Rae Theodore's Blog, page 10

Happy

I attended a creative nonfiction conference this past weekend in Lancaster, Pennsylvania. W and one of the kids came with to enjoy my big, fancy hotel room.

I leftthe hotel room early in the morning while the two of them slept in. I popped in from time to time touse the bathroom or check in on them.

“You look so happy,” W said.

I couldn’t lie. And I couldn’t stop smiling. I was in my element. I was with a bunch of other people nerding out on using white space in an essay or the ethicality of...

Lawnmower lingo

When W came home from work yesterday, I was assembling my new electric lawnmower on the front porch.

“It’s so cute!” she said.

“Really?” I said.

She knows how I feel about the word “cute.”

“Oh. Right. Handsome.”

“No,” I said.

Neckties and squared off sideburns are handsome. Me? I’m a handsome devil. But a handsome lawnmower?

“I have no clue,” she said.

Once again, my wife was flummoxed by my rules.

I looked at the sleek neon green, lawn-cutting machine.

“Try sporty.”

“Your new lawnmower is sp...

Perfect

This is Sammy Long Legs.

We have weird cats. Sammy has long legs like a professional basketball player. He layson his back with his body curved like a question mark. Hishead is at a constant tilt as if he is forever wondering what was that? what was that? He likes to have the top of his head scratched. If you do it right–hard withthe tips of your nails–his lip will flip up like he’s Elvis and he’ll show a single tooth.

Last night, Sammy was laying stretched out on my lap, and I was telling hi...

Ahem. Announcements and stuff

Guys, here I am. It’s been way too long. I think I was still wearing flannel the last time I posted. We’re stuckin what they’re calling a “heat dome” here in the Philly burbs, so no summer flannel for this butch.

I’ve been busy, folks. Ihaven’t been ignoring you because you think Cindy was the best Brady ever. Everyone knows it was Jan. Or because you’re a Yankees fan.

Maybe a crown AND a cape like professional wrestler Jerry “The King” Lawler wore back in the day.

You’re looking at one of th...

Moonbeams

“You’re not drawing me,” W says. She says it in an innocent way with her eyes wide and bright and a bit of a grin starting on one side of her face. She says it as if she’s daring me to sketch her there in the June sunlight.

I’m sitting on a folding chair with my little red Moleskine notebook and my silver astronaut pen. I’m pretending to sketch her as she sits on a folding chair across from me.

“Of course I’m not drawing you,” I say. “I’m a writer, not a drawer.”

“Draw me with words,” she say...

Dads and daughters

Growing up as a tomboy (or mini-butch), my dad taught me how to do the important things in life:

Fish.

Keep score at a baseball game.

Throw a split finger fastball.

Shoot pool.

Tie a necktie.

Shoot a layup.

Cook breakfast.

Be loyal.

Be patient.

Never force things.

Work hard.

Keep calm (before it was even a thing).

And always listen to your wife.

Happy Father’s Day to all the dads out there!

* * *

What did your dad teach you?

Love

Like you, W and I we are heartbroken over Orlando.

I sat at my computer much of Sunday trying to work and trying not to feel. I was unsuccessful at both.

I had an overwhelming urge to do something. Anything. I could feel the itch on my skin.

See that word in purple caps?

I glanced over at my filing cabinet and saw a poster for a yoga/wellness festival that a friend of mine is putting together. A single word in purple ink caught my eye: LOVE.

I sent off a clumsy e-mail. Can we table there and...

#WeAreOrlando

W and I had our third date at a gay bar in Phoenixville, Pennsylvania, called Frank Jeffreys.

This was my bar.

This was my gay bar.

That night, we bellied up to the old wooden bar.

The bartender knew myname.

He knew my usual.

“Hey, Russ. How’s it going?” I asked.

I figured I was scoring points with W. I was racking them up like a human pinball machine. Ka-ching.

That night, we talked with Russ about labels. And laughed about that time I got hit on by a dude.

“Am I sending out the right signal...

Pride and butches and free stuff

Get out your rainbow T-shirts and your labrys necklaces. Your Birkenstocks, too. You know the drill. It’s June, which means Pride is here in all of its ROYGBIV glory.

And what’s Pride without your butches. It’s like french fries without catsup (I did, too, spell it that way), Melissa Etheridge without water — somebody bring her some, a lesbian couple without a cat or a Subaru.

What does being butch mean to you?

Leave your best answer in the comment section. I’ll mail out prizes for the top 3...

The magical, mystical butch

W’s brother is getting married this weekend.On Sunday, W and Icoordinated our outfits for the rehearsal dinner and wedding, making sure my ties won’t clash with her dresses. It’s so exhausting being a lesbian power couple.

Sunday evening, I ended up running out to Kohl’s department store topick up a few things. I am mostly over the awkwardness that comes from shopping in the men’s department. But on this particular shopping trip, I found myself feeling a bit like a strange mythical being. Kin...