Why Is It ...

… that I say Good Morning to everyone except those who say it’s too early for my bull shiz; to them I say, 'Get up earlier.'

… that my coffee looked at me this morning and whispered, ‘Sorry, I don’t do miracles.’

… that people don’t get that driving alone is tiring; I have to be the lead singer and the backup singer, the dancers, the drummer and the guitarist, etc.

… that no one understands that I don’t do second chances; 53 chances and then I’m done.

… that most of the time my mind is like someone emptied the junk drawer onto a trampoline and then started bouncing.

… that I am happy being the reason a nun clutches her Rosary when I walk by.

… that when I was dating and filled the room with candles, my date called it romantic and yet I knew I was about to perform a sacrifice.

… that when people ask if they can come over I say, ‘Sorry, my house is in the shop.’

… that we’re often told we catch more flies with honey than vinegar but I can catch plenty out of your hollowed out carcass, so this can go either way.

… that I love the idea of being someone’s peace, but unfortunately I’m crazy.

Why Is It ...

… that I have decided, with a peaceful spirit and a loving heart and a clear mind … that some people can still kiss my ass.

… that people need to know that I was raised with manners but if you go low, I will take us both to Hell.

… that I hate when people hold the door for me when I’m like ten yards away and then I have to hit a jog to get to the door quickly  so I don’t look rude.

… that people don’t realize that the “P’” in my name stands for Patience and that’s why there is no ‘P’ in my name.

… that I am a kid at heart and a senior citizen at knees and back.

… that I cannot help but think men invented arm wrestling so they can hold hands and gaze into each other’s eyes.

… that when friends ask me if I want to go for a run I always ask, “From what?”

… my adult life is literally how my mom used to describe me as a baby: “Oh, he’s overtired and that makes him cranky.”

… that I have a habit of deleting my own posts quickly because I am not the same person I was three minutes ago.

Why Is It ...

… that when people call their pets "fur baby" it's fine but when I call a kid a "skin dog" somehow I'm disgusting?

… that nowadays I run into most of my friends at the pharmacy instead of at the nightclub?

… that I don't always roll a joint, but when I do it's my ankle?

… that sometimes I think I’m reasonably intelligent and other times I click the remote car door lock a second, third, fourth or tenth time for extra lockiness?

… that I am a huge fan of saying ‘You’re welcome’ really loud when people don’t say ‘Thank you’?

… that I feel adulthood is like looking both ways before crossing the street and then getting hit by an airplane?

… that years back, when an ex-boss, pleased with my performance, told me I was “going places”: and my first thought was, “Yeah, an asylum?”

… that as I grow older unnecessary noise starts to irritate my soul?

… that there is literally no tea on me that I won’t spill myself? So stop thinking y’all know.

… that my ability to read the room is why I stay home a lot?

… that when I was looking for the yee to my haw, I always ended up finding the hell to my naw?

Ruminations On A Month Away ...

First up, the header up there is the family of deer that visited my father’s house every afternoon to eat apples, both on the ground and from the tree. You could actually get quite close to them, though they watched you carefully, and were so graceful and peaceful. It was a nice way to spend the mornings, waiting for their arrival.

I was happy to be able to go out to Oregon and help my Dad before, during and after surgery. I was happy that my boss, when I walked up to him and asked for five weeks off—starting in two weeks—simply said, ‘Do what you need to do. We’ll be waiting for you when you get back.’

That said … I went all Seinfeld while I was gone. I calculated how many hours I slept each night and then took that number of days off my stay. Ten days? That’s eighty hours of sleep. And that 3 days and eight hours, so really, it’s just six days.

The hospital where Dad had his surgery was more like a high-end hotel. I mean, there was a lady playing a grand piano in the lobby and there was an actual restaurant—not a cafeteria—in the place. Even the rooms had views, and except for the medical equipment, I might have checked in for a stay myself.

This is ‘The New Ankle.’ In the right image, those screws are from when he broke the ankle about eight years back; the new ankle is where they drilled a hole in the bone and inserted the new ankle, with a bottom piece screwed into his foot. All I can see when I look at this is ‘Ouch.’

Oh … and his doctor was adorable. So much so that I almost asked for an ankle replacement myself. Or, at the very least, a consultation.

I’ve had it with “thoughts and prayers” and am ready for substantive gun laws. Anyone … anyone … who thinks it should be okay to own a weapon that killed 9 people in 30 seconds should be notched under the Red Flag laws because they are too insane to own a firearm.

I’m glad there’s a discernible shift between black and brown mass murderers being terrorist, while white mass murderers are called insane. Shooting up a church, a movie theater, a Walmart, a bar, a mosque, a synagogue is all terror, no matter the color of the shooter.

While I loved helping my dad out, there was that moment, or moments, when I was over it. Most notably the day we were leaving a doctor’s appointment and he had so annoyed me that while I was pushing him in his wheelchair down a ramp, I suddenly envisioned myself as Baby Jane Hudson pushing sister Blanche down a flight of stairs. What can I say …?

I had to return a pair of crutches my father had ordered to a medical supply company because they were too tall for him; he used to be over six feet tall, and now he’s 5’11”. I took the pair back and asked for another size, which they didn’t have, but could order. By the time I returned to my Dad’s house, they’d called to say they had the crutches, so I picked them up the next day. But the crutches were not going to work getting my father up the stairs, so I had to return this other pair, too. As I explained to the women at the medical supply company, I was my usual polite self, causing one of the women to ask where I lived. I said, “South Carolina” and one woman looked at the other and said, “It figures. That’s why he’s so polite.” I laughed, and then explained that I was so polite because my mother was Southern, and my father was military.

I’m over racists in the White House and anyone …anyone … who stands with him. If you like _____ because you got a tax break but can turn a blind eye, and deaf ear, to his hate speech, then, yeah, in my mind you’re a racist too, because you’re selling out black and brown people, not to mention kids in cages, for a few more coins in your bank account.

On that note, Anthony Scaramucci? Your Fifteen Minutes were up on Day Eleven when you got fired from the White House and ran to Celebrity Big Brother. If you expect me to buy that you loathe _____ now, I don’t. You’re just searching for a way to get you mug on TV. Go.The fuck.Away.

My dad is an avid news watcher and so I watched, too, as he recorded all the news shows he liked and watched them while recovering. Now, he was interested in the news, while I was interested in the Hot Mens reporting the news, like … clockwise from the top right … Jeremy Diamond Craig Melvin, Jacob Soboroff, Phil Mattingly, Andrew Scholes, and Alex Marquardt.

And then, in the wake of the El Paso shooting was Hot Texas Congressman Cesar Blanco. Hot, and compassionate, and passionate about doing something about guns in America and racists in the White House.

Finally, Carlos. I don’t think I’ve ever missed someone so much in my life. We’ve taken time away from each other, whether for work, or family business and the other couldn’t get away, but  31 days was quite the long stretch. And we had a very nice reunion, steamy, you might say, and spent about five days together, just us; perfection. 

I’ve never been so happy to see someone in my life, well, except for maybe Tuxedo who came running to the door when we got home and leaped to the back of a chair so I could pick him up and give him smooches. As is his way, Carlos didn't want his picture up, so you'll have to make do with Tucky.

Lastly, the things we've seen and heard this last month? You all have a choice to make next year if we want to make a change from being the country that forces other countries to tell their citizens not to visit because we have a gun problem, or being the country that fixes it.

And that was my month, more or less …

Random Musings

After the story broke that Kevin Spacey had tried to molest 14-year-old actor, Anthony Rapp, thirty years ago, it was announced that this next season of Spacey’s Netflix how, House of Cards, would be its last.

Now, though, production of the upcoming sixth and final season of the show has been suspended indefinitely:

“MRC and Netflix have decided to suspend production oh House of Cards season six, until further notice, to give us time to review the current situation and to address any concerns of our cast and crew.”

Good. I mean, if thirty year old assault charges against Harvey Weinstein force him out of a job, the same should be done to Kevin Spacey. It doesn’t matter how many victims ... one is too many ... no matter the gender or sexual orientation.

Oh, and let’s add director Brett Ratner, Dustin Hoffman and Jeremy Piven to the list of men who have sexually assaulted or harassed women.

Also speaking out about sexual harassment in Hollywood is actor Gilles Marini, who played Samantha’s neighbor Dante on Sex and the City for two seasons, who says that after his appearance on the show he “became a piece of meat for many executives in Hollywood.”

Without offering any specifics about the unwanted sexual advances, Marini says:

“I didn’t have to talk about it because I told them to their face that this is not going to fly, this is not who I am. … If this job entails me bending over, it’s not going to work for me.”

And he spoke about the difficulty for men to come forward because it’s emasculating:

“I didn’t see many men use the hashtag #MeToo. And the reason is because it’s a stigma, it’s a shame, you lose your manhood. When a young man is affected by being raped, or sexually harassed, or touched … you will never hear [about it] — but those people exist.”

Marini finished up by saying that Harvey Weinstein should have gone to jail rather than a week-long stint in a sex rehab facility.

George Papadopoulos is a former member of the foreign policy advisory panel to _____'s 2016 presidential campaign and has plead guilty to lying to the FBI and now _____ and his cadre of liars and traitors are trying to downplay his role as that of a volunteer and a, wait for it, it’s rich, “coffee boy.”

Yes, the coffee boy who arranged meetings with Russia and had contact with The Keebler Elf, Jeff Sessions, and who allegedly wore a wire to work ....

This is getting juicy.

D’ya ever notice how it’s always rather diminutive men who climb down from those monstrous pickup trucks?

Just sayin’ ... overcompensating much?

Oops, is _____ already deciding not to run for reelection?

Senator Rand Paul says that even though _____ is out raising millions for a 2020 campaign, no one should assume he's running. And Paul isn’t the first to suggest that _____ will be a One-No-Hit-Wonder; _____ BFF, and fellow Fast Bastard, Chris Christie said:

"If he runs again I would support him, yes, but I'm not so sure what will happen."

And we all know _____ hates to be a loser, even though he’s The Biggest Loser, so the idea of him leaving office after one term is not so far-fetched.

Now, onto _____’s Little Bitch, Junior ... he went on a so-called “peasant hunt” with racist alt-right asshat, Steve King.

Now, clearly, it was meant to be a pheasant hunt, but Steve King is stupid and can’t spell.

I’m’a just put this out there, because you know who you are ... if you’re unloading your grocery cart on that moveable belt at the checkout stand and someone comes in line behind you, put that plastic bar at the  end of your stuff as a courtesy to people.

I don’t wanna cause a riot in a grocery store ... again.

The One Million Moms—which is more like 40,000 moms—is enraged over the Disney Channel’s groundbreaking introduction of a gay character into its series Andi Mack:

“What is wrong with having family-friendly content that is acceptable for all ages or even leaving a couple of networks solely for children’s entertainment? ... As one of only a few channels catering to children, it cannot possibly be that Disney Channel has a financial need for more adult viewers [but] by choosing to abandon family-friendly entertainment, Disney’s inexplicable choice to move toward more “adult” fare may ultimately prove to be a huge mistake.”

And Disney isn’t budging on this because Disney knows that gay people exist in every single family out there ...

Like this one ... Amber Cantorna, the daughter of an executive at Focus on the Family, a rabidly anti-LGBT Hate Group, has come out as gay in her memoir, Refocusing My Family: Coming Out, Being Cast Out, and Discovering the True Love of God, and stating:

“My Focus on the Family upbringing had taught me that the LGBTQ community were basically the archenemy of Christianity and were responsible for destroying the family unit ... My family and I were always close. We did everything together… So this pressure, feeling like I had to filter everything I did and said to ultimately make them comfortable, was exhausting. I got to the point where I felt like, no matter the cost, I had to be authentic with myself.”

After coming out in 2012 Cantorna was instantly rejected by her family, her church, and many of her old friends.

Focus on Family? Not so much. Welcome out, Amber, you’re better off with the family you make than with the family you were born into.

As we watched television one night, Carlos said this to a character on the show:

Lucy! You have to do some ‘splaining.

Yes, he’s Ricky Ricardo trying to mimic Ricky Ricardo, so I said:

The line is: Lucy! You have some ‘splaining to do.

He said:

That’s what I said.

In other Good gay News ... last week the City of Ferndale, Michigan, became one of the first government municipalities in the country to officially and permanently install the LGBT Pride flag in City Council chambers. The historic move, led by Mayor Dave Coulter and the City Council, was meant to send a strong message about Ferndale’s inclusiveness:

“Our motto in Ferndale is ‘Good Neighbors,’ and we interpret that to include the diversity of our residents and guests and the benefits of inclusive decision-making. My fellow Council members and I strive to act in ways reflective of Ferndale’s shared values.”  

Small-town America gets it, so why can’t the rest of the country?

Last weekend we went to an Arts and Crafts Fair here in Smallville where we saw some very interesting things and a lot of crap.

But this one booth had some cool signs for Christmas, mostly because not one of the signs was actually mentioning Christmas.

They said things like Have A Holly Jolly! And Tis The Season! And Merry Merry! I thought I might like one of two for Casa Bob y Carlos and then I found the perfect one ...

It hangs in our kitchen and suits us to a ‘T’.

Okay, so I’ve mentioned that I find Ben Daniels, left, of TV’s The Exorcist kinda sexy in a creepy devil kind of way, and because I’ve seen him, um, nekkid, and it’s real and it’s spectacular. But this week on the show he met up with Fish and Game Warden, played by actor Christopher Cousins, right, and there was some sexual chemistry. Both Carlos and I looked at each and said:

“Are they coming on to one another?”

We’ll have to wait and see I guess, but the heat between the two—and Daniels is openly gay while Cousins is probably not—is palpable.

Also burning things up is fitness model Eric Turner, a silver fox built like a ... well, he’s built.

Just sayin.

I found three Tweets that  I liked, on three different topics and couldn’t pick just one, so you get all three ...

So ... This Happened

As you may recall, during Hurricane Matthew last fall, one of our neighbor’s trees, a rather large tree, came down, landing in our backyard and taking with it about three of our trees and a thirty foot section of fence.

Our neighbors, who we’ve met briefly—they keep to themselves—actually came over during the storm to tell us about the tree and to make sure that we knew that they’d take care of the mess ... as they should, I thought. I also thought they came over because perhaps they assumed the two homos who lived next door might be pissy queens who would be furious about the damage.

We were not those queens.

In fact, we started some cleanup of the tree the very next day after the storm passed and the neighbors—Scott and Emily—then came over to remind us that they’d take care of; we just said we wanted to get rid of what we could without a chain saw since, as I explained, “We are not chainsaw people.”

So, Scott and his father, who has a small Bobcat, cleared away all of the downed trees, roots and all, in one day, and as soon as the ground began to dry, they repaired the fence between our two yards. It was very nice of them, to be sure, but it was what should have happened in a civilized world. And during the cleanup Emily asked if we could exchange phone numbers because the only neighbors they know are Carlos and me, and this way, if anything ever happened, we could get in touch with one another. I found it strange that they hadn’t met a single neighbor in the two years they lived here but, that’s just me.

Once the work was done, Carlos suggested we invite them over for cocktails and appetizers to thank them for the work. Being the cynic, I said we didn’t need to thank them for doing the right thing, but, yeah, we could have them over to maybe get to know them better.

Cue Julia Roberts’ quote in the boutique on Rodeo Drive in Pretty Woman ... big mistake, huge.

We settled on the Saturday before Thanksgiving and called Emily to ask if they were available, and we got the Oh I don’t know I think we have something to do let me check and I'll get back to you run on sentence. I told Carlos I thought they might not be keen on going to Homo House and Emily couldn’t think fast enough on her feet to come up with an excuse.

Still, we didn’t hear from them until five days later, on Friday night, when she called to say they’d love to come the next day. Well, Carlos explained that since we hadn’t heard from them the whole week, we’d made other plans and suggested we do it December 3rd.

It was settled. Now, as a couple of queers, we don’t just tear open a bag of Doritos and set out a six-pack of Bud Light for guests; we planned a menu, made sure we had beer and wine and booze, and then planned the food, everything from my Aunt Norma’s Fabulous Salsa to homemade Hummus, to baby pizzas and bruschetta and little desserts ... like I said, queers do it up right.

On December 3rd, we prepared all the food and cleaned the house and set everything up. Carlos said they were coming at 3PM but when that time arrived we had no guests; we waited. I asked Carlos if he’d said 3 o’clock or 4 o’clock and he wondered, too. So, we waited until 4PM and 4:15 and 4:30. Finally Carlos called and got Emily on her cell phone.

They weren’t coming because .... ahem ....

Emily had a migraine all week long and this was her first day to get out of the house.

Her children were at church.

Her father-in-law—we invited him, too, because of his help—was sick.

Her husband was out of town.

And the kicker ...

We hadn’t called to remind them.

So, apparently, the phone invitation isn't good enough, and the fact that, one day, when we saw Scott in the yard and invited them again, wasn't good enough, we should have called to remind them. But I digress ...

Now, as I said to Carlos, and I’m not exactly proud of this but it’s a fact: I am a fabulous liar. See, I know that Rule #1 of Liar Club is ... never talk about Liar Club ... I kid. Rule #1 is: Keep the lie simple. One lie, not five different lies any one of which, well, except that last one, would have worked.

So, there Carlos and I were, with drinks—oh, and I made Wassail!—and food and no guests. And there Carlos was, suggesting to Emily that we do something after the first of the year. Once he hung up I said to him ...

"We’re not getting together with them. If they want to do something let them suggest it and plan it. .... And then i might have a migraine!"

And that was that; we have not heard one peep from them since that day. No walking over to apologize for the “mix up;” not even a note left on the door. No Christmas card to plan a new date, nothing. So, as every single housewife on ever real single housewife show has said to her enemy at least once:

“We’re done.”

Cut to this past weekend, and we had gone down to Around-The-Way-Gays, David and Neal’s house for some drinks and such. We met a friend of theirs, John, a fellow homosexual, and a group of us were chatting and the story of the tree and the fence came up. As we told it, and recounted how Scott and Emily had come over during the storm to tell us about the tree and promised to fix it all, someone said ...

“They probably did that because they know The Gays are meticulous about their yards.”

And then we finished with the No Show and this quiet friend of David and Neal’s said ..

“I guess they also didn’t know that The Gays are just as meticulous about good manners.”

And a laugh was had by all.

That’s it ... carry on. 

Oh, except that, once the fence was done, Carlos and I bought some small fir trees that will grow rather large to shield our view into Scott and Emily's backyard; see, the thing we like best about our house is that you don't see into the neighbor's yards so it feels very private. But, after this kerfuffle, Carlos looked at the small firs and said:

"We should'a splurged on the large ones."

Now, carry on ...

Bob v Salesperson

I'm a smartass. But I'm also extraordinarily polite. I think with being gay, and a bit shy, comes lovely manners. Now that doesn't mean the straight folks aren't polite, but, for me, being gay, and shy, instilled in me some lovely manners.

I'm a Please and Thank you guy. I say My pleasure when someone thanks me for something. I hold doors open. I let people go into buildings ahead of me. I'm nice.

Once, years back, I was picking out a birthday cake for a friend, and I was asking the Counter Girl some questions. I kept saying Please and Thanks as we talked and then she disappeared into the back to finish icing my cake. Suddenly she reappeared and asked if she could tell me something.

Of course.
She said, You're just about the most polite person I've ever met.
I said, Thanks. But could you just shut up and ice my damn cake.

Like I said, I'm a smartass, and nice. To a point.

Okay, so here we go: yesterday was Carlos' 67th birthday--he'll kill me for that because he's a couple of decades shy of that number, but that's what I always tell him--and as I am a procrastinator of epic proportions--though not as epic as Carlos who took three-plus years to paint the kitchen ceiling, but I digress--I went out shopping for some birthday trinkets yesterday.

The day before his Big Day. Pro.Crasti.Nation.

Now, to be fair, I had ordered him a new briefcase since his last one is falling apart at the seams, but it won't be here for a week or so. Don't worry, I already told him, because i was worried he'd find one on his own and then we'd have two, and that would just be odd. But again  I digress.

So, I'm out at The Stores, doing some shopping, which I hate because I'm a get-in-get-what-you-want-and-get-out type of guy, but I was stuck perusing the shelves at every kind of store imaginable. And finally, at one store, I found something--I'll keep it a secret because he gets the gift today which is his actual birthday--he would like.

I took it to Cashier--like Karen Walker, I call people by what they do...Counter Girl, Cashier, Hustler--and Salesperson asked if I wanted to sign up for a store credit card and receive ten-percent off. I said, No, because I was paying cash and I don't like having store credit cards with their 87% interest rate. But she persisted.

You can save an additional ten-percent off every you purchase today.
Oh, thanks, but that's okay. I'm getting just this, and then I'm done. But thanks.

Well, that put a sour look on her face, and she proceeded to ring me up, collect my cash, give me my change, bag the gift and rip off, and hand me, the receipt without so much as a smile or a pleasant word; hell, without so much as a word.

I took my purchase and headed for the door, and I almost made it....I turned around and went back to Cashier.

You know, I said, I'm sorry I didn't want the store credit card. I'm sorry I didn't care about an additional ten-percent off. But what I'm most sorry about is that the mere idea that I didn't want the card has ruined your day.

And I left.

Second store. Same deal. Save ten-percent and get a credit card. I declined. I got the sour apple face.

Again, I said, I apologize, but do you get some sort of commission for getting people to sign up for these cards, because you seem truly pissed off that I don't want one.

Blank stare.

See, I said, I think that next time someone declines your lovely offer, you should just smile and say, Thanks. It's called customer service for a reason. Don't take it personally.

And I turned. Then turned back.

And thanks for your help, I appreciate it.

Oy.
No wonder I hate to shop.

Sunday Lazy Sunday

Well, we were going to the movies today. I wanted to see Milk, want to see Milk, but we'll put it off for this weekend. Side note: Carlos, whom I sometimes refer to as the absent-minded professor because he never remembers anything I say, and everyone knows that everything I say is memorable, looks at me and, with a sneer, Milk? What's that? I tell him it's about Harvey Milk. Who? One of the first openly gay.......blah blah blah.

Well, we were going to see Milk, but we realized we had to take down the outdoor lights before people start calling us rednecks. See, up here, or down here, depending on where you're reading this from, rednecks leave their lights up, and many times on, for the whole year. But I cannot do that, no matter how easy it might be. Or how lazy I am.

So, it was get out the ladder and climb the house and take down the lights and roll up the strings and put them in the boxes and bring in the ladder and put the boxes at the top of the garage and put the ladder back. Then we thought about the movie. But before we could check start times I looked around the living room, and the sunroom, and the kitchen. What a dump, as Elizabeth Taylor aka Martha aka Bette Davis said in Who's Afraid Of Virginia Woolf. What a dump!

So we are skipping the movie and doing some new year deep cleaning. Windows and walls and floors and pictures and furniture and dog beds and cat blankets and counter and sinks and and and and

I'll need a rest soon. So, I'll curl up with a book and a cat or two and take the rest of the day off. 

It's four days in and I'm tired already. What the.......?

But before I get back to scrubbing and vacuuming and so on, on the CBS Sunday Morning this morning, they were asking the question about what people would like to see make a return this year.

I said Good Manners.

Others said Black-and-White movies.

More talking less texting.

What would you like to see come back?

Thanks

 

Not to brag, but I've been told that I am an extremely polite person. I was raised on Please and Thank You, Yes Ma'am, No Sir, and I still act that way today. 

 I was selected for jury duty in Miami once and when they were questioning us in the courtroom, it was my turn to stand. Well, it was a narrow aisle, so I put my hands behind my back, and as the judge and the lawyers began to ask their questions, I always answered Yes sir, No Sir. The judge stopped for a second and smiled. "Are you in the military?" he asked. "No," I said, "I was raised by a military man." 

 Another time, a few years earlier, I was in a grocery store buying a birthday cake for a co-worker. I asked if I may please order a cake. May I please have a name iced onto it. I pleased and thank you'd my way through the ordering process and finally the girl left to go in the back and finish my order. But she turned around and just before disappearing, and she said to me, "I think you are the most polite person I've ever waited on." I smiled and said, "Could you just shut up and ice my damn cake!" 

When all else fails slip into sarcasm. That's my motto. But I digress. 

Tomorrow is a day of thanks for Americans' a truly American holiday, like 4th of July, but one we celebrate not with picnics and beer, firecrackers and sparklers, but with a meal we share with friends and family. I have so much to be thankful for this year. Yes, the usual family and friends and health and happiness, blah blah blah, everyone says that. But I am also thankful that we are soon to have a President that inspires hope, not fear; who speaks to truth and not to lies; who wants to show the world that America is not defined by the last eight years. 

I am oddly thankful that Prop 8 passed, because it has motivated not only the gay community but everyone who believes in equality to stand up and say No More. It has galvanized many people, gay and straight, to work together to see that All Men (and women) Are Created (and treated) Equal. Complacency doesn't get you anywhere; and simply asking for what's right doesn't always work. Demanding what's right is what's sometimes necessary. 

 I am thankful that Stylista is almost over because it's like a car wreck I can't avoid. I try to avert my eyes, but then, some diva queen breaks down and it sucks me back in.

I am thankful that Jennifer Hudson has given me a new catch phrase, which I have already almost worn out, "Don't make me hit you with my pocketbook." 

I am thankful for cold mornings and blue skies. I am thankful that Elisabeth Hasselbeck cannot spout her anti-Obama hate speech on The View anymore. She is the poster child for The Ill-Advised Who Have a Platform and abuse it. 

I am thankful for small dogs and cats because, well, I'm bigger than them and I will always beat them. Just channeling Joan Crawford and Christina at the pool. 

I am thankful for...... Carlos Dad and Mom Jeri and family David and family uncles and aunts and cousins sunshine falling leaves music pets living breathing speaking thinking being feeling living. 

 For Life. 

It encompasses it all. 

 To Life. 

Thanks.