This is a much more personal post than my usual, and if Re-Blogging is lazy posting, then I hope you’ll indulge me, but Natalie Merchant is right: you are blessed and lucky, and sometimes it’s nice to be reminded of that. ;-)
Originally posted on mister stewardess:
I once knew a boy called Richard. “Richard?” you say, “I must know more!” Never let it be said that I don’t know how to scoot my reader to the edge of his seat.
After thirteen years in San Francisco, I am now back where I started, in Colorado. Denver, to be quite precise. Nineteen blocks from the house I grew up in, to be even more so. When I visit the old neighborhood in San Francisco, a Big Gay Memory of some kind lurks around nearly every corner. First dates, tearful good-byes; here is where I ignored the drunken heckling of a passing mendicant and slipped the ring on my husband’s finger, and there you see roughly where my pants hit my ankles while stumbling home from a particularly memorable Dyke March. Yes, fond memories at every turn. Who are you to judge me?! Oddly, though, even though I…
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