Tuna in Tunis, Tunisia (say it 10 times fast...)

In Tunisia ,,,,,rode a camel on the beach today. His name? Omar Sharif! His owner is Ramsey, a Muslim hot daddy. Ate fresh-caught tuna, yes, Tuna in Tunisia, and tons of local olives. Taught the Muslim men how to say okey-dokey. Having an amazing trip but miss all my friends and my pup, and yes taking lots of photos that I'll post SOON!

Just Visiting!

Day two of my trip, visiting my wonderful sister and her family in Houston.

Their neighborhood bears a striking resemblance to a place called Stepford; 

The houses are white.

The SUVs (is there anything else?) are white.

The people are white.

I got here Wednesday and someone came to blow the leaves off their driveway. Now it's Friday and they've come again. Wouldn't want those pesky leaves to accumulate now, would we?

In this community, called Champion's Forest;

The children are perfect.

The yards are perfect.

The hair is perfect.

The boobs are perfect.

Uncle Nice Guy is playing gay nanny to his two adorable nieces. He drives the white Texas Tahoe that gets what?, eight miles to the gallon?, to pick them up at soccer practice. To his 44-year-old brain it's all just so confusing; private school carpool, baton twirling camp, the whole suburban scene, but they're great kids.

Yesterday one of the girls came home traumatized because her friend's mom looked 'all horrible and weird.' My sister did some discreet asking around, to discover that the woman, still in her forties, had merely had an extreme facelift. No, it wasn't the swelling and bruising that scared my niece—that had already receded—it was the end product. Oh well...

Tonight, while sister and her husband have a date night, my nieces and I have big plans; I'll teach them to bake chocolate chip cookies and we'll settle in to watch Beverly Hills Chihuahua. They're too young for The Stepford Wives. 

Update: Project Runway has been substituted. Nothing like a little gay TV. Hope the neighborhood association doesn't find out. 

Unexpected events

Mr. Nice Guy is off on an exotic working vacation to Paris and Tunisia... volcano willing!
Honey, silica ash clouds are SUCH a drag. But volcanos are kinda hot...

The Ring and I

I love to travel, but recently, at the airport and on the plane I kept noticing everyone's wedding rings, which kinda made me sad. I have several rings from past relationships, and I remember the pride of wearing one; that little symbol that says; 'Someone values and adores me—or better yet—puts up with me.'

Just as I was getting to the edge of weepy, I pulled myself together, thinking, 'No, rings are just a stupid symbol!,' but that didn't make me feel better for long, so I started to ponder what I could do about the rang thang. My ideas were as varied as my moods, from sincere to wickedly playful, and back again.

I could pull out one of my old rings and wear it. They are all beautiful, and rich with the meaning and memories of someone special who gave them to me. But those bonds are broken now.

My inner Scarlett O'Hara whispered in my ear; instead of wearing those old rings Honey, you're gonna melt them down, have a tiara made from them and wear it to parties, kinda like your own set of antlers or hunting trophy.

I could melt them down into a little stautette, with a jeweled collar and leash. Kinda like an Oscar but  it will be a 'Mister' for best supporting husband in a dramatic role. Then I can give a speech and thank the academy of exs for all brutal lessons about life and love they have given me. OK, a bit bitter...

My brain was spinning. I could sell the lot on ebay, then buy my own, more gorgeous than the rest, and wear it proudly until someone suitable replaces it.' And if anyone says, 'Nice ring! You're so lucky to be loved.' the answer will be, "Yes, I am!" meaning that I still want to hear wedding bells, but until then I will share my abundance of love with friends and family, and first and foremost, with myself.

Meanwhile, I bought myself a string of fresh-water pearls, each born of agitation, imperfect but glowing, a lovely reminder of the beauty of life and love.

Roller Coaster

Life is supposed to be like a rollercoaster, sometimes you scream and hold on for dear life, sometimes you put your hands up, but the best way to ride is open your eyes, lean into the curbs and smile when you go by the camera.

One week up, one week down; it's just part of being human. I'm so glad I chant. I am much more compassionate to my fellow humans, and less affected by life's hardships and drama.

cheers 

Mood Indigo

Usually Mr. Nice guy is a ball of energy, and as optimistic as a dog sitting expectantly at the cookie jar, but today I must admit to being a bit on the blue end of the spectrum. So nice of Portland to mirror my mood by cooking up a gloomy-gus-of-a-day, with stormy skies and constant drizzle.

I've been in this town for exactly one year now, and although I've made some great friends and love it here, it doesn't quite feel like home yet. And then I realized that it's also just a year since my father died unexpectedly. No wonder the blue funk is sitting on my head!

I'll get up and out, and this will pass, but meanwhile, if you're willing, it would be so nice to hear a few words from anyone passing by my little cyber-neighborhood. Leaving a little comment would really go a long way towards cheering me up.