Home Sweet Home

Mr. Man and I actually got home on the 29th, but the jet lag, the overdue spiritual cleansing of the house (which up until just before I moved in, also housed a crazy bitch who I won't comment on here but suffice it to say had left something of a bad air in the place), a long, wonderful visit with two of his besties, getting back to work (sorta) and a day or two of overdue processing (phew!) really took it out of me and it's only now that I remembered that I started a blog last year. Oops.

Anyhoo, my trip home was a little depressing--I hail from Western Washington State, an area which was ravaged by floods in early December. Although the closest acquaintances of mine to be personally affected by the flood was the cuh-razy sister of my "estranged" sister-in-law and the new-ish boyfriend (who I'm not quite sure about) of one of my besties, and the freeway and most public areas had been cleaned up pretty good, there was a definite air of depression and loss in Lewis County. Also, my little brother's wife (the estranged sis-in-law, who I love--the "estranged" term was her own, and tongue-in-cheek, though I can tell she feels bad for having done by brother so wrong) left him last summer, and although my adorable neices are dealing and I think they'll be fine, I feel bad for my bro and just wish the whole thing had gone differently.

On top of that, a truly estranged friend of his and mine passed away and we skipped out on the service, which I think is fine--the deceased, a drug addict from way back, had fucked my brother over in some unforgivable ways, which complicated the "grieving" process. I'm not saying that we should or shouldn't have gone to the funeral--I think there are lots of ways to say goodbye to someone, and lots of people piss people off before they die--but the whole thing took me back to an even sadder time, when my brother was a junkie and made me reflect on what kinds of chances this guy ever had, which were not many. Erk.

The day after Xmas I flew to Denver to meet Mr. Man's mother, brother and brother's girlfriend. Which went ok, in spite of the fact that the four of them had spent most of the previous six days together, and his mom, like my own, is a pretty tough case. His brother's girlfriend seemed to have suffered the most stress, which resulted in her hiding in their bedroom the length of my visit and saying about three words to me the entire time I was there. Which made for some uncomfortable moments. Erk again.

So talk about PHSD (post holiday stress disorder)! It was really good, after all of that, to get back to our own little house. We finally got some decent food (the families don't know how to eat anything but processed yuckiness that Hillary Clinton endorses) and cleansed the place in our birthday suits, and then welcomed our friends to the Charm by taking them to a fabulous New Year's Party, held by our best new couple friends (we seem to have hit the equivalent of a queer networking gold vein with this couple, who we also adore--the party was crawling with adorable and brilliant queers). And although we are both still suffering some of the fallout of PHSD, and getting back into the swing of domestic bliss, I am wicked glad to be sat on a comfy couch, free of all things familial (except the pet-daughters) next to the best boyfriend money could buy.

Happy New Year.