Road Trip

I finally finished my driving lessons and now have my permit. Idiots, what were they thinking? The picnic hamper is bought. So tomorrow morning we pick up the rental car and off to Scotland to celebrate our anniversary we go.

It’s an 8 hour drive but we’re taking two days to stop along the way. We have to stop in Blackpool to ride their 13, yes; I said 13 roller coasters at Pleasure Beach. Then we will spend the weekend in Portpatrick, Scotland. If you happen to be on any of these UK motorways this weekend for God’s sake give me plenty of room.

... Must drive on the left. ... Must drive on the left.

Remembrance of things past

I always liked the idea that BC was 5 years older than I. It was one of the things that attracted me to him when we first met. He hit his decades first and it always seemed to pave the way for me. I was excited about my thirties and forties because I had experienced them already when he turned those ages. As he got older the age difference occasionally bothered him. And I have to admit if provoked I whipped out the age difference and clobbered him with it. Many an argument ended with the phrase "Maybe so, but I will always be 5 years younger than you ... always."

This was supposed to be a seminal year. BC would have turned 60. He hated the idea and of course I loved it. I really started kidding him about his age once he turned 50. I would tell him I couldn't wait to turn 55. The inference was he would be 60.

As his birthday approached this August I thought about it a lot. We had talked about it many times. I wondered how we would have celebrated it if he had lived. I'm sure I would have done something really special for him. Then something happened that I thought would never happen.

August 8th came and went and I forget it completely.

I remember thinking about it on the 5th or 6th. Then the next thing I know it was the 13th. 5 days later I finally remembered. I have no idea what it means. I think it's odd but I haven't questioned it too much. When I told Dark about it he just hugged me tight and said it was ok. He felt BC wouldn't mind.

And that's when I decided that was my gift to BC - no acknowledgement what so ever. I think he would have liked that. As much as he hated the thought of turning 60 he probably got a kick that I forgot. So that's your gift, BC. And something tells me you'll get a bigger kick now that I will turn 60 before you.

Foiling terrorists

Yesterday morning we watched the news about the airplane bomb plot and started talking about our plans to fly back to LA. We were eating breakfast with the newspapers spread around us. I was reading the Telegraph, Dark was reading Metro … (in LA it’s me with the NY and LA Times and Dark with Variety). Opposites attract you know.

Bf: This has nothing to do with terrorists. It’s a plot by the liquor industry to boost sales. I mean if we have to be at the airport 3 hours early you’ll just be drinking for 3 hours. Profits are gonna soar I tell ya.
Me: Fuck you.
Bf: Time for that later. Right now we need to decide what to do about the flight home.
Me: What’s to decide?
Bf: I might want to call Cunard instead..
Me: Huh?
Bf: You can’t expect me to endure that entire flight without hair product.

That’s when my mouthful of bacon and eggs spewed across the table because his hair looked something like this:

His unruly mop of hair is something I love about him. As a child of the sixties (alright, a child of the fifties. now hush.) I like longer hair on a guy. God bless the hippie movement for liberating men from the number 2 blade. And now the concentration look is back. I know. I know. – I wear my hair short but I have to. I have bad hair that has to be tortured to look decent. No way in the world I could have longer hair and just wash it, comb it, and let it dry naturally like the bf. I was a slave to the hair dryer and hair product most of my adult life. Good thing I don’t use them now or I wouldn’t get on the plane. Forget about putting them in a checked suitcase. I have suitcases still circling Borneo from former flights. If I’m crashing into the Atlantic I’m crashing with great hair.

Me: Forget the QMII. Just wear a ball cap. I'm not letting the terrorists win.
Bf: You’re brilliant.
silence
Bf: Ok, we can fuck now.