Caterwauling

My D.C. friends called me for our annual February “reunion.”

I almost didn’t go because, Covid. But I didn’t see them last year. And I really do enjoy seeing them.

When I went to meet them, I got a surprise in the form of another friend. This one I haven’t seen since she came down here to stay with me over a decade ago.

My friends gave us access to a conference room and she and I talked All Day yesterday.

We laughed and cried and reminisced but really talked about things that are happening now.

We took photos and you can tell I was crying all day but she looks great. You can’t even tell she’s worried about someone in the hospital back home.

She didn’t know that I hired a gal a couple of years ago because she reminded me of her. The gal became an instant friend and I enjoy her so much.

I was right — they not only look alike, but have the same big heart and crazy work ethic. My old friend said OK show me a photo because I want to see the new me.

I also got to hang out with a well-known journalist. And the reason I did was because someone at this event told me, she wants to meet you so get over there now.

She was wonderful. Elegant. The picture of grace.

Really, all the wives of my former writers are class acts. Truly remarkable, sophisticated, articulate and accomplished women.

It’s breathtaking, really, getting to hang out with such high-quality people again.

I’d forgotten what that’s like.

It was so good to be with my people, old and new.

This is what Covid robbed of us for too long.

I still didn’t use elevators or anything. Too peopley. But I needed and gave hugs. Lots and lots of those.

I’m quarantining after enjoying a day out in the wild. Here’s hoping I didn’t bring anything home except a heart that’s a lot lighter than it was 24 hours ago.

I did something I haven’t done in a while on a weekday.

I enjoyed it.

Literally, that’s what I did. Enjoyed my damn day.

I had a long meeting in the morning and a long one late in the day. But I took the middle part to simply enjoy myself.

Don’t get me wrong. The morning and the afternoon meetings weren’t fun. But net-net, the day was a win.

The best part was we were talking honestly about some shit that went down last year. And I got a good reminder from this eye-witness that a lot of it was far beyond my control. All I could really do is handle it with grace.

One day I’ll tell the stories. Still trying to do the gracious thing there.

I don’t have many friends. They always prove themselves to be anything but. So it’s nice to have real moments with people who are here who were also there.

There are a lot of opinions about “And Just Like That,” the SATC reboot.

I’ll say yes, it’s outlandish and dark. But as an original fan of the HBO series and not the “SATC-light” episodes that air on E! with no sex, swearing or sense, I will say that it’s been pretty satisfying overall to see where my girls ended up.

In any event, I think we can all agree that the music is on point.

Carrie and Mr. Big were dancing to one of my all-time favorites in the season opener, “Hello It’s Me.” And we heard the song throughout the 10-episode season.

Made me think of one of MY Mr. Bigs.

My own (first?) “John Preston” also died. Probably at the same age.

I know this because his daughter reached out to me recently to tell me.

Which, truth be told, my heart knew when it happened.

She was reading our old emails. Which, I don’t even know if I still have. Probably not, because I’m not all that sentimental.

Or maybe I do and I’m just afraid to remember those days.

He was in Arlington and I was in Alexandria. We went to the theater and museums and cafes and beer gardens.

So the story goes, I got a job in Rockville and never had time for anything but interstate commutes and way-too-long workdays.

Mostly true.

The rest of the truth is, our age gap felt so big then. And here was another guy with kids — his daughter was running her high school theater troupe and his son was starting to show signs of not being as independent as his dad hoped he would be.

(Um, hello THEME.)

His son eventually found his way. And his daughter has babies of her own now.

She sent me photos of the son she named after her dad.

I told her some stories she would appreciate and maybe remember, of times spent with them. Things I can’t even vaguely describe here without them becoming easily Googlable.

I didn’t tell her about those heady days when it was just us.

Nor did I admit I thought there’d be a better match for me out there if I would just free myself up for it.

We did stay Facebook friends. Although when I saw him go to the mat and defend a tRumper’s right to tRump, I deleted him.

I mean, that was SO HIM. He was in the service (the Air Force?) so hell yes, he fought to defend our right to do whatever the fuck it is we want to do.

But I just couldn’t support letting trumpers trump. And I will defend MY right to do that, till the bitter end.

He sent me a new friend request that I ignored.

I don’t know that we would have been close again.

But I heard “Hello It’s Me” today, as I have many times. And I remembered sitting in the IHOP with him in Del Ray (not to be confused with the Delray where I live now), having coffee and talking about the black-and-white movie we’d just watched at some Smithsonian or another.

He was the one who’d pointed out the song. He knew I needed to fly. That a middle-aged guy with kids and a “lifer” job with the government wasn’t enough for me. That he was at peace with his lot in life and didn’t expect the same from me.

Funny I’d end up gravitating to similar situations. Where suddenly the age gap didn’t seem so big. Where it still might not have been enough but I was willing to entertain that it could very well end up being more.

I know we end up repeating the same situations until we get them right.

But I can’t help but wonder (H/T Carrie), if what’s meant for you won’t pass you by, what happens if it comes around again and you still don’t know what to do with it?

Was driving today, listening to this song. And a not-new revelation hit me like a second car that thought the light turned green but didn’t.

I pay for this site.

I have paid for it since 2001.

I hide from this site so as not to give (insert nickname of the day) any more shit to co-opt as their own or claim somehow offends their anything-but-delicate sensibilities.

Well, in the immortal words of Cee Lo Green, “Fuck you and fuck her too.”

In any event, today I was working on a blog post in my head about a song that came on.

And I was thinking, how to I wordsmith it so that some wild bore doesn’t sic someone on me in the unlikely event that it was about the person who would be dispatched to do the siccing.

As if that person would even give a semblance of a shit that I was writing about them. Christ, they’ve never had such poetry written about them as I have produced for them. They’d be insane not to be glad that someone with a grasp of grammar thought so much of them.

Then I heard this Kenny Chesney song come on. Which, I admit, has often made me think of the one who would do the siccing.

And I remembered telling them I pay for this site. I also remembered my sister telling me if he’d just restrain that wild bore, we wouldn’t have problems.

Heh. I just heard in my head the wild bore saying this is a threat somehow. That I am dreaming up an electric fence and hoping they rub up against it.

Which, put that in your stories. It’s alllll yours. And don’t @ me.

“After all you put me through, no, you don’t get to.”

I only met J. once, at a beachside memorial ceremony.

I was friends with his mom. I hadn’t seen her for a while before that. Sadly, I haven’t seen her much after that, either. But wow, was this a momma who loved her only son.

I don’t know how she’s alive right now. I really don’t. How much can one human be expected to take?

The world isn’t big enough to hold the best of us. It’s like God likes to ensure that the angel-to-asshole ratio remains at a constant 1-to-1.

Another sweet light turned off too soon.

I hope I’m not writing about my friend next.

In person wedding.

Online memorial.

Another death I can’t wrap my head around.

Holidays, man.

I know today’s full moon in Leo can be an emotional one. (Since when are Lions emotional?) But, damn.

I went to the pet store last night, as one does 10 times a week with all the little befanged and toofless mouths one feeds three times a day.

As always, I checked in on Caleb and Piper.

Only … Piper was gone and Caleb wouldn’t even look up at me the three times I passed by.

These two have been in my heart since some twits failed to adopt Caleb away from the brother with whom he was bonded.

Every subsequent visit, those two cuddle bugs were wrapped up in each other in a small carrier.

I couldn’t believe someone didn’t grab them both. But then again, we are in the store because we already have our own zoos at home.

Now it was Piper with the unusual markings who has a new home, and sweet Caleb was without someone to love in a cold cage under bright lights.

I tell my good kitties Cocoa and Bella to be grateful that Magic is such a handful. Because I love me a good gray kitty and I would have plunked down whatever it takes to give him a home.

Seriously, who breaks up bonded pairs? Who LETS them? Is it the rescue that sponsors them? Is it the kids who run the store? Or am I just too sensitive and we should be grateful that at least one has humans to call his own?

Everything I’ve seen so far this season looks funereal in comparison to this compilation.

I wonder why? Oh wait.

I figured folx would be enjoying this beautiful weekend.

Turns out they’re scouring the intarwebz, trying to find threats in sincere observations that they scold everyone then make dumb decisions of their own.

The sad part is they will claim their delicate constitutions are under verbal siege. And they will be taken at their word salad.

Go fly a kite. Or ride a bike. And try not to read into yet another sincere wish that you simply go 15 minutes without saying something a normal human would regret.

Sometimes people spout “what goes around, comes around” to remind themselves and others to behave.

That’s so base.

I’ve always said that what goes around kicks someone else in the ass who doesn’t deserve it.

I knew a guy named Jimmy. The man might have had five grandmothers. At least, judging by the five times he said he couldn’t make it to a function because his grandmother died.

That sleazy shitbag just lost his brother. A guy so beloved that there are newspaper articles written about him in two states right now.

Jimmy probably isn’t smart enough to think about how no one would miss him after all the dastardly shit he did.

But I know.

There was a terrible episode of “My 600-Pound Life” on last night. Lisa E. She whined and complained and martyred herself. Yet Dr. Now kissed her oversized ass in a way he doesn’t do with people who are COMMITTED to and SUCCESSFUL with their weight-loss journey.

I felt particularly bad for Lisa’s boyfriend Randy. I could tell within two minutes of watching the show that her shitty karma would be the end of him.

Randy caught Covid — I imagine that was from running to the grocery store to buy cases of pop and chips and cookies for her. And he died from its complications. Meanwhile she got Covid and lost 127 pounds.

Bitch.

Randy was a sad figure too because he was on oxygen and he had to sleep on the corner of their full bed with no sheets. She took up 3/4 of the bed.

He always curled up fully clothed on that cruddy bare mattress in their one-room house. It was a heartbreak and a mindfuck.

It never occurred to Lisa that her absolute shit personality was going to be the end of him.

There’s someone else whose viciousness is going to bring some not-so-good fortune to someone. And like Lisa E., they will hoist their ass on the cross and cry victim.

There was a person who said I wished for their death. They also said I criticized their mother.

Which … never once did I say anything about anything terrible befalling them. In public OR private.

I do not know where this evidence is, by the way — I asked to see it. Because I don’t tempt fate like that. And they know it.

No one ever produced it. Go figure.

I know that my actions stand to affect the person most important to me … NOT me.

So this person should be warned that this whole “I’m rubber, you’re glue” shit doesn’t mean it will stick to them, but rather go hurtling like a meteor at someone far more pure.

In any event, RIP “D.” One of three heart attacks in our extended circle in the last couple weeks. You deserved better.

Most of the great ones do.