I ♥ LESBOS

daughter and friend, Pride Parade 

This week, Wednesday, my daughter celebrates another birthday. To know my daughter is to know that she is all about her birthdays. She isn't a party girl in that sense of the word but a sentimental soul who appreciates acknowledgment especially in the form of cards (flowers and other trinkets).

I may have fed into her celebratory style over the years by stretching out the celebration, making cards, offering trinkets. On the event of her 30th, for instance, 30 days of testimonials on this blog.

This year is not a milestone year, but monumental none-the-less, because it just is.

This week, Wednesday is also National Coming Out Day.  Also a very momentous day for my daughter and me. She has stood with and supported me from the very beginning.  And of course, I have stood with her and supported her through her own coming out pronouncement. 

This year is not a milestone year but monumental none-the-less because we need the support of one another  as much, if not more than ever before thanks to the current political climate and rollbacks in protections established by the previous administration

I am pleased, honored, grateful to call my daughter my friend, my sister in arms. May she have a glorious birthday week, a fantabulous actual day of celebration and may all the out voices sing out loud, sing out proud toward supporting our sisters and brothers yet to take those tremouls steps toward living their truth.

more more more 

Day Before, Day After, Each and Every . . Pride

My First Parade Image Capture

A year ago yesterday, the White House and other sites were bathed in Rainbow Lights in celebration of the Marriage Equality ruling. How sweet that memory is in light of the news over the past year, especially over the past couple of weeks. 

My daughter, who has recently come out as bi-sexual, wrote me a card . . 

June 2016 

" . . . . I want to wish you a Happy Pride! Being yourself is so important in the whole scheme of things! I'm happy that you're happy and taking Pride in who you are, . . . "

Chicago's Pride parade was yesterday. One Million expected attendance meant there would about 999, 990 too many bodies for me, so mine wasn't there and because of work, my daughter wasn't there. 

Still, our  

Pride Runs Deep

for more click:   #MicroBlogMonday   

Dream A Little Dream

She was in white; turban, tunic, and long-ish skirt. The sofa upon which I was laying was also white. Not leather, for which part of me was grateful . . . I think.

I don't know why the white or the turban, for that matter. I don't know why I was there laying upon the white (not leather) sofa with her hovering over me blinding me with her incredibly white teeth or why I only remember this part of the dream . . .

. . . (she) is my best friend from high school. She was also my first crush, my twice married, multiple child having, grandmother thrice over . . she was saying (over and over) that she thinks she'd like to "try" being with a woman and would I be "down" for that.

Blinding. White. Teeth (and turban, tunic, long-ish skirt--not to mention, sofa). Well, shit.

She went on to babble about taking time to work up the nerve to ask me here (after we hadn't spoken in years) to say these things to me . . . that I was attractive (enough) and "safe" since I had already come out as a lesbian. She didn't want to approach any other friend or worse, a stranger. . . she couldn't risk her husband (or kids or grandkids) finding out about . . . anything.

She was sure. She wasn't leaving her life. She didn't want to date. She just wanted . . .

a taste.

Before she was done with her spiel and before I could respond I found myself being hustled out the back door as her husband was charging into the front, through the rooms, into the kitchen. Rooted to my place on the porch I heard pieces of an argument, not related to our conversation . . . well, her monologue. The crack which sounded like a fist connecting with a jaw . . .

woke. me. up.

minutiae

Paper everywhere. Not confetti-like pieces scattered about willy-nilly, but large newsprint sized sheets. Someone had placed these sheets in a serendipitous fashion; some clearly to soaking the results of past accidents while others lie in wait of accidents to come.  

Thus was the beginning of a dream, a story, that has since been long lost. Out of my head, my mind, my bones, just g-o-n-e. Blown away into the details of day-to-day.  And oh, has there been a mountain of day-to-day. 


minutiae 


Work has been and has felt much more like w-o-r-k I don't know how much longer we can go or more to the point, how much longer I should go . . . on and on. Decisions about, preparations for the possible next step(s).  


minutiae


The actor is in a play and has been busy, busy, and even more busy. He's come home with stories of the production, the cast, the import of the work. I have yet the see the show(s) (the play is actually two plays performed in rep) but will get my opportunity a week from Saturday and then again two weeks from Friday. I try to follow his example and ignore the reviews but I can't. 


minutiae


The daughter is working steadily at a job she seems to really like and as important, they really like her. She's continuing her education toward enhancing her skills and advancement possibilities at work and beyond. But the other side of the coin, the personal relationship? Not so winning. Here's to her heart syncing with her head toward allowing her to move away, onward from the current main squeeze. 


minutiae


And then there is the rest; mom, brother(s) dad, cousins, aunts, uncles and all the related day-to-day. Or rather, my thoughts and possible action and/or reaction to the various day-to-day. 


minutiae 


My personal relationship is moving right along. She and I are dancing metaphorically (though we do plan to dance, literally, at some point) doing the relationship foxtrot, feeling are way along to wherever, forev....well, we're moving right along. Bring on date night(s). 


minu...YUM


     

The Newest Normal

Having not dated since my break-up I'll admit to being woefully out of practice. Having not dated locally since . . . well, shit, since before my oldest (30) was even conceived, I'll admit to being just . . . whoa.

But now I'm dating. Not dating as in seeing a few people to see how they fit. No, I'm dating one woman and discovering how we fit.  The indeterminate "US" from a couple of posts (and few weeks) ago has grown into a definite relationship as so declared on FB.

A good fit, yes. A good match, again, yes. Still, dating . . .

Dating can be, is . . . challenging. Even when one is ripe to the idea of opening heart, mind, body, and life to another, for another, there are . . . logistics; schedules, finances, families, and jobs just to name a few. Then there is all the newness, the first times, the discoveries . . . all of which can be, is . . . fun, exciting. It is, can be . . . daunting.

It is very, very easy to become accustomed to having good time, to become conditioned to expect it every time out, to fall into a routine and then become soundly disappointed with the routine is broken even for a very good reason, a very worthy cause.

And in our brief stint dating we've had both, the good times and the disappointments. The good times however, have outdistanced the disappointments. And while we are determined to maintain that ratio, there are those challenges, those logistics.

Still . .  I am up for the challenge, the earlier "whoa" not-with-standing, for we are a good fit.

We are dating one another exclusively. And this is my newest normal.

Whoa.







 

There is an "US"

We met several weeks ago as many folks do, on-line. We were both on a meeting-to-dating site that made no more but no fewer promises than any of the others toward success at "finding a match." (Why do I feel compelled to break into song, matchmaker, matchmaker, make me a match, find me a find, catch me a catch)? And we were both out there awhile before our respective profiles brushed against one another.

She wrote me. I wrote back. She responded. And then so did I.  We spoke via telephone and soon agreed to meet face-to-face.

We met in a cafe. Had a lunch that bled into the dinner set-up where we said our good-byes. But in the meantime, we talked. And talked. And talked. Such a good time we had, so much discovery.

That get together has led to others and even  hand-holding.  Ahhhhh . . .

She recently shared: <i>Somehow, I managed to find – managed to be found by – someone who shares my understanding of the world and the nature of reality . . .  

Which could have easily been my share. 

Still, as often as we have spoken, as grand a time we've had with one another, as close as we are becoming, we are both cautious and dare I say, somewhat fearful. This is new, is precious, is fragile in its beginnings. 

And it is everything. Again.   

Thus, despite her thinking me beautiful and me thinking the same about her, despite all we've shared and the eagerness we have for more, despite the discoveries made and the euphoria of the prospect of future discoveries, we are careful at naming this . . . confluence of events, except to mutually assert  that she and I are most assuredly, most gleefully, an US! 

   

By The Light of the Wine

This space, middle girl dot blogspot dot com began March 29, 2006 after several months of my finding, lurking, and then commenting on other personal blogs. 

My search for a community led me to a cadre of some amazing women (mostly). That is to say there were mostly women, all totally amazing.  Many of those visited then are long gone now. Some others lie dormant but available for the random trips down bloggy lane.

One of the first regularly visited blogs belonged to The Lovely Elizabeth. The space she maintained then is long gone as are others she started in the years since. But, she still blogs and is still one of my favorite blog destinations.

Elizabeth, commented on one of my earliest posts:

Well, well...you have a blog. I get to put you on my blogroll. The pressure is on.

Congratulations to your son and to you for helping him get to this point.

Maxine (Elizabeth's wife) also maintained a blog or two over the years now dormant but replaced by two others.

Shortly after meeting on the nets arrangements were being made to meet face-to-face and that meeting cemented in real life that which began in the virtual world. I have recently returned from my second trip to Houston visiting with the lovely lady bloggers, knitters (well, one knits) painters (of pictures and houses) all and things fabulous.

Epic Party!

Elizabeth was my conduit to fantastic beer, kick-ass wine, insight and laughs galore.

Maxine is . . . in a word, AWESOME!

The brief respite from my day-to-day was precisely what the doctor would have ordered had she been consulted. It was most amazing plus I came home with a finely crafted knit blanket. (Repeat: Maxine is awesome.)  Win. Win. Win.

I can't thank you ladies enough for being the marvelous ladies you are and helping me take those very important early steps in my journey. I can hardly wait for the next event that has us in the same place at the same time.

Thank you for a memorable weekend.

 

The Posts I Lost

 . . . were some sweet posts. Well, not really. The first was about dating, or more specifically one date conducted via telephone for she is in another state (in more ways than one.) It is probably good that the post got eaten by a post eating animal, as it wasn't very . . . well, sweet. 

The second post I lost was about my bat shit crazy older brother. I won't express just how un-sweet the ranting and raving flying off the tips of my fingers sounded even to my own ears. It was likely headed to draft purgatory. That is, had it not been eaten by the same post eating animal that swallowed post number one.  

Then I composed most of a third post about my dad (or rather, a package he sent me) in my head. I decided it best stay in my head. 

Post number one made me happily nostalgic. Post number two and the idea of number three had the opposite effect, that is to say not happily nostalgic.  

Bottom line: LOST IT

Babysit Mom

Opening email from the home unit means doing so in full view of whomever may be sitting in the living room. Depending on the day and time of day, that means in full view of the actor as the living room his room since he is temporarily in residence.

A few nights ago I opened a  message with the subject line: friends?

The body of the message was a photo of a voluptuous woman, dressed rather provocatively, sporting a tat on her right tit of a trio of roses. Beneath her photo was the query, "do you want to be friends?" I must have made some kind of noise for the actor looked up from his reading. His response was to merely shake his head and return to his reading.

The daughter chose the next few moments to come out of her room. The noise making must have still been going on for she decided to come see what was UP. After taking in the scene she shrieked, "what are you doing?" turning then to the actor, "Aren't you watching her? You're supposed to be watching her! You can't let her just . .    She doesn't know . . .  Why aren't you watching her?"

All I could do was shake my head. 

Welcome To Wednesday Rambling Randoms

Wednesday. I'm never 100% positive I'm spelling that right the first time. You'd think it be etched in my memory after all these years, but no, I have to stop and think, for at least a fraction of a second, to be sure it is correct.

It is annoying. I do get annoyed I misspell (or mis-type) something, especially something simple or relatively routine, like "music". I discovered recently I left off the "c" on a piece of work correspondence. And of course I didn't catch it until it was too late.
Color me e-x-t-r-e-m-e-l-y annoyed with myself.

Speaking of annoyed, how about coming home from work to find you have no running water. Zippo. AND to find out the water is off because the treasurer didn't respond to notices and of course, didn't pay the bill. Seriously people? Not to worry, service was re-started within an hour of my arrival, thanks to a neighbor's son who is employed by public works. He called in a favor. Otherwise, things could have gotten ugly. Very ugly. And nasty.


Mom will be having dinner with me on "our" day. This is my treat to her. Going out these days is just too complicated and stressful. Mom can be a . . . difficult diner and what with the transportation issues, well, it is simply easier to play hostess. My kids will treat me some other time. The son is thinking burgers and the daughter hasn't chimed in yet. In either case, on Sunday we'll all be together for a bit and that can be counted as a treat.

And speaking of treat. Look at this great tee shirt:
The treat? I WON the shirt. You see, TLQ ran a contest. I entered and my name was picked from the hat, bowl, pot used for baked beans . . . I don't know the vessel of the picking, but I was picked and I'm tickled nearly pink. Well, not quite nearly. Actually, pretty darn far from pink, but I'm pretty tickled. And honored. And happy.

I so anxious to receive and then to wear my new tee.

Check out the site sometime, there is a widget there in the margin.

It takes a village.

Peace.

This or That Thursday

Well, no is isn't Thursday. I meant it for Thursday, but that didn't happen. Where have I heard that (or something similar) before? Anyhoo, it isn't Thursday, but this is this or that. So, piano players, not necessarily, Ms. Alicia, but generally. That is to say, tickling the ivories? Or . . .

Plucking or strumming the strings. Recently, I had occasion to hear a woman telling a story whilst she played a sitar. I do believe it was my first live sitar playing story-telling concert like event. In fact, I know it was. Well, not the live women telling stories part, just the sitar part. She told a fascinating tales whilst plinking the strings. Oh, and it was an audience participation type event. Oh. The. Joy. Anyhoo...strings (not necessarily a sitar) or piano playing.

But then again, it really isn't an either / or situation, is it?

Well, in either case, play ON.

May The Force Stay With Me

Over the past couple of years one circumstance or another prevented me from accepting any one of a variety of invites to experience what I now recognize as one of Chicago's treasures. This year once circumstance and then another fell into place which is how I came to accept the most recent invite and found myself among a throng of folks cheering (wildly, in some cases) the home team Chicago Force as they dismantled the Minnesota Machine . The lop-sided score did little to quell the enthusiasm of the fans. Though at some point, I think at least some in the crowd harbored some hope that the Machine would put together one successful drive. That hope was dashed as the Force had every aspect of their game; offense, defense, special teams clicking on all cylinders. It was quite simply, a spectacular display. Peeping over the schedule, chances are I will only make it to one more game. But, I have that hope circled and will do my best to steer circumstances that way, for that Saturday afternoon at the stadium proved to be a raucous good time. Go Force!

Lez Get Serious

Don't know if Jessica and Jennifer are a new couple, an old couple, or and unrequited couple but it made me smile to receive this declaration on my dollar bill change. I hope they are happy, forever and ever and ever.

And in keeping with the theme, my daughter noticed I brought home a parcel today and in her usual inquisitive fashion (especially around the 'daze) she asks, "what's in the box?" I say simply, "just something I ordered. It isn't for you." To which she replies, "oh, I bet it's some super dyke Underoos™!"

She mused aloud about what (or who?) said character would look like?

She then struck a pose to illustrate the awesomeness of "super heroine dyke" which I cannot even possibly describe.

Needless to say it made me more than smile, it made me spiggle.

Day Two: Cake and Then Some

Well into day two of five toward celebrating birthday number FIVE-ZERO and I tell you, it couldn't have been a better day two. Actually, since Michael is out of town, Dani at work most of the day, and considering I am single, I suppose it could have been better, but it has been pretty danged good.

This day didn't start with cake, but cake features prominently. But, I'll get to that later. I'd like to send big, HUGE, hugs, and kisses to a cache of friends, they know who they are, and I'll speak to take more prominently later, but for now...y'all ROCK!!

I remember telling someone, sometime that I didn't cry when I'm happy (don't -usually- cry much at all) only when I'm sad, but I shed tears today, of pure joy at the warmth and friendship exhibited by the ladies. I repeat, y'all ROCK!!

Now, about the cake. Mom ordered me a cake from a local grocer / baker. And to paraphrase a line from "Total Recall" , I asked her not to, but she did anyway. And as little related to my mom is easy-peasy, I ran into a big of a snafu when I went to pick up said cake. Yes, I had to pick up my cake because my mom is mobility challenged and getting back to this particular store which isn't on a major transpo route, would have proven . . . challenging, I offered / agreed to pick it up.

I got to the store after having consumed 1/2 of a kick-ass chocolate martini and proceeded to the bakery (after making a stop in dairy for half n half, I'll explain in a bit) where I presented the order ticket AND receipt. The clerk / baker who came over just after dusting some powdered sugar on some one's something or another, took the ticket and went to get the cake. Upon her return, the following exchange:

Clerk (to her associate, other clerk or OC): How much dis cake?

OC: $6.99

Clerk: but this is a two-layer, a'int they $14.99?

OC: yeah

Clerk: she's charged for single layer, $6.99

OC: yeah, the lady said she wanted single layer, paid and then called back and said, "get my baby that bigger cake."

Clerk: so she owe a difference...6.99, no..8.99, no...6.99 no, wait. . .

ME: HOLD UP... LET ME SEE THE RECEIPT. (half a choc martini voice)

Clerk: The receipt a'int gon tell you nuthin' see---it say one layer, but see, this a two layer.

OC: yeah, the lady called back said, "get my baby that bigger cake."

Clerk, yeah, so the difference is ... ME: WAIT..

My Aside: Mom didn't tell me I was going to have to put something ON the cake, she would have mentioned that (no matter how faulty her memory might be getting--she wouldn't have -made- me pay for my own birthday cake. Nope. Never.

ME: Well, let me call her because she never mentioned that to me, in fact she told me specifically that she'd gotten a small cake because, "really, you don't need that much cake" (a dig about my weight. Don't you love moms?).

Clerk: You know what? Fine. Here . . ::paid sticker on the cake:: Happy Birthday.

Me: Thank You.

Of course, I proceeded to muss the cake a bit during the bike ride home, but it is still mostly intact and still very much chocolate with yellow flowers and a "Happy Birthday Deborah" scribed on top. Cute.

Back to the chocolate martini. I hadn't, prior to today, tried a chocolate martini. As many of you know I haven't even been a martini drinker all that long, having been introduced to them by my former girlfriend.

Well, in addition to the tirimasu cake, the newest recruit gifted me with the ingredients to, in her words, "make the perfect chocolate martini." Those ingredients being, vanilla vodka, G*diva chocolate liqueur, and B*iley's Irish Cream. She hadn't included a recipe, but I figured it couldn't be too difficult. Still, a quick Internet search and suggestions from fb peeps indicated that in addition to the ingredients I had on hand a smidgen of half and half is usually part of the chocolate martini mix, one even suggested a dash of cinnamon.

I emailed the newest recruit* and discovered that she is not a fan of the half and half. She offered her recipe and suggested I try it a bunch of different ways to find out which is best for me.

So, I am. Today (so far) I tried her recipe with kick-ass results. Yummy. I will have another with a dash of cinnamon. My run to the store to pick up the cake afforded the opportunity to pick up some half and half. I won't try that concoction until tomorrow, maybe.

But, over the next few days I will try chocolate martinis several different ways to find the right fit. Something tells me every which way will be just fine and dandy.

Day two coming to a close and so far, so all good.

*much thanks to newest recruit. She also rocks.

Weekend Wrap-Up, The Story

SUNDAY: The rain didn't start until after I left home at around 9 Sunday morning. I still could have turned back. The bus was still some minutes away. I sip my coffee, contemplating. I decide to go on. I didn't turn back toward home. I figured worst case I'd be damp at the parade, and / or I could always leave mid-parade if it got too bad. But, it didn't. The skies cleared and the weather was just gorgeous. As were the sights, sounds, and sense of community felt throughout the day. *that's my friend Goody, she took the pic.

The parade is as it always (well, the three I've attended) is...full of politicos, costumes, thumpa thumpa beats, and people. Lots and lots and lots and lots of people!!! What I've liked most about the three (well, actually 2 1/2) parades I've attended is the diversity. Younger, older, many cultures, truly a veritable, well, rainbow. THAT is simply divine.

Saturday: The sun was out in full force. I slunk around the condo much of the day, slinking myself right into a headache. My daughter needed her hair braided and while I love my daughter dearly, I no longer love to braid hair. After the braiding we had an errand and it is here I provided the opening for the headache to attack. I took a nap, woke to see USA lose to Ghana and nearly decided not to go to the Pride Fest. Not because of the soccer game loss, but because I was feeling sluggish, tired, and didn't really want to go alone. But, I bucked up, got dressed, and went. And I'm glad I did. It was great, great fun!

FRIDAY: I'd RSVP'd to attend a function after work which I rarely do because it makes for a really long day. But, it was Friday. I didn't have to be up early the next day, so I went to the world premiere of Genderblind.

Here again, it was nice to be among family and given that it was a predominately Black (or African-American) affair, felt even more like a family gathering. I enjoyed the film, but would have enjoyed it more if some technical issues had been addressed prior to the screening. The story is quite powerful and thought-provoking, but the soundtrack got in the way. I also thought the filmmaker a tad too ambitious as the story-line seemed to go off the rails a bit. But, I applaud her effort and diligence in breathing life into her dream. Bravura.

It was a wonderful event and I'm glad I participated, even if it did make for a long day / night (likely contributing to the headache on Saturday).

All-in-all, Pride weekend 2010 was colorful, robust, fun, chock full of a cast of characters, and good times which will blend into lasting memories.

Weekend Wrap-Up

Well, wrap-up is not quite correct. Or rather, not quite now. Until I can compose myself, let me leave you with this . . . Happy Days!

Writing

Happy 2010! I'm curious, are you saying, twenty-ten, two-thousand ten, or something else? Are you still writing (or typing) 2009? I've slipped once, oh ok, maybe twice. I have to write (or type) the date multiple times during the course of an average work-day (especially at the beginning of the year when I am one of a few charged with proofing the catalog we publish annually) so it doesn't take too long to get acclimated. I'm pretty much well into two-thousand ten.

As for resolutions, know that I'm still endeavoring to shrink (more). I am in need of some motivational brio if you were, in that regard as I dumped the walking group (at least for a now) having nothing at all to do with the cold weather, though admittedly, that does factor into my work-out attitude. There are other areas of my life that were / are in need of re-shaping and some of that began last year as well. Those starts remain active, some of which I may have talked about here (or was that only in my head)? At any rate, know that I'm resolved to keep on keepin' on. I am, as noted in my bio a "work in progress." Process, progress.

Part of that work is to focus on writing and other artistic endeavors. Beyond this blog and my personal (actual pen / paper) journal, I'm feeling a drive to not only create, but to share said creations. To that end, I participated in a writing workshop in November with these amazing folks. (If you have time, money, books--give, 'tis a worthy cause). I also joined a couple of writing focused groups and a local visual arts group. One of said writing groups will meet-up tonight. We were given 3 prompts* and we could choose to write about one or all to share, get feedback. I'm anxious and nervous. This is my offering for tonight:

The First Time


Though not planned, it wasn’t a complete surprise. IT was the culmination of weeks, days, hours, minutes, and seconds of flirty conversation, highly charged innuendo and in-between some real getting-to-know-you chatter. Some weeks after we met on-line, hundreds of email, text message, and telephonic exchanges later we decided it was time to meet in real life, real time, face-to-face.


Some small talk crackled with nervous energy peppered the ride from the airport back to her home. Stopping at a convenience store for chewing gum was a maneuver to mask the nervousness that had filled the car to the point of near suffocation, I am sure. Some of the tension was indeed relieved with that stop, allowing that time and space for each of us to breathe, to settle.


A short time later, we arrive at her home where she had prepared a snack and wine chilled. We sat, ate and drank a bit, and engaged in more conversation. Talking, not a problem from day one. However, there was no flirting, no innuendo, but real talking. Real, getting-to-know-you exchange of ideas, thoughts, and even some dreams . . . still, it was clear there was a little bit of fear, a bit of apprehension.


Her query couched as a challenge of sorts, "you’ve never even kissed a woman" said it all.
Though not planned, it wasn’t a complete surprise. ‘Well, there isn’t any time like the present’, was my reply. Despite the spark of excitement, the initial move in was tentative; the merest melding of lips, the softest of touches, lightest of tastes . . . kind of a test.


She leaned into me and I into her in a way to suggest we’d been moving together for a long time. Our verbal compatibility translated almost immediately to our non-verbal engagement. Still, there was a slow build, a constant checking in, a need to know that all was well, all systems go. But once status clarified, the kiss, or rather a series of deep-to-light and back to deep again, kisses resumed.


We touched, hands to hands, hands to face, lips to lips, lips to nose, ears, and fingers. Not to mention, tongue-to-tongue, a tasting that exceeded all expectations. Damn the wine! Damn the chips and dip! Bring on more of that vanilla, tinged with a hint of cinnamon spicy sweetness, that are the flavors I associated with her. She was the richest dessert, the most coveted treat.


Though not planned, it wasn’t a complete surprise that on that first time meeting, we would kiss, touch; hand to hand, lips-to-lips, and before all was said and done, heart-to-heart.

*The prompts: 1.Sit in a public place and listen to the sounds. What feelings do they elicit?
2. Describe your first kiss. 3. Talk about some weird/strange family member

At least two of us wrote about first kisses and oddly enough, not first kisses, but first woman-to-woman kisses. But given the name of the group is Queer Writing Group, not odd at all, I guess.

Honest Scrap: Thanksgiving Edition

This is an award. An award posing as a meme with all the meme attachments. As is my usual custom, I will pass on the some of the special conditions. Though I do consider all the blogs I read award worthy. I will comply with the special condition of listing 10 facts . My twist as the title indicates, these facts as are related to Thanksgiving 2009 at Deborah's Place.
1. "This place is a zoo!" When son moved out three years ago there weren't any pets. He spent Thursday and Friday nights (the first sleep-over since his move) and while he wasn't surprised by the presence of the fur-babies, he was surprised by their (primarily Buttah's)attachment to him. My son, we've discovered, is not a cat person. He was relatively good-natured about it though. Still, the second night Buttah had to have his nocturnal roaming curtailed, just a bit.

2. Maneuvering about the (small) kitchen with a grey dog and orange cat constantly under-foot hoping for accidental drops added a layer of challenge to the day.

3. Speaking of challenge: My Mother vs. My Daughter. ::sigh::

4. However, 2 glasses of wine, 2 vodka martinis, and a tequila/rum margarita did not hamper my peacekeeper/maker capabilities. In fact, may have even helped.

5. A "Happy Thanksgiving" call from a new acquaintance was a rather nice surprise.

6. And "Happy Thanksgiving" (and more) text messages from a dear, dear friend resulted in warm fuzzy feelings.

7. I forgot the mashed taters and gravy. Hi-ever, no one seemed to notice (or care).

8. Though not quite my kryptonite, homemade mac n cheese is most def, da bomb!

9. 'Tis a fact, mom mis-remembers events from my childhood. It was older brother not younger who crashed into a parked car with his bike, suffering an injury that required stitches to his left ear.

10. In addition "remember when . . ." talk, dinner convo included my revelation. I answered the question she hasn't (or refused) to ask. Due to the emotions of the day (see mom vs daughter note above) she was not up to discussing it much then and because of a visit from that Aunt (& the cramps she rode in on) a surprise after many, many (ok, maybe just one many, but still, a while) months, I have not up to discussing it much since. But, more talk will ensue, of this I am sure.

Still, the news (good, all good) is out and so (step-by-step) am I.

Spinning

It could be because there is too much coffee in my system as I've just realized that I've downed 1/2 a pot, 6 cups (only half, because I only made 1/2 a pot). It could be because in addition to the 1/2 pot of coffee there was also the two slices of peanut butter toast not to mention the carrot cupcake topped with butter cream icing. It could be all that. But, it could also be this: That little girl in pink with the one finger thrust in the air, posing for the camera, is my little girl. We were celebrating that day the event of her very first birthday. On that day in October it was all about balloons, cake, ice cream, and fun...for her. Today, as we celebrate the event of her 24th birthday it is still about balloons (well, one anyway ::smirk::) cake, ice cream (in the cake ) and for fun her, but it is also about our evolution as mother and daughter, as women. It is also about who we have become individually and as a unit. It is also about how relate and are related.

To say that I love my daughter (or she me) is only the beginning. There are so many layers to who we are as women today, October 11, 2009.

In addition to being my daughter's 24th birthday, it is also National Coming Out Day and as part of that celebration and commemoration, I joined a movement that utilized the automatic fb status update device. The status update:

Deborah Xxxxx is a lesbian. It is National Coming Out Day and I pledge to have heartfelt conversations for lesbian, gay, bisexual and transgender equality.

The status ran for a few days leading up to and then of course, including today. My daughter took a few moments out of her celebratory week to comment on my status:

Danielle Xxxxx U GO GIRL!!! I LOVE AND RESPECT U!!!!! YAY
Yesterday at 8:49pm

Like I said yesterday, my story is evolving and I am beyond overjoyed that my daughter plays an active role in that evolution. My head, it spins.

Happy, happy, joy, joy to my girl, daughter, and friend.

Four Words

I am a lesbian. Those four words uttered to my son and daughter a bit over three years ago released a lifetime of secrets, walls, barriers, avoidances, distances and silences.

I am a lesbian. The power of those four words pushed me toward understanding my truth and empowering me to live that truth from that day forward.

Those four words led me to wonderful bloggers, women who have become allies, confidantes, and friends. Those four words led me to meetings, adventures, and women in my local area with whom I hope and expect to continue building friendships.

I am a lesbian. In the private comfort of my own home, to my son and daughter, to the bloggers I met (just before) and since the reveal, to the women I've met in the last year or so, to the woman I hold near my heart, to these folks, I am a lesbian.

To the world at large, I'm largely, not. However, those four words, I Am A Lesbian the love and support of my family and friends, paired with my own zeal will catapult me even further.

My coming out story is more an evolution. In the words of one of entertainment's most famous divas, "I'm coming out, I want the world to know, got to let it show."

"I'm coming out!"