palmerpink

I recently got to spend a few days at the lake house my family used to visit through most of my childhood; we no longer own it, and it turns out I missed it more deeply than I realized. Anthony and I both got the week before NYC Pride off this year, so I contrived to get us a little time there. The cousins who own Greenshore gave Anthony and me permission to relax there for several days rather than just the 1 or 2 I had expected. Good god, I'm grateful for that. I missed this place. Standing on the balcony, the porch, or the dock and looking out over the lake, I was reminded of the beauty and tranquility this lake represents for me. The meaning and memories, too. This was always a place of solace and stability for me. We moved around a lot when I was a kid, but we always came back to this place. It had been in our family for generations before I was even born—if we'd been able to keep it, it would have been a solid 4 generations including mine. This was where I figured ...

I really got in touch with my culture and my roots this weekend--my white, white roots. Who else but white people tailgates horse races? It was a fine time overall, if a bit chilled and soggy. And by "a bit" I mean "very." It was a bit discouraging, in fact, for actual tailgating, but we survived, didn't we? Yes, that's silver. That's setting the bar a bit low, and it's more than a little ungrateful on my part, too. My mother did a fine thing hosting us all--even if she did privilege viewing angles of the intermittent, 3-second thunderings of passing horses over socializing and mingling amongst our fellows. While I know she tried, I also can't help but admit a little disappointment--as much in myself as anything, it's worth mentioning. It's a bone of contention I like to pick with myself that I don't press on and meet people more despite wanting to, that I don't go out and experience things genuinely as much as I...

So it was mother's day yesterday, yeh? so here's what my family did: Ordered pizza, watched tennis, and chilled. Today we might go out and golf ! If it stops raining. Heck, maybe even if it doesn't. They wouldn't have it any other way, either. We're a bit odd. We barbecued Easter dinner, for heaven's sake. But I love them, mostly. I dunno if it's because they're my family and I have to love them or if they're my family and I can't help  but love them. They raised me, helped make me who I am, and have always been a bit kooky about it. So it's what I've come to expect, to enjoy about them. After a quarter century of this, it seems a bit normal to me. If I say "...and I wouldn't have it any other way" it's probably because I don't know any other way they could be and still be the people I've known and loved for 25 years. It just wouldn't be them to be any other way, and that's why I like it. Beca...

I've been wanting to write a poem about this place--this lake, our house here--for the longest time. I thought of this title for it yesterday, when I arrived up the driveway and stood near the house and breathed the air, thinking, "Oh, this lake that never leaves". Because that's something I love most about it. Of all the moves and changes and (alleged) growing up over the years, this lake, this house, has always been right here. My mother and I realized that one perfect morning on the dock, at that mysterious hour before the wind picks up and the lake is flawlessly smooth. She pointed out how for both of us it's the only thing that's been constant in our lives; we've both come here yearly since we were born. A respite we can rely on; an anchoring place. I was getting worried that I wouldn't make it up here this year. I kept being detained by work or miscommunications with family. But I got here, and I am so happy I did. It's just about freezin...

So tomorrow I head up to Connecticut for the rest of the week. I'll be doing a good deal of chores--closing down the lakehouse for the season, painting and mending, and so forth--but I look forward to the time spent among the trees and the leaves, the wind and the cold. (Mind you, it's not normally that  cold when I visit, but I've never been up there this late in fall...and it's in the mountains...like, the highest mountain or something... it's in a cute town, though ....) Anyway, I love this place. My family's had a lakehouse up there since the 1930s; it's got this stolid, stonelike quality to it. Immovable. Of course it's really made of wood, and being 80 years old needs a bit of work now and then. Which is my excuse for going up this weekend, to do some work to fix it up a bit and close it down for the season. I'm excited. A bit of time to go clear my head and look at some nature and think, if I must, or write, if I can. Honestly, just...

So, my cousin Jill is pretty awesome. She's the only daughter of my dad's older sister, Judy, and she's an astrophysicist. Or something. Like, she definitely got her degree in astrophysics. Nowadays, she can be seen doing cool shit like this: Her video, here, captures what it means to be a Palmer. What others may deem dorky frivolity, we see as endless amusement. We know stuff--lots of stuff, often--but use our intelligence not to show off or pwn the world, but to give ourselves a hearty laugh. Or a gleeful giggle, as Jill illustrated. We are a goofy bunch, you can be sure. But we keep life interesting. Sure, we could go off naming some new nebulae or calculating singularities (or writing the next great American novel), but we just wouldn't be proper Palmers if we didn't find some way to make ourselves break out a grin and a laugh over something loosely relevant or wonderfully obscure or fantastically blinky-shiny. For me, I know I wouldn't have...

Well, I'm sure all of you have been dreadfully worried by those last few posts. But fear not, not all is Sturm und Drang in Palmerland. Afterall, after a sour morning, Saturday afternoon and evening turned out quite fantastic. Gorgeous boys and hearty laughs were had by all. Meanwhile I've been doing a modest share of writing, as I shared on the litting blog yesterday …. It's been fairly a marvelous feeling, writing; I only wish I were more consistent..... Today I'm enjoying a glamorously serene evening on the porch with my mom and grandmother. It's simply lovely; cool and gentle, with some birdsong and beloveds. I really hope my store doesn't suddenly decide they need me tonight. At least, not before I've had a moment or two to enjoy this.

So, lots of strange things abounding all about the place the last week or so. Work weirdness that indicates how (much) cool(er) our store (secretly?) is. Writing opportunities pursued. Possible job awesomeness. I'm actually a little surprised how "down'n'drifty" and sleepy I've been, so much going on, so much to cheer up over. So the Wheaton American Eagle used to be kinda the joke of the district/region/company. Tiny and shit results. Since our new managers took over last October, we've muchly reversed that. We kinda kick ass numbers-wise, relatively speaking. We may not make as  much money as say Montgomery or Tyson's Corner, but in given our traffic, size, and overall transactions, we've not infrequently kicked their asses. At the least, we're doing way better than we did before the old managers. Meanwhile, we got called in to help out an ailing store the other day. It's a big, high-volume store. It makes 4x as much money a year as...

No, not really; I'm just in plain ole boxers this morning. However, here are some brief updates/coming attractions. Bullettime!