Finalist

My essay, The Lives and Deaths of Buffalo Butt, was published last year in a book that is currently a finalist for the Lambda Literary Award Anthology category. Because I am so preoccupied with important tasks such as researching The Captain & Tennille for our next podcast and raising my fishing skill in World of Warcraft, I only found out about this yesterday.

I guess that is fitting since my essay was described by this reviewer as "something like the relieving resolution of childhood OCD". I guess my obsession with relationships was evident in the way I played cars. My Matchbox cars went on romantic dates together. And true, as I confessed in the essay, I matched up groceries in couples as I unloaded the shopping cart. (Ketchup and Mustard were boyfriend and girlfriend, and Catalina French Dressing always accompanied his girlfriend, Iceberg Lettuce, on the red carpet, ie., the checkout counter conveyor belt.)

I am very proud to be included in this book. If you would like to purchase a copy, you can click on the book cover at the top of this post. Well, you can click the book cover just for fun, but it won't take you anywhere. I just tested it. It doesn't work. I never claimed to be a technological genius. I never even claimed to function at the level of a 13-year-old girl with her own My Space.

Never mind, just click here for a shortcut to Amazon, or you can check with your favorite local bookstore if you're not into the whole corporate empire thing.

If you would like to know more about the Lambda Literary awards and read the thoughts of our editors, Rob Williams and Ted Gideonse, stop by the From Boys to Men site and congratulate them!

And thanks to you Juju. I never would have done it without your support (and threats).

Fighting with the Homeless

If you want to hear about how I almost got in a fight with a homeless person this week, then you will have to listen to the Todd & Pony Show. This is our mean show titled "Oh, Bite Me!"

You don't need an iPod to hear the show. You can listen right there on the website.

This weekend I hosted a little slumber party at my apartment. In addition to playing cards and doing typical party activities (being intentionally vague, of course) I served up some food. I made scallops wrapped in bacon and did not explode anything. I whipped up a spicy mayo too.

When I told all of this to Auburn Pisces last night she turned to me with a shocked expression on her face and said, "Who are you?" By the way, she posted her update about the birthday weekend we spent at the coast with our friends and our special guest Pua!

I Forgot What I Wanted to Remember

This weekend at softball practice my cleats were so tight. It turns out that I put a pair of insoles in the shoes to cushion my heel, which is afflicted with a bone spur. Last season I also put insoles in my cleats. But I forgot I had done that, so I had two insoles in my shoes, which left barely enough room for my actual feet.

Yesterday on the way to work I found myself memorizing a list of things I wanted to Google. I know that it is a good idea to carry a notepad around, but I am lucky if I can remember my wallet every morning, so it is ludicrous to think I'll remember to grab a notepad before leaving my apartment.

Toddy's Mental List of Things to Google Once I Get To Work:
1. How do they answer the phone in other countries?
2. What is the story behind that man who preaches at the bus mall every day?
3. Why were jurors jolted by ugly truths? (Headline from yesterday's paper)

Why did I have to search for those facts? No reason, really. I could have bought the newspaper and checked that one off my list. Knowing how a person in Jordan answers the phone wasn't really important for my personal growth. I've lived in Portland for 10 years without knowing anything about the street preacher downtown, but yesterday it felt crucial that I know more about him.

I know that I make my life more difficult than it needs to be. I clutter my brain with useless information. I forget things so quickly too. This morning I read an article in Rolling Stone and immediately forgot what I read. I set the magazine down and thought to myself, "That was a good article. Wait. What was it about? Politics? A movie review? Think, damn it. What did I just read???"

I finally remembered that the article was about the band, REM, and included some photos from their history.

My memory is not so bad that I will ever forget the theme song to Knot's Landing. And no matter how old I live to be, I will never ever forget every single word of that Brim commercial.

The Disappearing of Hot Toddy

I'm disappearing.

I can see it in people's faces, and I can feel it inside of me.

A couple years ago I checked my blog stats daily. Receiving comments on my posts was like oxygen to me. And getting nominated for various blog awards? Forget about it - that was practically like winning an Oscar.

Today I stumbled upon another blogger popularity contest where people are asked to vote on who is the best blogger. I'm trying to remember why I used to care about that. Truth be told, I sort of disappeared off the grid a couple years ago. I'm no longer part of the in crowd. Once I "won" an "award" for "Best Gay Blog". I even campaigned for votes.

Why did I crave the attention? Somehow I felt so validated by blog comments and votes. I did the same thing at the bar where phone numbers became hard copy versions of blog comments. Votes in support of my awesome hotness were cast in the form of one night stands or three-week long "relationships", which are really just 21-night stands, aren't they?

Don't get me wrong. I gratefully accept your comments and appreciate the time you take to let me know you're out there. When I do visit blogs, I tend to visit the people who comment even before visiting my long-standing links.

I appreciate your comments, but I don't need them. That's the difference. Ever since I started disappearing, it's been that way. How can I explain? I feel like a former homecoming queen, Class of '85, who has been forgotten by my former classmates. The funny thing is, I like it. Love it, even.

Yesterday I went to softball practice and saw guys I haven't seen since last summer. As soon as I stepped out of my truck I noticed that my teammates said hello to me with their eyes locked on my waist. It was weird. Sort of unsettling, but not completely unexpected.

Last August I was at almost 19% body fat, and I'm now at right around 12%. The numbers on the scale would indicate a loss of about 10 pounds, but using a body fat measurement tool (Bioelectrical Impedance Analysis), my actual loss over the past seven months was 22 pounds of fat. Now that I'm about six pounds from my goal of 10% body fat, I find my entire motivation has changed. For the first time in my life, this battle to shed fat has nothing to do with how I am perceived by others and everything to do with how I feel when I look in the mirror.

Good thing my clothes are getting smaller, because my closet is smaller than it was last year too. My apartment isn't very big at all, but it is just right for me.

I want to take up less room in the world.

I want less attention.

I want fewer obligations.

I want more time alone.

I want to talk less and say more.

So I'll end this for today.

Party Planner

I have to plan a bachelor party for The Handsome Prince, and I'm scared.

I can't make a meal for him and his friends. We all know this. Why, just last week at the coast I was heating a baking pan of oil and garlic in the oven and caused an explosion. I heard a loud bang and saw the oven door fly open. Then flames burst from the pan. I was just heating oil, I swear.

Also, there will be a mix of gay and straight men at this party. So I don't know if I am supposed to hire male or female dancers.

He and The Math Whiz will be having a ceremony in May to celebrate their union. So it falls on me to throw my best friend a party. He asked me to get help planning it. No, seriously. He asked me to please get help planning it. He didn't actually come out and say, "Please don't plan this by yourself because you will fuck it up," but it was implied.

I don't know if I really need help. I've just decided to hire a group of Irish cloggers and order pizza unless someone offers me a better idea.

More Grace

Little did I know when I posted that last entry that my sister would name her first baby girl "Grace" a few days later. My very first niece was born on Friday, and I am so in love with that little girl. Grace is so beautiful. I will meet her in person this summer.

Speaking of grace, I had the honor of meeting Pua in person this weekend. There are no words to describe this woman's grace. If there is a soul on earth with a kinder heart and warmer spirit, I haven't met them.

Pua came to celebrate AP's birthday with our gang, and she permanently moved into my heart as a cherished "real-life" friend. We shared loads of laughter, and a few tears throughout the weekend. Saying goodbye to her as we listened to waves crashing on the Oregon coast stung my heart. But I know I will see her again soon.

As tears fell, we hugged each other tightly. "Can we just say 'see you soon' instead of goodbye?" I asked my friend.

"Aloha," she whispered in return.

Grace

This afternoon at the gym, I passed by the aerobics room and was stopped dead in my tracks by a beautiful and moving sight. What caught my eye was the small Asian woman dancing alone. In the late afternoon, she often practices her dancing in that room. I could not hear any music, yet she moved elegantly in time to a waltz that must have played in her heart. I watched the woman dance with her arms poised around the partner she imagined held her and twirled her.

She gently rested one tiny hand on her imaginary partner's shoulder while her other hand floated in air as though held by a strong hand. Her movements were so smooth she appeared to skate on the wood floor. She held her head high and glided with strength and majesty. I watched for a moment and absorbed the beauty in her dance. I opened my heart to the lesson, and it softly but firmly landed on my heart.

She practices. She dances. She has no partner, but she knows that she will one day dance with him, and she wants to be ready.

She has no one to hold her up, yet this woman's dance was not diminished by the absence of a partner.

Her grace was more clearly seen because she was alone.

Happy Birthday Auburn Pisces

If you have a moment, go over and wish Auburn Pisces a happy birthday!

We'll be celebrating at the Oregon Coast this coming weekend with a very special guest!