Finally

After seventeen straight nights spent in beds that aren’t mine I’m finally on a commercial aircraft that’s making its way to the Bay and as glorious and special and electric as New York City and London are I cannot wait to be reunited with Bevan and our dogs in our cozy little casa in the Castro.

Speaking of Bevan, he flew away for a funeral in Long Beach yesterday morning and won’t be back until tomorrow so I’ve decided that if I land I’m gonna take a Lyft home, cuddle the heck out of Buddy and Ellie, take them to the park, go for a run and put on a face mask to wear while watching A Star Is Born before meeting Ross and Phoebe somewhere swank for dinner.

Then, after I wake tomorrow morning, I’m gonna slow-stroll down the street to my neighborhood coffee spot with a podcast in my ears, order a mammoth iced coffee and sit on a bench outside scoping all my peeps walking by.

Doesn’t that sound like perfection?

I know.

I can’t wait.

P.S. I should note that I am quite grateful for the trip I just took. Not only did I get to spend a lotta time with a lotta people that I adore, it was a nice change of pace to be totally focused on something other than what’s in my head for a spell. So thank you, work job, for tossing me out into the world.

A Near Miss

I stopped to watch Giant Bubble Guy make giant bubbles on my way home from work tonight when I was very nearly maimed by a moving vehicle.

The Matchbox variety.

The furry-hooded child in the GIF above wanted to pop that giant bubble so damn badly that he blindly launched a die-cast metal truck straight into the air in the middle of one of London’s busiest walkways during rush hour.

And it worked!

Hat tip to you, kiddo.

Following the near-miss, Giant Bubble Guy paused making giant bubbles to share some advice with the throng of bubble-gripped children around him: “Remember kids, what goes up must come down. That includes toys.”

Last Night in New York

The New York City skyline was overtaking the sun as I made my way across the Manhattan Bridge to Nancy’s place in Clinton Hill for dinner last night.

Full of wine and stories, the evening was wonderful. At one point after the polenta had been been consumed and we were digging into the wrapped chocolates Electra had placed in the center of the table, Nancy seemed to remember that she’d once made a living illustrating children’s books.

“Just to pay the rent,” she told us.

I asked to see some of her work and, ever the gracious hostess, she obliged.

We paged through the pictures she’d drawn fifty-something years ago as she explained what inspired some of her sketches and admitted to us how she hadn’t liked some of the books very much and how poorly the “gigs” all paid anyway. Her drawings were brilliant, of course, because she’s brilliant, an artist who’s dedicated a life to creating things that stir people up inside.

On our way back to the hotel I looked up one of her books—Did You Carry The Flag Today, Charley?—and bought it so I could tear out and frame a picture I’d seen earlier, because it reminds me of myself on a lot of days.