Oh, Mr. Sheffield

And another thing. This blogging from work thing is pretty great because if I finish soon enough I have time to browse other blogs which, as you know, is at least have the fun of blogging. But for some reason I can't leave comments on JP's blog. That really makes me mad. But at least he's blogging regularly. That makes me happy.

Things in Omaha That Made Me Laugh (or Smile or Otherwise Happy)

When I go to Omaha, as I now do at least once a year, the impression that is given is that I go to visit my Poodle. Which is true. Why else would a person go to Omaha, Nebraska for vacation if not for a Poodle? But there is something else I get from it. For me, being in JP's beautiful Old Market loft apartment is like a spa vacation. First of all, JP is just the consummate host. He insists on paying for everything. (Sometimes I force him to let me pay for things but it always involves threatening to create a scene). Second, he's the sort of host who says, "Wake me when you get up". Like, if he were by himself he'd wake up when he freaking wanted to but he doesn't want me to have to fend for myself. (I don't wake him up. I get up and make coffee and he hears me and comes toddling out). Which leads me to #3: he makes sure there is coffee around because he knows I love it; even though he doesn't really drink coffee. (His friend Minogue also knows this about both of us and when she came over she brought a bag of coffee from Scooters, the local beanery). And that parenthetical statement leads me to No. 4, which is that JP has some really nice friends and they are all super nice to me. Actually, they make me feel a little like a local hero.

But most of all, it is a spa vacation because the whole time I am there we do whatever we want. We eat when, where and what we want, drink when and where we want, watch stuff on TV if we want, sit around talking if we want, entertain if we want. There is not a smitch of obligation about the time and it feels languorous and restorative - a total break and the complete opposite of my real life, which is full of obligation and deadline and expectation and responsibility. (Not that there is ultimately anything wrong with that but lordy, a girl needs a break once in a while).

The other thing about being in Omaha is that there is a lot of laughing. And laughing is a very healthy thing.

Miss Smay, holding forth. Always amusing.

The birthday boy received a lot of gifts to ease his transition into his golden years. Like reading glasses and adult diapers.

They were pretty comfy.
They also provided a source of endless amusement for Miss Smay.

Here he is, using a diaper to assist his Lady Gaga impersonation.
Jon (pretty much all JP's friends are required by law to have a name that begins with "J". I was grandfathered in) wasn't any good at the Kung Fu dance on the Wii so he used the controller as a microphone and rocked out instead.

Then we danced.

Minogue, the most photogenic woman in the world. Also one of the sweetest. Provided, that is, she does not receive crappy service in her favorite restaurant. You do not want to be on the receiving end of her ire in that circumstance.
My Poodle...who I love very much.

Emomaha

There are still things to say about Washington D.C., like about all the hobnobbing with Senators and watching democracy in action and almost-but-not-quite seeing POTUS and about the times I cried because something moved me so much.

But then I went to Omaha.

Considering how little I enjoy flying, I've done quite a lot of it lately. Plus, if you fly to Omaha on Frontier Airlines there is a good chance that at some point you're going to get on a plane that is so small they can't hook up one of those accordion tunnel things to it so you have to cross the tarmac and climb the stairs into the plane. Or, my favorite, deplane down steps before crossing the tarmac to the terminal, which allows you to pretend that you are the President or royalty or whatever as you come down the stairs.

Although- travel tip here- I do not recommend flying if you have a head cold. Not that I would have done things any differently even had I known what was about to happen to me but it's still good advice. Because if you are in an airplane (especially a small one) and you are stuffed up from a cold you will probably, at some point, experience gut-wrenching, eye-popping, little-freaky-animals-with-talons-searing pain throughout your head and you will think that you are having an aneurysm and while one part of you fights to keep from screaming like a little girl the other part of you will regret all the Bret Michaels jokes you ever told and then the plane will finally land and the pain will subside but you'll be nearly deaf for the rest of the day.

So instead of looking all pretty and happy and let's-celebrate-your-40th-Poodle giddy when JP picked me up I was red of face, teary eyed and kept saying, "Huh?"

Fortunately, after a very nice Italian dinner (which he allowed me to buy for him because he always pays for everything when I'm in town which is nice but come on now, it was his birthday) and some advice from a diver about how to clear your ears and after we watched "The Office" and after he made me tea and built me a tent and set up the humidifier and I slept the sleep of the righteous, I woke up the next morning with my hearing restored and ready to party.

Ashes, Ashes

Ah, Lent. Permission to slow down, unplug, eat less, pray more....I need the formality of such edicts to do what it always makes sense to do.

This year I'll be praying for 2 friends on difficult journies and hope to enter in with them, to help share the load, to - as we Catholics like to say - be Christ to them. Because sometimes people need that.

For myself, I'm going to focus on being more, uh, focused. Perhaps "attentive" is the better word. Attentive to others, to the important things, making time to do what improves and stimulates me rather than just plugging into the mindless things that divert attention from doing. And I'm giving up sweets. Because I like to think that I'm not much of a sweetie person but I am and I'm still trying to get more svelte for all my big events in May, which now include The Child's confirmation and attending the Carole King/James Taylor concert with MAB. My trip to Omaha is officially firm and a'happenin', which delights me no end. A weekend in Omaha with JP is like going to a spa. Seriously.

So there you have it. I will be making an ash of myself later in the morning and then the season will officially begin. That makes me happy.

Return Mail

Dear Poodle,

It's funny your letter should arrive when it did because the last few days all I've been thinking is a) I should really bust a move and call the Poodle or, alternatively 2) I really should look into air fare because I need a Poodle fix and January is too far away. So thanks for writing.

Poo about the quiche place. That was some damn good quiche. Plus they had that pink dressing y'all seem so sprung on. But I'm glad my dress shop is still there because I. Love. It. It kinda sucks that my favorite dress shop is in Omaha but maybe it's a good thing for my budget.

Yay about Fred. I'll cross my fingers that the next neighbor will be decent. Maybe someone with a rooster. Or a detective. That would be good. There are still mysteries which need to be gotten to the bottom of, if you know what I mean and I think you do.

That Jai Ho comment was damned funny. Laughed my ass of and then went to listen to the Pussycat Dolls.

I'm proud of you for hanging in there with the not smoking. As far as I'm concerned, bumming 2 smokes and NOT going out to get a carton (because, let's face it, that's what it would have been) is still pretty remarkable. You hang in there.

I have my "JOY" rock on my desk and think of you every day, even when I'm a slacker about other forms of communication. Can you tell I'm thinking of you? (Screws up face and concentrates very hard to send love vibes) I love you all the time, even when I can't be bothered to call. (What is it with us? Seriously?)

Please tell RoboMom 'hi' for me. She was so lovey and cute. Is your dad still a smart ass? Tell him 'hi', too. And while you're at it, would you please pass on my love to Minogue and John and Smay and all the other kids in Omaha? They were so nice to me and I miss 'em all. But I miss you the most of all because you're my Poodle.

I have to get in the shower now. I hope I don't drop any stone babies.

Love you like my luggage. I'll call soon. Promise.

Love,

Pumpkin

P.S. I tried to link your letter so this post wouldn't seem completely random but it wasn't working and, as I said, I've got to get in the shower so I guess we risk everyone being confused. Do we care? I didn't think so. Kiss kiss.

A Photo Essay

I saw all this in Omaha. Nebraska.

Easy Like Sunday Morning

The last day in Omaha was just the sort of Sunday I like best...lazing in a sun-filled room with nothing-for a while-to do.

I made breakfast.

We drank coffee and, because we are the sort of detectives who are the job, further discussed the case of the stone baby. JP made a copy of the police drawing so I could do some sleuthing back at the Seattle bureau.

At first we were discouraged by news that the coroner was on a golf junket in Cincinnati, thus stalling an autopsy until his return on Tuesday. But there's a lot to be said for old fashioned police work without all the fancy forensics. You see, there was something about this case that bothered me. Our suspect was too obvious. It occurred to me that there was another player with motive and opportunity. We texted our theory to Det. Smay and Agent JP was charged with following up some leads.

That done, I started collecting my things and then an examination of my ticket revealed that we had an extra hour before my flight. Huzzah! One more hour to sit, drink mimosas and talk.

I told JP that he should probably pick a fight with me so it would be easier to leave. This he did, right in front of the TSA guy in the airport. It was excellent. Then I gave him a big hug and kiss and that was that. And, as I mentioned before, as the plane taxied down the cornfield runway, I started to cry.

The flight(s) home were largely uneventful, except for the part where I was misinformed in Minneapolis as to the location of my gate and ended up having to book it all the way from the A concourse to frakking gate 13 in the frakking F concourse which was 412 miles away. I got to my gate just as they were boarding. That was a close call.

It would have been nice to have had some transition time at the house; I thought I was going to get some. But the family returned within minutes of my arrival and suddenly I was back in the whirl of regular life, making dinner and talking about the week ahead. And maybe that was ok. It is my real life, after all, one I enjoy. And after my time in Omaha I felt recharged and ready for it. A good vacation will do that for you.

Thanks again for the wonderful time, JP. You are the bestest host and the bestest friend and I loved every minute of our adventure. I heart you, Poodle. Now, get me that report.

Saturday in Omaha: Part Deux

The evening part of Saturday was in itself of two parts. Three, actually, when I think about it. And no, I'm not trying to extend the blog fodder. But really, Saturday in Omaha was a very rich day. Because first, of course, we had the day part. Then, after the 'rents left, we had to start thinking about the evening. Except I was very tired all a sudden. So while JP went to the market for a few last minute things, I laid down on one of the extremely comfy couches and closed my eyes. My soundtrack was playing and even though I heard every song that played ("Solisbury Hill" was the first one), I nonetheless napped very sweetly. When JP came back into the apartment I sat up and felt fresh as a daisy.

So here was the plan for the evening. First, we were hosting a party for a friend of JP's. THEN we were going to go to a place called Joseph's that once upon a time had been a place called Joy, which once upon had been the place, his place. That particular night was going to be a for-one-night-only reincarnation event and we had to go.

So first, the party. Now, as you know, I am not the sorta gal who excels at the small talk in the room-full-o'-strangers scenario. The only thing that made me cool about the first part of the evening was that my hair looked fantastic and I had JP. The fact was, he didn't know most of the people coming to the party either. He was doing this as a favor to the boyfriend of the friend who was having a birthday. Capice?

We made some snacks
and JP did his Chef JP impersonation,




which delighted me mightily and then we got sorta dolled up within the protocols of "dolling up" in Omaha, which is a pretty casual place


and btw, I was probably technically overdressed but I also had this whole "I'm from Seattle and must represent" thing going on, which is, of course, to anyone from Seattle completely hysterical because very often people in Seattle go to the opera in frakking Birkenstocks and jeans but What.Ev. My hair was superfantastic.

JP created ambiance which is pretty easy when you have a superfantastic downtown loft apartment.


Then the birthday boy and his beau arrived and then other people arrived and they all seemed very nice. Here's JP with John the birthday boy.

As I said, the guests were very nice and some are even now my Facebook friends but let me tell you that the one who really mattered, not to put too fine a point on it, was JP's friend Smay. Now, Smay, to readers of JP's old blog, is best known to you as Miss Smay, because he does drag. Only he wasn't this particular night. So he just showed up in normal guy clothes but the thing is, I have known of Smay for quite sometime and he has known of me and meeting him was pretty cool. Because he's cute and funny and smart (like I like my gays) and we pretty much hit it off right away. And it was nice because aside from the birthday boy and his beau, JP didn't know any of the party guests and of course the birthday boy and his beau were focused on the guests while JP and I and Smay pretty much had each other. Which was more than fine.


As we got ready to hit the club there was a tussle over my superfantastic spring bag:

I should mention at this juncture that while I have had gays in my life for quite a long time now, I have never in all my born days been to a drag show. So I was intrigued. And I had Smay to sorta give me the inside scoop on the whole drag scene. Which was tres interesting, btw.

I got carded at the door which, seriously, was pretty much happening to everyone but still, getting carded when you are 51 is très magnifique. And did I mention that my hair was fantastic?

Smay paid my way in and then he bought me a cocktail and I'm thinking, "Dammit, I just love Omaha". We found tables and JP and Smay told me all the ways that the club wasn't like the club they used to love but still and then the show started. And it was ok. Not great. Frankly, watching Smay do what everyone on stage shoulda been doing was more entertaining most of the time. But still. There were moments of brilliance plus I got to meet the infamous Erica Joy, who was very sweet.

Plus, every time I had to leave the table to go potty or whatever I'd put Smay in charge of my drink. Which was funny because, seriously, what are the odds of a 51 year old straight lady getting ruffied in a gay club?

There were a couple highlights during the evening. One was a routine that involved the "Hindi Sad Diamonds" bit from "Moulin Rouge" which then morphed into the Pussycat Dolls version of "Jai Ho" and it was superfantastic. And there was also a moment outside with JP when we were hugging on each other and he was telling me how glad he was that I was there on that particular weekend so I could be in that place that had meant a lot to him even though it was forever gone and forever changed.

Now, most of the party left the drag show way early and went to Max, where JP and I had shot pool the night before, and around midnight he and Smay and I started home and said, 'Oh what the hey hey, we'll go to Max'. 'Cept there was a frakking line out the door waiting to get in and we were all, "oh, no'. So we went back to JP's. Which was a good choice anyway because I wanted to eat the remnants of my lunch in a steak sandwich and we had a mystery to solve.

---

The Mystery

In brief: on Friday night Smay had gone to an after party that involved very few people. Guests were, as they are wont to do, taking turns going into the bathroom. Smay got his turn. And he had to immediately exit the bathroom and go to the host and say something on the order of "What the hell happened to your toilet?" As it turns out, when he entered the bathroom there was some sort of heavy object in what remained of the bowl, while a good half of the bowl lay upon the floor.

There were, he told us, speculations and accusations and incriminations and then some sort of exchange of cash for reparations.

But it was, as you can imagine, a very curious tale. What was the object and how had it found its way into the bowl and more to the point, how does someone obliterate another person's toilet and not cop to it, like, immediately?

Certainly, it is embarrassing to do damage to the property of another. But we've all been there. Ok, not, perhaps with the destruction of a toilet but certainly other property. And what do we do? If we were raised at all properly, as JP, Smay and I certainly were, we would own that. Humiliating? Perhaps...nay, certainly. But still. It is what you do. But apparently even in the midst of admitting ownership the "culprit" didn't so much own up as do what was required to get people to shut up. Which of course led to all sorts of additional speculation.

Now, I will freely admit that we have reached the point where the phrase "you had to be there" would be entirely appropriate. But I ask you this: imagine the notions that would spring up from such a scenario. Come up with a phrase to describe the most scatological of those scenarios, say, "stone baby". Think of the implications of that phrase. Then put 3 literate, rather amusing and high spirited folks, tanked up, admittedly on beer and/or Cape Cods and put them in a room together. Think police tapes, re-enactments and "Law and Order". You might get a glimpse into the next couple of hours I spent with JP and Smay. Yeah. You had to be there but seriously people, who among you has ever broken a toilet? And if you did, what in the world did you think people were saying behind you back?

The possibilities for amusement are nigh unto endless. Trust me.

Saturday in Omaha, Part 1

My Saturday in Omaha, which was now over a week ago but still doesn't seem like it, was of 2 parts. There was the day part and then there was the evening part. We'll start with the day part.

Have I mentioned that I slept like a baby in Omaha? That's important because it's been so frakking long since I slept through the night and there I was, in a bed not my own, in a place not my own, in a time zone not my own and I. Slept. Like. A. Baby. Every demmed night. It was awe.some.

We hadn't stayed up quite as late on Friday night so I believe we got up a little earlier in the morning. We took our time, drinking coffee and giggling and listening to music. I forgot to mention that we had a soundtrack for the weekend, a play list JP put together just pour moi, a list comprised of some 200 songs that he either knew I liked or knew I would like. Girls, this is the sort of thoughtfulness you look for in a man. And if it turns out he's gay, well, you keep him anyway...for those weekends when you need to get away. Trust me.

So we had our morning and then we went out because I had to get presents for everyone. Snob that I am, I joked to the home folks that I'd bring them back "something made of steak". Ha ha, very funny. 'Cept my big slap-o-the-side-o-the-head was that Omaha is, in fact, the ONLY city I've ever been in which actually doesn't do much in the way of tourism. Oh, I'm sure they'd like to..."come see our fantastic zoo!"...."wrestle wild animals in front of the Mutual of Omaha building while I stand here and talk about it"...."eat a steak!"....but it hit me, out there on the lovely streets of the Old Market, that the paucity of key rings made of steak owes to the fact that Omaha is the only major city I've ever been to that seems to exist only for the people who actually live there and not the tourists who may come to visit. That's a unique thing. They could market that.

'K. So we're shopping and I'm not buying things made of steak and it is, btw, absolutely gorgeous out. Like, 70 degrees. And how crazy is that, I'm thinking, that I had to go to Omaha to get anything remotely resembling spring?

We walked around and I took lots of pictures and then we hooked up with his mom and dad for a little lunch.

JP's folks are terrific. Mom Judy is a bubbly, talkative hugger. Dad Skip...well, let's just say that now I know the origins of JP's smartassery. They were delightful, telling us about their recent trip to Hawaii and admiring phone photos of my family. We went out for steak and it was quite delicious and beefy, although Skip kept telling me that he woulda done it better so next time he's grilling.

It was a big steak. I took half of it home. The brew pub in which the steak was got had playing cards stuck to the ceiling. That amused me.After a fine lunch, and the last of my souvenir purchases, we sauntered back to the apartment to look at video of the 'rents riding zip lines through lush Hawaiian valleys and then went up to the roof to chat in the sunshine.

Iowa, it turns out, is very close to the Omaha part of Nebraska. That's it in the background.But we didn't go there because I needed a nap and JP needed to go to the store, both in preparation for the evening part of our Saturday.

The Best Thing About A Trip is All the Blog Fodder. Betcha I Have Material to Last Another Week.

Funny thing about this song. I had never heard of it or the artist. Because I'm out of touch that way. My first awareness of this song came last Thursday night, when JP and Minogue engaged in a knowledgable and passionate debate about the tune. Basically, he loved it and she hated it.

Then Saturday night I heard it for the first time. Under circumstances which will be described to you in due course. Point is, he turned to me and said, "Now do you know why I like this?" And I did.

The video is kinda ridiculous and overwrought but considering that I came this close to playing "Sneakernight", someone out there in Omaha owes me.



Lady Gaga "Pokerface"