It’s funny how things turn out, so very different than how you always thought they would be. I always thought I’d have a big white wedding. I think most girls who grew up in the 50′s and 60′s thought the very same thing. (Instead I got married wearing a purple leotard in front of a J.P.). It’s funny what makes me happy now. Never in my wildest years did I think one phone call from a non-family member could make me smile so much. (Winning the lottery, excepted of course).

You know what my phone call was? I got all my lab results back and they were great! Everything was in the good range, with my triglycerides at 54. Only 54! I was thrilled. You would’ve thought I’d won the lottery. I never even thought about my “blood profile” until I hit 50. Sorry, that’s wrong. I did when I was pregnant. Other than those times though I never gave it a second thought.

I told Brett my good news. He looked at me like the RCA dog. I’m happy to report however at this time, I’ve still been able to hold complete decrepitude at bay.  I have yet to take pleasure at having a successful “movement”. I truly believe that when one finds joy in that, (other than while recovering from a stomach bug), that you’ve slipped in the Twilight Zone. If I keep doing this blog long enough, I may well get to that point.

Anyway, as Scarlett says, “Tomorrow is another day.” I’m hoping for something a little more mainstream to make me smile me tomorrow. (Nothing medical, at least). Winning the lottery would do it. Of course, it’s only at 5 million now, so I’d have to be frugal, but I guess I could handle that. I’ll let you know if I win. Today’s trivia answer- Fear of or contempt for women.

I noticed for awhile now that in my house the pleases and the thank-yous have become few and far between. (At least the ones headed in my direction.) When I was young I was always taught that everybody got a please and thank you every time no matter what the question or situation. If I was at a friend’s house for a sleepover and their mom handed me a moldy piece of moose meat for dinner my response would’ve been “Thank you.” My mom taught me that whatever what I was given by an adult, that had better be my response. I never actually had a severed head served to me when I was little. However, my mom had that response so deeply ingrained in me I”m sure my response would’ve been “Thank you.”

It seems to me that most of the time now, I am summoned now by my husband. I’m not really asked if I can do something. It’s not really a question anymore, it’s more of a command- “Check on this” or “See if you can find that.” Then whenever whatever has been done and he’s told about it I get nada,  no “Thank-you” or “Good job.” Now in his defense, Doug is a really nice guy. He helps cook, clean, do laundry and the dishes. If he’s cooked a meal, he always sees that I’m served before he is. He’s a very generous person both financially and in more “personal” ways.  He still opens doors for me when we’re out. I don’t want to paint him like some knuckle-dragging troglodyte.

However, I just miss the pleases and the thank-yous. I know he still uses the words. I hear him use them when he’s talking to other people. So why don’t I get them as well? When I mentioned this to him this morning he actually said he didn’t know what I was talking about. He was clueless (or so he said) that this had been going on awhile. I explained to him again then for about the 4K time that what happens between us later that night is determined by how my day went. He looked at me with a puzzled expression and said “Really?”

If I’m in the kitchen and he’s in our home office, AKA the extra bedroom, and I call to him, without fail the response I get is “Whaaaaat?” He sounds like an annoyed Burgess Meredith when he played the Penguin in Batman. (It’s this really nasally sound that doesn’t really sound like Doug at all.) He does it so frequently now that even Amanda and Nate kid him about it when they hear it. I’m not expecting him to act like Sir Walter Raleigh and throw his cape down in front of me for every puddle I encounter. Nor would I want him to pick me up and carry me across. (If he did that, then he’d need a truss afterwards.) But are the those words just too much to expect when you’ve been married this long? Is anybody else going through this too? I’d love to know.

The salespeople working for the builder usually worked out of the garage of one of the model homes. It was converted to a large office with two desks and assorted chairs. The salespeople hated to see Doug come through the door because that meant one of them was being fired. Genex Homes had a lot of spec houses on the ground that they needed sold-fast. They offered a trip to Hawaii for the person with the most closings that month. He kicked it into high gear and was scheduled to close 11.

Back then, it was not uncommon for people to use “gift” funds from a relative for part of their down payment. One afternoon, just before closing our buyer said that his gift  funds were not coming. No wait-they were coming, but they’d been delayed. This house had many upgrades in it and it had to close and fund today-No ifs ands or buts. This was the early 80′s in Houston. It wasn’t uncommon for people who bought big homes to move into their new homes and find a new Cadillac in the garage with the pink slip in the glovebox- courtesy of the builder. Doug’s buyer was $1200 short that day. In spite of my protests, Doug loaned him the money with a  promise he’d get it back that next week. It’s only been 25 years now. I know he’ll come through with it. Doug said so. (This was  number 1.)

About 20 years ago Doug started building custom homes. He handled sales and initial design. His partner, who we’ll call “Bob” was in charge of the financial end of the business- paying the trades, the vendors, dealing with the title company- basically all the stuff Doug didn’t want to deal with. The business was started on a handshake. During the last three months of the company Doug didn’t take a dime from the company. He said something didn’t feel right to him so we lived off our savings. If there was something shady going on he didn’t want to be accused. As soon as he had time he was going to take the books to an accountant to get things straight. Then he’d go from there.

Not a week after that talk with me, Doug’s mom called. His dad was being put in hospice. We left the next day and were with him the last 10 days of his life. Watching his dad die of lung cancer saved Doug’s life. It was the worst thing I have ever seen, but Doug quit smoking, thank God. On Easter day we were back home and went to Bob’s house to see what had been going on. He hadn’t been answering the phone.

Surprise, surprise, surprise! There was a moving van there! Bob walked out and proceeded to tell us that he closed the three homes that were due to close in another month. The gist of the conversation was like this- “Yes, I closed those homes. They funded and I have the money. You’ll never get a dime. ***you!” Doug stood there with a stunned look on his face, saying nothing at first. I went crazy and kicked him hard in “that very special part of a man’s body.” He fell to the ground rolling around and yelling “Call 911. ” I laughed. EMS never showed. ( I probably made his special part much bigger and didn’t even use Extenze.) Since it was all done on a handshake Doug was without options. (This was #2.) This hurt big time. It was $35K.

Fast forward twenty years. Our next door neighbor is in a bind. She’s an ICU nurse whose house was falling down around her ears.  Having built homes, Doug told her that he could help. I printed an estimate for her to sign before starting. In rode Doug on his white horse. “No need for that. She makes good money,” I’m told. Doug and Nate work together, replacing one side of her house with Hardiplank, then totally redoing the front bathroom. I patch and paint her front bedroom and hallway. (Thank God she at least bought all the materials.) So far, she has paid just over $1000 for all that work. Her house just went into foreclosure. (This would be #3.)

My mother-in-law has never mentioned to me that Doug was dropped on his head when he was an infant. ( Perhaps that might explain his inability to learn from past experiences. ) So what else could it be? My guess is that this is part of the “worse” that’s mentioned in wedding vows. Oh well, life goes on..

Yesterday I spoke to friend in San Fransisco. I’ve known him for almost 30 years. I knew him before I met Doug. When I met Billy I had never known a gay person before. The Houston area 30 years ago wasn’t the most progressive and openly accepting of the gay lifestyle. I really didn’t know what to expect. I didn’t know if he’d open the door wearing a turban and dangly earrings or what. It’s amazing how idiotic your expectations can be. When he opened the door he was just a “regular” looking guy, no fake eyelashes or exaggerated movements. He was wearing a caftan, which on him didn’t seem altogether odd. It did seem odd though that he was introduced to me as “Wanda Lamont.”

I later realized that he used that name in the phone book. If his phone rang and someone left a message for Miss Lamont he knew it was a telemarketer. If he answered the phone and they asked for her he’d come out with this horribly affected high-pitched voice and say that they had the wrong number, she didn’t have this number any more. It was actually pretty smart I decided. Over the years though he’s still Wanda to me. That’s still how he’s in my cell phone.

I met Wanda after I had just gotten out of a long-term relationship. My self-esteem was zero. We became fast friends and spent quite a lot of time together. He worked at his dad’s steel company which had a 4 day work week. I was an art director so I pretty much set my own schedule. Our partying would begin Thursday and go until Sunday afternoon. Although I had been a bartender while at UT, I never really drank much back then. Wanda liked to drink scotch and dance. It was 1978. Disco was king. I was self-conscious and needed to drink to loosen up back then before I could dance. I never really liked the taste of booze so I wanted to drink as little as possible and still get a buzz. So I drank 151 proof daiquiris on the rocks. It gets you very loose, very quickly.

There used to be a place in Houston called the OP. It stayed open until 4 am and was packed every weekend. Songs by Donna Summer, Gloria Gaynor, the Bee Gees or others would blare out at a decibel level that I’m sure I could no longer tolerate today. (Did you say something?) We’d dance and he’d spin me. We were actually quite good or so it seemed to us anyway. I was so soaked after dancing my clothes would be plastered to me with sweat. Last call was at 2am so if you stayed and danced until 4am you were in much better shape to drive home.

For Halloween that year the OP was having a costume contest. I was having trouble coming up with something creative. I saw a movie listing for the Red Bluff Drive In in Pasadena. The Red Bluff was the X-rated drive-in back then. (I never went, however I heard lots of interesting stories from their patrons.) Anyway, I saw the title of their main feature that weekend and knew what I would be- The Suburban Lust Queen. In all fairness to the producers of what I am sure is a film classic, I never saw the movie. Instead I did my own interpretation. I had an old blue satin baby- doll pj gown. I bought some fishnet stockings and put a few rips in them prior to wearing them that night. On  my head I wore a rhinestone tiara. Across my chest I wore a sash that said Suburban Lust Queen. I looked fabulous. To this day I don’t know why I didn’t win. (Perhaps it was because I wasn’t gay.)

At any rate, I still have fond memories of that night and many others with my friend Billy. He was a good friend to me and helped get me through a difficult time. I rediscovered my self-esteem that had been hiding. We traveled together on many trips and shared lots of experiences. Some I will tell you about, some not. Right after Doug and I married,  Billy moved to San Fransisco. I still see him though not as much as I’d like. We seem to get together every few years. (Of course now adventures are much more sedate.) Remembering the past can sure be fun though. More on our journeys another day…