eye during the richer-poorer part because I thought he’d say, Hmm, poorer? Maybe not so much.

And I remember getting teary-eyed listening to him repeat his vows because Carlos can be very serious and he rarely gets weepy; but he stumbled over some words, and his voice cracked, and my eyes watered, but we made it through.

A quick exchange of rings — again, that’s them up there on top — and it was kiss the groom.

Kiss.The.Groom. Who knew? Bing bang boom, married.

Afterwards, my father took the wedding gang out for dinner at a great restaurant along the bay, where we could watch the sunset over the marina, and drink a little and laugh a lot, and just let it all sink in. My father, some new friends, and my new husband.

It was all so simple, really, and yet such a long time coming; from the days when that little kid never thought he could get married to last week when a  much older kid realized he could, and would, and did.

Fourteen years down, the rest of our lives to go.

Sunday, October 19, 2014

Wedding Week Repost: An Open Letter To Those Folks Against Marriage Equality

Dear Anti-Marriage Equality People,

So, you're against gay marriage? Um.........why? I mean, if you believe that marriage should not be changed to allow same sex couples that right, then how do you explain how marriage has constantly changed over the course of these centuries? Sure, it used to be only for men to marry women, but sometimes, a lot of times, men were allowed to marry as many women as they wanted.

But then it changed to one man and one woman.

Men then married women and used them as chattel, property. They owned their wives and the wives did exactly what the husband wanted or the punishments came swift and severe. But then that changed and now women and men share equally in the marriage. No one owns the other, and women have this thing called free will.

Fathers sometimes gave their daughters up to be married so that the two families, when united, would become more powerful, either with money or land-holding, or via political power. But that's changed now, too. Women aren't "given" in marriage in exchange for anything.

We had one man and one woman of the same faith marrying. You did not ever marry outside your own faith into some other, heathen religion. Now, that doesn't hold true any longer.

And for many centuries you didn't marry outside your own race. A white man with an Asian bride was shocking. A black woman and a white man, married, was illegal in many places as recently as the 1960s.

Now, men and women of any race and religion and socio-economic, political, educational background are free to marry anyone they choose of any race and religion and socio-economic, political, educational background. Unless it's two men or two women.

Please, anti-marriage equality people, explain?

You say that some religions would be forced to perform same-sex weddings. Not so; that little thing called Separation of Church and State works both ways; it protects our government from being influenced by religions [sometimes] and also allows religions to remain unaffected by US law. The government cannot make a church change its core tenets and beliefs, no matter how wrong anyone thinks they might be, to force them into performing same-sex weddings.

So, what's your argument, then? Seriously, I'd like to know.

You are heard saying that marriage is created to produce children and create the future, but then how can you allow people to marry who don't want, or can't have, children? They aren't creating the future, they're just pledging their love to one another.

You oftentimes say that gay marriage will destroy traditional marriage, but you never seem to say how. It seems enough just to use the word destroy to strike fear into people. So, again I ask, how would my marrying my partner "destroy" a heterosexual marriage?

You are often quoted as saying you must protect the sanctity of marriage, and yet I don't see any outcry over divorce in this country. If marriage is so sacred, then how can you allow people to enter it, and then leave it, so cavalierly? How are you protecting the sanctity of marriage?

So, anti-marriage equality readers, and I know you're out there, please explain how gay marriage is bad. For anyone. I'm seriously curious.


Newly Same-Sex Married Bob

Saturday, October 18, 2014

Wedding Week Repost: Mad About The Town

Well, since I'm away, I thought I'd offer up a little tour of Smallville [real name: Camden} for those of you — and I'm assuming that's all of you, who've never been here.

Camden is the fourth oldest city in of South Carolina, and is actually the oldest inland city, with a population of roughly 8,000. In total area, Camden is 9.8 square miles, of which 9.6 is land, and 0.2 is water.

Like I said, Smallville.

In 1730—yes, almost three hundred years ago — Camden became part of a township plan ordered by King George II, and was laid out in 1732 as the town of Fredericksburg in the Wateree River swamp — just  south of present-day Camden.

When King George III ordered eleven inland townships established along South Carolina's rivers, few of the area settlers chose to take lots surveyed in the town, choosing the higher ground to the north, and the Fredericksburg Township soon disappeared.

In 1758, Joseph Kershaw, from Yorkshire, England came into the township, established a store and renamed the town Pine Tree Hill. Camden became the inland trade center in the colony, and Kershaw suggested that the town be renamed Camden, in honor of Lord Camden, the champion of colonial rights.

In May 1780 the American Revolution came to Charleston, and that town was captured. Afterwards, Lord Charles Cornwallis and 2,500 of his troops marched into Camden and established it as the main British supply post for the Southern campaign.

The Battle of Camden, the worst American defeat of the Revolution, was fought on August 16, 1780 in Camden, and the Battle of Hobkirk Hill was fought by 1,400 American troops led by General Nathanael Greene and 950 British soldiers led by Lord Francis Rawdon on April 25, 1781. The latter battle was a costly win for the British, and forced them to leave Camden.

And there’s the Robert Mills Courthouse, designed in 1825 by "South Carolina's Architect", Robert Mills. The courthouse features a copper roof, brick floors, vaulted central hallway, double arched ceilings downstairs; built to be fireproof, the walls of the courthouse are 22-inch thick masonry at the base covered by plaster, tapering to about fifteen inches thick at the second floor.  The single courtroom has been restored to conform to an 1845 renovation, when wide pine plank floors were installed to cover the second story brick floor. 

Robert Mills, also known as America's first architect, studied under Thomas Jefferson, PIerre L' Enfant, and James Hoban, and also designed the Washington Monument and the U.S. Treasury Building in Washington, D.C.

After the Civil War — Camden was one of the few Southern cities not directly involved in the war — Camden became a place where rich Northern families would spend the winter, bringing their prize horses with them. The town became associated with many equestrian activities, and is now the home of the third oldest active polo field in America. In the winter, more than 1,500 thoroughbreds call the field home and for that reason, Camden is now known as the ‘Steeplechase Capital of the World’.”

The Carolina Cup is an annual event held on either the final Saturday in March or the first Saturday of April, with the first race held on March 22, 1930; the Cup has been held every year since, with the exception of 1943 and 1945 when a little old thing called World War Two got in the way — why they had a Cup in '44 is not known.

The races have become a South Carolina tradition, and normally draw crowds of over 70,000 spectators to Camden. As Casa Bob y Carlos is on the road to the racecourse, we see most of these people driving, and walking, to the Cup.

The Cup has become a premier social sporting event at Springdale Race Course, which is also home to the Marion du Pont Scott Colonial Cup held on the third Sunday in November.

It's a big deal in Smallville.

And so, y'all, there's a little history, and a few pictures of, Camden.

Friday, October 17, 2014

Wedding Week Repost: Happy Anniversary Wedding Day

I first posted this back on October 17, 2009, the first year of this blog. Back in those days there were only a couple of places where Carlos and I could get married, but we celebrated our anniversary anyway, like a couple of old married men.

I seriously never thought I would see the day that I would ... I could ... marry Carlos, with my father as a witness, but here we are today doing just that. I just wish my mother and sister could have been here in more than just spirit because, as much as they love me, they love Carlos as much ... maybe more.

So, next year, when we toast to our happy anniversary, it won't be another year of living in separate but equal sin, but our first actual wedding anniversary.
And who know,s by this time next year, marriage equality might exist in all fifty states.

Now that's something to celebrate!

Happy Anniversary

I was late to the party, the Internet party. I didn't get a computer until the mid-90s, and didn't get online until a couple of years after that. But I learned that all things happen for a reason.

I got myself on AOL and through a friend at work I learned of something called a "chat room" where you can just talk to people from all over the world. Huh? What? Huh? 

But I decided to give it a shot and I found an AOL Chat Room called Gay Lifestyles and figured I'd go in. I was the quiet one in the corner until I learned to speak up, or is it type up? 

But I digress. 

I liked the chat rooms just for the fun and jokes, not for the hook-ups - -there were other rooms for that sort of thing. I was single and that was okay. I'd had a couple of mini-relationships that didn't pan out and figured maybe I'd be the single guy, and that was okay. I liked my life, my job, my house, my friends. What more did I need?

But in April of 2000, I was in a chatroom and someone asked the obligatory "Where is everybody from?"

I answered "Cali here" because I'd seen other people call California by that name.

A few minutes later I got an IM from someone who asked about Cali. We chatted for a few minutes and then he asked me how long I'd lived in Cali. There was a mix-up; he was talking Cali, Colombia, and I was talking Cali California. It could have ended there but we decided to exchange emails and chat some more.

And then he suggested we talk by phone. I was already attracted to him just by what he said and the way he thought about things, and, being the shy one, I was a bit apprehensive, but said Okay.

That day I raced home from work so I could be ready for the call. There was a three hour time difference for us, between Miami and Sacramento, so it was getting late for him, when my phone rang.

I remember hearing his voice that first time. I remember falling in love with that accent. I remember what we said, and how we said it, and how we wanted to talk more and share pictures and find out all we could about each other. I remember how he laughed that first time. And we talked every day and night, even with the time difference. I'd call Florida when I woke up and talk to him at work, and he'd call Sacramento before he went to bed and I was getting home from work. And we emailed and IM'd and sent packages and pictures and songs we liked. 

It was a long distance romance, though I wanted to decrease the space between us.

I told him I wanted to meet him and we discussed who would come where and when and how. He had no vacation time and I was ready for some time off, so I took eleven days in July off and flew to Miami. I know! Miami in July! What was I thinking? Well, I was thinking that I was in love. I was thinking I wanted to see Carlos face-to-face, I wanted to hear that accent in person. i wanted to know all about him. I was thinking he was 'the one.'

We met at the Ft Lauderdale airport on July 11th, 2000. He wore a bow-tie and had a bouquet of roses. He looked like his pictures, though much cuter, and he smiled so sweetly. We had lunch and then walked on the Lauderdale beach; we drove to South Beach and stayed in a hotel because his aunt was staying with him in his house and we wanted privacy. We spent a weekend in Key West and Carlos wore a sarong as we walked through town to see the sunset. I heard him play his trumpet with a volunteer orchestra he belonged to, and I met his Aunt Gloria--who became my tour-guide and friend, and aunt--while Carlos was at work. I met Dengoso, the poodle; Thomas, Scruffy, Sweety, Lady, Voncie, Spunky and Squeaky, the cats. 

I wanted this, this man, this life, this place.

That vacation flew by and we were both in tears at the airport not knowing what was next for us. Moving? Staying long-distance friends and lovers? What was next?

Next was a visit from Carlos to California. And a Meet-The-Family dinner. Of course, my family loved him. my Mom loved him because he loved me; my sister loved him because he's a nice guy; my brother loved him for that same reason. My Dad loved him because Carlos is Carlos, what you see is what you get. No pretense. And I took Carlos to meet my friends and we had dinners and parties and good times. San Francisco. Tea in the Japanese Garden. A drive around Lake Tahoe. Then he had to go home and, once again, we wondered what we would do next.

It didn't take long. We still called and emailed and sent things through the mail. He spoke with my parents and friends and I spoke with his family. And then, it was just clear: I would move to Miami. I didn't really have a job that I couldn't get in Florida and, well, there are times in life where you just have to, as I like to say, Shake the Etch-A-Sketch.

So, where does this all lead? It leads to today, fourteen years after I stepped off another plane in Florida, though this time I wouldn't be staying just a week or so. Fourteen years ago today Carlos and I started our life together and there was no looking back; only forward. 

On this day in LGBT history, I met the man I call my partner, spouse, my husband, friend and lover. It's a fourteen-year-old ride that never gets old, and it sets the stage for another fourteen and another fourteen and so on and on.

Happy anniversary, happy wedding day.

Thursday, October 16, 2014

Wedding Week Repost: A Truly Wicked Getaway

One thing I love ... love ... LOVE ... is a showtune. I sing showtunes so often to Carlos that i fear when he has me committed, and since we'll be married in a couple of days, the possiblilty looms closer, he'll do so because I think I'm Ethel Merman mixed with Patti LuPone and tossed in with Betty Buckley and Indina Menzel.

But, if I go, at least I'll go out belting a Broadway melody.

Here's a repost, from January 2010, of a trip to Greenville for a Wicked good time.

A Truly Wicked Getaway

Well, as many of you know, I celebrated my farumph-humph birthday this week, and Carlos and I took a much needed midweek getaway up to Greenville, South Carolina.

Greenville, you say. South Carolina? Really?
Well, the reasons were two-fold. One, we had never been up to Greenville and we'd heard lovely things about it; And Two [well, really the Number Two reason was Number One]Wicked was playing at the Peace Center, and I have loved it since I first heard tell of the Witches Of Oz...before that girl came to town. 

So, with Wicked coming to Greenville, we were going to Greenville.

Carlos and I took a couple of days off from work, got the sister of Round The Way Gay, David, to pet sit the ShoeBox Dog and Los Gatos, and off we went.

For those of you unfamiliar with all things, or anything, South Carolina, the state is divided
 into three sections: The Low Country....think Charleston; The Midlands....think Columbia or Smallville; and The Upstate....Greenville. Very close to the North Carolina border and seemingly a world away from Smallville. 

Greenville is one of those rare small towns that has revived itself and is reinventing itself, thanks to things like a good strong university, and businesses like BMW and Michelin, which both have factories up
 there. Plus, Greenville seems to be able to bridge that gap between old town quaintness and big city life. There are all sorts of restaurants lining main street; art galleries; pet boutiques; gift shop; knickknack stores. And they maintain that sense of small town even with the new construction going on all over town. They respect the old and work with the new. 

It really has become one of my favorite towns. And right here in little ole South Carolina!

Go figure.

We spent that first day strolling down Main Street, stopping into Trio for lunch; window shopping and just, Aaaah, relaxing. The downtown area is, and I hate this word but it applies, vibrant, even in mid-day. Business folks out for lunch hour, martini gals stopping by to get liquored up before carpooling the kids home; and homos. While it isn't really cool to be gay in Greenville, you don't get that Go Home Queer vibe you get from other southern cities. 

At the Barkery Bistro, where we had to stop so Carlos could get a gift fro the ShoeBox Dog, we met Frank, who moved to Greenville from LA and San Francisco and Arizona. Frank is family and we spent a good deal of time talking to him; he told us where to go, before and after the show; what to see, which shops we should stop into. We found out the next day, at Mia Dimora, that he is affectionately known as Mister Downtown. He's kind of an unofficial Welcoming Committee Of One.

We took his advice and ended up discovering some great places and some fun people.

Greenville straddles the Reedy River, and they allow the buildings to take full advantage of the river, the falls, and the green areas.There are hotels and apartments, restaurants, and the Peace Center on both sides of the river west of Main Street, and then the Falls are on the east side. We strolled through the park, along the bridges and listened to the falls; you get the feeling that you are far away from everything, but you're still right there.

That night we ate a pre-show dinner at High Cotton, right along the river. Two glasses of birthday Champagne; seared rare Tuna with a pine nut vinaigrette, for me. Salmon for Carlos. A wonderful Pinot Noir with dinner; birthday apple tart for dessert with cappuccino.

Then it was off to the main event:Wicked. I've been a fan of this show since before it opened on Broadway and love to see it again and again. While I am considered a Friend Of Dorothy, I am also a friend of Elphaba and Galinda. And riding pants!

This production, the touring company, was really well done; though it helped that we had fabulous seats.

Heléne Yorke, as Galinda, before the Gah is silent, was hysterical; possessing the same gorgeous voice as Kristen Chenoweth, who originated the role. She was perky, and sweet, and sappy, and dorky. Totally Galinda.

Marcie Dodd, as Elphaba--the name comes from the original writer of the Oz books, L. Frank Baum--was spectacular as the misunderstood green witch. Her voice soared at all the right times, and she really captured the essence of both Idina Menzel and Margaret Hamilton; a tough feat.

Colin Donnell was Fiyero, the man who loved Galinda and fell in love with Elphaba. I mentioned the riding pants. There weren't the best part of his performance, but they were spectacular. Yum! But he also had a terrific voice, and alongside Yorke and Dodd, he really creates a vivid believable love triangle.

Plus, it didn't hurt at all that, the Peace Center used a full orchestra for the musical; when we saw it last in Ft Lauderdale, it was sung to recorded instrumentals. Good, but not as good as having the musicians right down front.

If you haven't seen Wicked, you should go. It plays along nicely with The Wizard of Oz, and yet stands completely on its own.


Funny note, though; while leaving the theater and strolling back across the river to the car, I overheard two women talking about the musical. One said, I can't believe they didn't sing "Over The Rainbow!" it's one of the most popular songs ever!

This was after the show, and yet she still thought she was seeing The Wizard Of Oz. I felt like dousing her with a bucket of water.

The next day we slept in a bit, and then had a lazy breakfast at the Coffee Underground. Full on delicious breakfast for two, for well under $20! I know! Then we took a walk back up to the Barkery Bistro to give Frank a recap of the show, and to trade email addresses and such. If he ever comes to Smallville, we'll show him the sight.....yes, sight. Singular. Oh well.

Then Frank sent us off to Mia Dimora, a designer store with all sorts of things for the house. I found a great metal calendar--you use magnets to note the month, date and day--with a lovely pig chalkboard. it's a little bit country, and a little bit cool. We found a great ceramic baking pan for roasting peppers, and a stone you set in a bread basket to keep bread warm all through dinner. The owner of the shop, Elaine McCanless, and I talked kitchens and pets, Smallville and Greenville, while Carlos talked music and orchestra with Derek, who was unloading a shipment of new stuff. It's refreshing to walk into a shop and find the owners and workers so friendly, and willing to talk about, well, nothing really.

We visited the Mast General Store, an old-fashioned emporium that sells everything from camping gear to candy, shoes to mugs. Carlos found a, um, cowboy hat he simply had to have, but, I'll give him credit: he's handsome in a hat, straw or cowboy. I got some flannel jammie pants and a couple of cool Mast General store coffee mugs: Masquerading as a normal person day after day is Exhausting and I live in my own world, but it's okay, they like me here. And, to counter Cowboy Carlos, I got a ball cap.

We continued our walking tour and found ourselves at the far end of town where the revitalization has just begun. Old buildings house new restaurants; new buildings look old and house....housing. There's baseball field, for the Greenville Drive farm team, and I thought, I'd love to come up to a game one weekend. But then I thought of the last time Carlos and I went to a ball game. To see the Marlins. We went with a group of his coworkers, and had a hot dog and drank some beer, and then, just after the first inning ended, Carlos stands up and announces, Well, that was fun.

I told him the game had six more innings. He sat back down.

Maybe we'll do the Shakespeare Festival in Greenville. I don't think they have innings.

Wednesday, October 15, 2014

Wedding Week Repost: Tie Him Up! Tie Him Down!

In a couple of days we'll become Mister and Mister ... not to be confused with that last century pop group Mr. Mister, so here's another one of those Carlos Stories that y'all seem to like.

There are millions from which to choose, but this one, from August 2009, is a personal favorite.

Tie Him Up! Tie Him Down!

Sunday was errand day at Chez Smallville. Carlos had to work an HIV presentation on Saturday, and then we met up for a late dinner at a Smallville bistro we like, so our usual Saturday errands were pushed back a day. But it was supposed to be hot, so we decided to keep it simple. Groceries at Kroger and a quick stop for weed killer and spray nozzles for the garden hoses at the Homo Depot.

That is not a misspelled word. It's HOMO Depot.

We parked near the garden center and went in. Carlos is hypnotized by plants and he began to wander off like he's found the mother ship and it's time to go home. I shout after him, "I'm going inside to get the things we need. Stay out here and I'll be right back."

The best laid plans.

I get the weed killer. I get the spray nozzles -- which look like fazers....phasers?....from Star Trek, and I head back out to plant central to pick up Carlos.. he isn't there. I wander around the aisles of plants and pavers and trellises....ooh, I want to put a trellis up against the side of the garage....keep moving. No Carlos.

I whistle for him. I know, he's not a dog, but in Miami we had a cat named Voncie who would come running if I whistled a certain way, and now Carlos and I use it when we can't find the other one of us. So, I whistled. No Carlos.

I go back inside the Homo Dept to the weed killer aisle thinking he went to find me. No Carlos. I go outside to where they keep the spray nozzles thinking he's waiting there. No Carlos. I whistle. No Carlos.

I head to the cashier and pay for my things and walk out to the car. Would he have gone back to the car? No Carlos.

I head back inside whistling out loud and cursing to myself. Weed killer. No Carlos. Hoses. No Carlos. Plants. No Carlos. I was thisclose to going inside and telling a cashier that I had lost my little girl, Carlotta, and having them page him for me, when I see him sauntering toward me.

I've been looking for you, I said.

I found some drapes, he told me.


Weed killer. Spray nozzle. Plants.

Nope, not a mention of drapes at all....oh wait......over breakfast he said we needed new drapes for the sunroom.


I saw a video earlier this week of a mother literally dragging her son by a leash through a Circuit City or Best Buy or something. At the time I thought it was horrendous. Now I'm not so sure. I'm thinking we should stop at Pet Smart and get Carlos fitted for a leash.

That was Sunday in Smallville.