My dinner with Will

Will is the unlikeliest of friends, at least for me. He's a Vietnam vet, a former Marine. That's not the whole of it. Will is a loudmouth conservative. he's also a friend.
I accuse him of being a "bastid" (the Massachusetts pronounciation of bastard), among other things, and he refers to me as a commie.
But aside from all our differences politically, Will is one of the best people I know. If I needed anything, I could call Will and if he could provide it, he would --no questions asked.
Will and Tony Kiss, the local newspaper's Beer Guy, have been friends for many years and have tales of adventures that I'm not really sure ever happened, but they're great stories.
Add Will's girlfriend and 23-year-old food and arts reporter, Carol Motsinger, and you have an evening of fun.
"You order the wine," Will says. "Get what's good."
Being unemployed, I want to go cheap, and Will is surprised I refer to my job status as unemployed.
"You have your nonprofit," he says.
"Yeah, but I don't get paid for that."
"It's still important work," he says. "You're doing important work."
Rob doesn't get how Will and I can be friends, but friendship is about more than political agreement; it's about who you can call when you need something and about who can make you laugh.
When we got to the restaurant, Will said, "I'll get us a table. I'll say I'm the mayor."
That's fine except she's an African-American woman and he's a white man. The hostess wasn't fooled, but she was charmed and we got a table.
The bartender wanted to hang out with us because we were having so much fun.
It's true Will's a bastid, but he is a lot of fun, and I love it when he's in town.

Birthday bash with the women

OK, so I'm not the partyer I used to be. That's probably for the best. But Juiceman organized a little party for me at Mela Indian Resturant.
She announced at Eat at Mike's that anyone who wanted to come to my surprise party was welcome, but it was me, Liz, Annie and kathleen -- Val was sick and didn't want to infect us, bless her.
We ordered a bottle of wine and then our food, but before the food even got there, Kathleen had toppled a glass, which splashed on Liz's white blouse. The waitress brought over a glass of seltzer, which really does work well to get out wine stains, and Annie pulled on Liz's sleeve to dip it in the glass.
I'm sure people thought we were totally smashed, but we weren't. Not even when Kathleen dumped a second glass.
I can't remember the last time I laughed so hard. The waitress was incredibly gracious.
Next time we all get together, Kathleen gets a sippee cup.

The only thing wrong ...

I baked seven-grain bread this afternoon. It's one of the two breads I make regularly. As I sliced it, I remembered the first time I made it, about three years ago.
Mike was here, just waiting for the bread to cool enough to slice. I wasn't confident in the bread, fearing it would be too dry. It was the first time I'd made up my own bread recipe, so I was ready for failure.
But as I was looking at that first slice daring myself to taste it, Mike had already cut himself a piece and had slathered butter on it.
I looked at him as he bit into it -- my brutally honest taster was about to render his verdict.
"Oh man," he said with his mouth still full. "The only thing wrong with this bread is that it isn't at my house."

Razzing my son

Is it wrong to tell a former Marine you're going to get him the new Tinkerbell movie for his 37th birthday?
It's been a long time since Danny and I have just been silly together. His problems in his life and Mike's death have kept us pretty serious.
But the other night, I just messaged him on Facebook and told him that's what I'm going to do.
He called immediately and asked where that came from. I told him I was watching one of my socialist TV shows and there was a commercial on for the new movie, which is coming out om DVD the day before his birthday.
It was good to just laugh with him like we did in 2004, when I put a Red Sox screensaver on his computer after my team won the World Series (he's a Yankees fan). He told me he had put a Bush/Cheney bumper sticker on my car and I told him I would put a Kerry/Edwards bumper sticker on his truck if that was true.
"You don't have one," he said, and then started chanting "Mom's votin' for Bu-ush."
I pulled a bumper sticker out of my briefcase and we just laughed.
He took Mike's death hard -- we all did. But he's finally coming out of his grief and starting to find some peace.
I am getting him that movie, though.

Root for the Yankees? Me?

Well, maybe. I'm a die-hard Red Sox fan, but Rob is thinking about finally getting a new TV (ours is 16 years old) if the Yanks make the World Series.
Now, I hate the Yankees with the heat of a thousand white-hot suns. I'm a Red Sox fan.
But our TV is so old I can't have cable AND the DVD player hooked up at the same time and it's a royal pain to unhook and rehook, so I only am able to watch Star Trek on my computer, and that's just a 19-inch screen, which I can't see from the couch.
So it's not really about the Yankees; it's about Star Trek.
OK, I'm rationalizing. But the World Series only lasts a few days and then I'll be free to watch Captain Kirk and all my outer-space heroes.
It's not like I'm selling my soul to the devil, is it?

Busier than ever

That's me, speaking at a rally in Washington, DC, last Sunday. Between the bus ride up, the rally and the ride back, I was awake for 44 hours straight. I made it, though, and I got to tell Mike's story again.
I'm a big believer in the power of stories.
I thought I could relax this week but I've hardly had time to sit still. Life o' Mike is having a fundraiser on Nov. 1 and I have to pull it all together. Then Rob and I will go away to celebrate our 26th wedding annivarsary.
My house is cleaner than it's been in a long time, though. Since I'm working from home, I can't stand the mess around me, so I've picked up, vacuumed and done a lot more cooking.

A reward for a lot of hard work

I've spent the last week organizing a health care rally. The NC Justice Center's Health Access Coalition asked me to organize a small rally and I agreed, even though it was pretty short notice and I never imagines we'd get a big crowd, but we had 300 people and a lot of moving stories.
I came home afterward and took a three-hour nap.