The Whirlwind Tour, Some perfect babies, and a parade of thousands….

The first thing I noticed when my brother picked me up from Cleveland Hopkins Intl airport was a giant white billboard that read “Let freedom ring. And let it be rung by a stripper.” Howard Stern. Oh gosh, I couldn’t stop cracking up. I forgot how much he made me laugh.

Thursday was spent with Barbie Warb doing some shopping and running some essential errands, like getting me a pair of hipster shoes that were on sale and the cups and plates necessary for the baby shower I was hosting but not attending. Mike cooked up some food and I gave my family some gifts I had picked up from my new hometown. I headed out to meet Cindy and Jill at the Old Angle – my old stomping ground – the place where everyone knows my name and I only end up paying for 3 of the 6 or 7 beers I end up drinking. We fell into our usual habit of closing the place down, offering advice to boys who are afraid to commit and solving other huge, sometimes, worldly problems. Or not.

Friday morning was a bit tough as was to be expected. I made various post it notes and stuck them to the door incase I missed my friend Kathy who was picking me up. Loosing my cell phone on the bus the day I was leaving to go out of town turned out to be slightly problematic. We finally grabbed breakfast, chatted about her impending visit in July and zipped off in the Cleveland rain shortly there after for Duck Cho Chee with Rebecca – my favorite lunch – both Rebecca and the duck. A bus ride and rapid stop put me back at the Old Angle where I met my colleagues for gossip, griping, laughing and general good times – how I missed them!

The Bier Markt was the last stop, where there were just a few too many people to sustain deep conversations and instead I found myself surface swimming. Carol has a great new boyfriend. Mere is ready to leave the hood. Lyman is great as usual. Jen informed me the Cleveland Indians are rumored to be excellent this year. G is in the middle of green card paper work - again. Susan is still dancing and David is planning on coming up with my new roller derby name (more on that later). Jill is opening a wine bar and another one is enjoying her time unemployed. A canceled late night rendezvous worked out and I found myself home, late, but smiling with a pocketful of mostly good news.

Saturday was yellow balloons, strawberries, bagels, cream cheese, green cups, pink napkins, and a baby car seat, as I doomed off to Rebecca’s house to set up for the shower I wasn’t going to attend. More twins! Girls! A cowboy hat for my favorite 5 year old and off to Cincinnati to celebrate the Peanuts’ 1st birthday!

The Peanuts were great! (Though they were a little sleepy and slightly cranky having spent the morning picking the nose of the giant Easter Bunny they went to visit) They are simply beautiful girls each with very distinct personalities, wonderful smiles and experts at that secret baby language. They could do all the one year old tricks: walk with help of your hands, crawl everywhere, play with ice cubes, drink from sippy cups and stare at you with such perplexity. When you put Lucia and Alexandra together you can tell them apart. If you scoop up one of the girls as she crawls with a vengeance to the front windows, you’ll have no idea who you have. I asked Mark if they were identical, he made the good point of saying “does it matter.” Of course not, they have two wonderful parents who love them very much and 30 friends who wished them a very happy first birthday.

The next day flew by as the family and friends disappeared, and I found myself hanging out at the Salt Lake City Airport trying to pace off a three hour layover. I broke down and after having read every single story, article, advertisement, in the Atlantic Monthly; I picked up a People Magazine and go myself caught up on the gossip of the rich and famous. Pyg and Jon picked me up and kitty friends were so happy to see me they started Kitty Olympics at 2 a.m. instead of 4 a.m.

A bright sunny Monday, I took the bus home only to find myself stuck at a traffic light for two runs. I knew that was a sign to get off and boy, what parade I stumbled into. There were hundreds of thousands of people marching downtown with signs, drums, babies, more American flags than you see at the 4th of July, students, unions and old ladies. Signs littered the crowd: I am not a terrorist; I pledge allegiance to the United States of America… with Liberty and Justice for All; I love the USA; We’re all immigrants; We are not criminals; I work for the American Dream; We pay taxes too; I am 4 and do not understand. There were spectators on the street like myself with a shit eating grins on their faces absolutely flabbergasted at the enormity of the rally and the positive energy and spirit of the parade. The buses were stuck at a standstill. Rush hour traffic was a nightmare but it was a beautiful way to attract attention to an issue that needs addressing. When I finally caught a bus back to Ballard, two older ladies summed it up nicely “It was the best rally I have ever been to and I’ve been to many, many, rallies over 50 years.” Welcome back to Seattle.