Category Archives: happiness is

A Little’s Enough

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I wrote fan mail once and I mean like once in my whole life. 

I facebooked Tom Delonge from Angels & Airwaves (also Blink 182) and tried at first to NOT sound like a deranged teenager and then gave up because who cares?  I wrote about what his music had meant to me at an especially wounded time.  I went ahead and threw in a “you saved my life.”  I’d be more ashamed except I really truly meant it.

Secret Crowds

Everything’s Magic

Love Like Rockets

A Little’s Enough

 

As I was writing a chat window popped up and “Tom” asked me for my info to send me free tickets.  It was obviously a hacker, and I don’t recall whether I bothered to hit send on my email or not.

All that to say that as much as I like to think of myself as someone who holds her shit together around people who are celebrities, Tom Delonge was above and beyond.  If I met him?  Pregnant and out on rape charges.  That’s how that would go down.

This weekend I had a mild inner ear infection.  The kind that make you dizzy, really, really dizzy.  I spent my weekend on the couch crocheting.  I was feeling better today and in yoga pants I’d put on Friday night and never bothered to change, I took my bike up to the corner grocery store.  It’s important to have a visual of my wet hair, sequined tshirt with cat hair, and bike helmet.  I had about 18 items in my cart but since I’m in that store like every third day I know that the express lanes are often waiting and totally accepting of more items.  I have the decency to pretend to care when I start unloading my items onto the counter. 

“I hope they don’t count past 15,” I mutter to the tattooed elbow in the corner of my vision, just so I don’t seem like the bitch who ignores signs.  Rocket ship tattoos, it registers.  Really awesome rocke- HOLYSHIT.

HOLYSHIT.

HOLYSHIT.

THIS IS HAPPENING.

HOLYSHIT.  I know who that is.  I glance at the clock beyond his head.  Yep, that’s Tom Delonge.  I pretend to consult my blank wrist to the time on the clock.  Still very Tom Delonge.  Stop looking at a blank wrist.  Tom is buying groceries with his daughter Ava.  I am melting down while wearing cat hair, sequins and a bike helmet.  He’s attempting to do normal people things.  I’M attempting to do normal people things while watching him do normal people things.  Do not touch him.  DO NOT BURY YOUR FACE IN HIS TSHIRT AND CRY, VJ.  STOP MUTTERING THESE INSTRUCTIONS TO YOURSELF  TO YOURSELF UNDER YOUR BREATH HE MIGHT HEAR YOU.

He turns and looks at me.  I hope I wasn’t making strange strangled noises, I don’t think I was, but who really fucking knows?  His eyes meet mine and my face splits in an enormous smile and there was a moment of I-know-you-know-that-I-know-and-I-know-that-you-know-that-I-know and Ava said “Daddy!  something I didn’t catch.”

.

.

The cashier said “cash back?” and I stopped blinking. 
“That was Tom Delonge from Blink-182, you know.”
“Was it?”
“He’s kind of the only person that I don’t know that I totally care about.”
“You should catch him in the parking lot.  I’ll hold your stuff.”
“No ……. I don’t think I could do any better with words.”

A perfect day

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To commemorate Aurora’s birthday, she and took a train trip up the coast to LA.  We splurged on business class tickets, and definitely ate our money’s worth in free coffee and pastry.

We did lots of shopping in the various ethnic neighborhoods that surround the train station, Little Tokyo and the Mexican old town area, Olvera Street.  But for me the highlight was being joined by my little sister ZezZee, my childhood friend Jessica, and the legendary Miss Kendra, for dinner in Chinatown.

And as we left, I paused for a moment to drink it in, how much I love my life. And how big a role the wonderful friendships I have with women, with these amazing women, have in that happiness.

It’s the best party in town.

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Buckman remarked at the coincidence of flying into San Diego just in time for the Gay Pride festival, but I explained that we just threw it together once we knew he was coming, that we organized the whole thing last minute just to welcome him.

If he asks you, that’s the story.

A pack of homosexuals and fauxmosexuals, otherwise known as my friends, drank and danced and picked up body glitter from assorted other revelers.

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OMGOMGOMGOMGOMG OMGOMGOMGOMGOMG OMGOMGOMGOMGOMG *deep breath* BUCKMAN IS COMING.

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Josh Buckman – “So was thinking I just need to decompress for a month or two and just get away-”

Valancy Jane – “Buckman?”

Josh Buckman – “Hmmm?”

Valancy Jane – “Am ……. am I about to squeal really, really loud?”

Josh Buckman- ” ………… ”

Valancy Jane – “AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!”

I’m not sure you guys realize what this means.  I’m not sure you can, unless you’ve spent a summer with this crazy/wonderful kid before.  Which is why you mothers prolly don’t know yet to lock up your sons.  AWESOME.

Tomorrow night, the Summer of Buckman II begins.  Doesn’t that sound like a movie?  It will prolly feel like one too.

Who would you call ….

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…. if you were shoved into a booth with 14 fabulous gay men in varying degrees of soberity?

Clearly there was only one date awesome enough for brunch with my gay husband at Mo’s All You Can Eat (and drink) Brunch.  I think you know who I mean.

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That’s right, bitches.  The one and only Miss Kendra, “Pepper,” “Dizzy Van Damn!” and the great love of my life.  She charmed everyone, and earned a round of applause for fitting the four decker sandwich in her mouth.

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When people ask why I seem so perky, it’s mornings like this that I point to.

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Sisters, sun, wives and wabbits!

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Me and my sister Bug
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Me and Aurora
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Rudolf came along too