So, I'm in Washington. The flight was unending - both the plane and those of the irritating butterflies that had taken up residence in my belly and chest - but Seattle was nice, and I bought a Starbucks coffee and sat and looked at Mt. Rainier just to say I had. (Which, apparently, is a rare thing to see, usually fogged up and invisible.)
Washington.. is good. The talking has been incessant, not all bad, not all good - but all right. I have a feeling of hope, and know that no matter what happens, that this was the right thing to do. I have a friend back, and for that, I'm eternally grateful. For now, I'll keep my cards to my proverbial chest - but I'm hopeful and happy and enjoying myself.
After the awkward momentary lapse of cool and calm at the airport, Bryan and I went out to have a drink at Merkado, and a little bite to eat. Merkado is such a treat - epicurian and theatrical; owed no doubt to the high number of boy-dates going on, it being located very intelligently next to the happenest gay club. The two, very funny, very sweet black gentlemen next to us were interested not in me, of course, but in Bryan's sexuality, and really, hadn't he given boys just a small thought? While Bryan assured them, amid my shouting laughter, that no, he was quite sure that he had no interest, they also asked our relation, our story etc. It was funny to tell it, and they were very encouraging, and the laughter carried on for a quarter of an hour. It was lovely, and I left warm and smiling. And fairly certain that even due to the plethora of new facial care products in the shower, that Bryan was not interested in men.
We went to get groceries yesterday, at the commissary at Bolling Airforce Base. Right next to the Director of National Intelligence HQ, and Naval Research... And all that entirely sinister stuff. It didn't help my spidey sense that it was all located opposite this dark and imposing forest that looked like it routinely ate small children and bunnies for dessert. Getting ON to the base was funny. In Indian, everyone at the Embassies carry these pre-Soviet era rifles that look just about as effective as and not nearly as intimidating as some of the BB guns out there. Here, they have those big nasty real shooting guns that stop cars and hearts. It was kinda neat. So I had to get my little pass and show them my humble Canadian ID. It wasn't a problem. Some part of me wanted to reach out and say "Gotch'er Nose!" to the poor marine.. but some part of me, the part that likes my fingers, said hey, sit back, eat another Krispy Kreme.
(Which, I have. By the by. Like, 10 of them. Because 12 is only 25 cents more than a dozen. And really - lets be cost consciencous shall we?)
Made dinner here last night and ate Hawaiian Burgers, started reading "Travels with Charley" outloud to Bryan. I picked it up at Goodwill before I left, and am really loving it. So much so that I went back to the beginning to start reading it outloud.. but also so that it wouldn't be over so quickly!!
Hung about home this morning, reading and listening to music, doing school work etc. Went out this afternoon to my #1 must-do while I was here.. The Degas, Sickert and Toulouse-Lautrec exhibit at the Phillips Collection. It was.. phenomenal. They had a huge slice of Degas' Dancers collection on loan from Tate London, as well as some that I had never even seen in books. It was amazing. All of Sicker's theatre scenes were phenomenal, I had to sit down on the bench to catch my breath between looking at them. Bryan really enjoyed it too, which was wonderful. I took him down to the regular collection to show him some of the Modrian and Modigliani works that I love, and just had a really nice time. Stopped for Ahi and Saporro beer at Raku on the way home.. and here we are. I hope to get to the Corcoran for one last look at the Warhol exhibit before it takes off - Bryan wants to go, and I would love to see it again.
I'm doing well - this is hard, but good, and right. That, and I think I've literally gained weight in Krispy Kremes. Damn.
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