Still Itching

[I guess it makes sense that, since I waited almost forty years to catch poison oak, I'd do it in a big way when I finally decided to go ahead.]

[I'm telling ya, when you finally do give in and scratch just a little, it feels as good as..well, as good as. Or almost.]

[Never mind. I'm at the point where some of the earliest rashes look like they might be fading, but part of me feels like I did the first time I ever did a drug: oh, shit - what if this never wears off.]

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[Today, I'm editing a gorgeous riff on The Secret Garden for next week's Red Room homepage essay. I have a fun job.]

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[My status line from Facebook yesterday read "I remember seeing Cher feed her kids hors d'oeuvres for dinner in Mermaids and thinking 'Yeah.'" Wanted to save that one for posterity; who wouldn't want life to resemble a cocktail party?]

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[I want to tell disappointed Obamaniacs that all of life is a "faith-based initiative," and if you think religious institutions don't have a part to play in turning this country around (a prospect I find unlikely anyway, but one must try), you're not seeing the full picture.]

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[And no, the Big O's stance on F.-B. I.s doesn't contradict in the slightest his love letter to California's Gayz. His statement made perfect sense to me, and I thought it was even a little risky. How does congratulating us on getting married, even while reiterating his personal (and in my opinion, completely disingenuous) opposition, play in Peoria? Middle Amurricans are stupid, but not that kind of stupid.]

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[I'm seeing the reunited Yaz(oo) next week at the Paramount in Oakland. I thought John was coming out from the Upstate Piney Woods to see it with me (it was his idea, after all) but no, so I've asked Someone Else. "Move out (don't mess around)," indeed.]

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