Hey, look. I remembered my password

Hey, there, Interwebs. The Yankee Librarian is back.

Honestly, I didn’t go anywhere, I just forgot my password. And email. And I didn’t feel like figuring all that shit out. But after couple beers from New Glarus, I decided to get back into my account—and I did.

Listen, the last blog post I wrote was in 2015. A lot has changed. I don’t need to make a list.

In the last four years, I’ve thought about making various posts or I’ve half written them in my head, but then nothing happened.

So, this is simply an introductory post to announce to my five followers that I’m resurrecting this blog. Let’s see how long it will last.

And I freaked out

I moved. Again.

I moved because I bought a condo. Last time I moved I was thinking about buying something but decided against it, because of responsibility and whatnot.

I took the plunge into homeownership because I found a place that I Zillow-stalked for a few weeks and then went to the open house. A couple days later I met a real estate agent, planned a second visit to the condo, and made an offer. Mine was the second offer and after writing a letter to the seller about how much I loved her home, my offer was accepted.

And then I freaked out. And then I calmed down with spikes of freak out. And then I calmed down. And stayed semi-calm. And then I began thinking it was all going too well.

And then I closed. And then I tried to buy a ring from my favorite jewelry lady. And then I found out that someone had stolen my debit card number and PIN and had been buying random shit at Houston-area Wal-Marts. To the total of about $1000.

Luckily my credit union was on it and reimbursed all the money, got me a new card, and all was good. But I was a little freaked out.

Then I moved.

I hired someone to pack and move me. It went okay, except for the fact that my couch wouldn't fit. Granted, I'd bought a new one but it hadn't arrived yet. But I freaked out. And then I had to figure out how to dispose of said couch since no one would take it (apparently no one takes used furniture anymore).

And then I was alone in my new condo. And despite not having done much all day, every bone in my body hurt

And.I.Freaked.Out.

What had I done? Seriously? What.Had.I.Done?

The first night in my place I couldn't sleep. Not because my brain wouldn't stop working but because I couldn't stop moving. I'd get up and just walk around because I could not be still for more than a few minutes. The next night I slept.

For about a week and a half, I obsessed over what was wrong with the place. It needed a coat of paint but I didn't have time to paint before I moved. I didn't have any furniture other than my coffee table, a wash stand, my bed, a dresser, and a dorm-room butterfly chair. It was kind of fun at first, but after a week or so it began to feel like I was living in a storage locker.

Then my new sofa arrive and I forgot about all the things I had found wrong with the place. Then I bought a rug and a new coffee table, and it looked like someone lived here. It looked like I lived here.

And then it felt like my home. And I loved it even more than I did when I first saw it.

Buying this thing was terrifying. And overwhelming. And I freaked the fuck out multiple times. But I love it.

I have one of those weird combo washer-dryers. And despite the reviews I read on Amazon and elsewhere, it works pretty well. It takes three hours to wash and dry one load of laundry and for more than one person, it would be too small. But for me? It's a great size.

My weird little washer-dryer combo. And my cork kitchen floors. 

And I have a blue bathroom. Blue. My place was built in 1951. The bathrooms were either blue, pink, or green. When the woman who sold it renovated, she didn't rip out the original fixtures, she accentuated them.

My blue bathroom. And my awesome black cat shower curtain.

And it is all mine. Mine.

And I love it.

It's Just Marriage

I was standing in the SupPop store in SeaTac. It was about 7:15 or so. Maybe closer to 7:20. I was wasting some time before my flight to San Francisco for ALA Annual. I pulled out my phone to check messages and I saw a notification that the Supreme Court was about to make an announcement, followed by an announcement that the Supreme Court had approved same-sex marriage 5-4.

And I teared up. And I posted on Facebook. And I couldn't stop smiling. And I wanted to turn to the lady who had just wandered in who was looking at me weird because I kept sniffing and say, "Supreme Court approved same-sex marriage!!!!"

But I didn't.

I kept smiling. And I bought a Sleater-Kinney tshirt. And as the day went on and I saw all the exclamations of joy on social media and read all the articles, I got happier. And then I read the beautiful paragraph that ended Anthony Kennedy's summary:

then I read bits and pieces of what Scalia and Thomas said and all I could think was how they must be miserable little men with really sad lives. 

And then I got on my flight to San Francisco. 

Did I also mention that it was Pride Weekend. Because it was. 

While in San Francisco I met up with an old friend from high school. Deana and I were inseparable during my senior year. Deana has always been a performer and has had a big personality (and bigger hair). She used that all to her advantage and has been performing in drag for two decades and now makes wigs for drag queens. While we had initially planned on having dinner she asked if I'd want to go to the Pink Party in her neighborhood. Her neighborhood is the Castro District and her crew and social circle is the Imperial Council (for more info, see the trailer for the documentary, 50 Years of Fabulous: The Imperial Council Story). 

The Castro. This was towards the end of the night of the planned festival.
They swept the street a few minutes later. 

So the Saturday night, the day after same-sex marriage was legalized, I was sitting at the window of a second floor apartment across the street from the Castro Theatre, watching pure joy. I met two former Empresses and the current Ms Gay San Francisco. I was kissed by a former Empress* and the current Emperor kissed me multiple times when he found out I was a librarian. 

*Deana asked, "Did he kiss you on the mouth?" Yes, yes he did. And I said, "I came to the Castro on Pride weekend and was kissed on the mouth by a queen. Best Pride Ever!"

The emotion in the apartment was so..... real. It was so raw. Someone was talking about growing up in a small southern town and how he couldn't be who he was and now this. THIS was happening in his lifetime. That feeling, the realization of the magnitude of what happened was so overwhelming. It was overwhelming for me but I can't even imagine what it was like for someone who has been marginalized most of their life. 

In college I had many gay friends. I was pretty sure I had a sign on my head that said "Come Out Here," because two or three different guys came out to me when I was a freshman. I was honored, honestly. They usually barely knew me but trusted me enough to tell me. I had a couple of local and out gay friends. I'd often refer them to them for advice and help.

I saw my friends in college harassed and bullied. One friend's roommate put a picture of him up on the dorm bulletin board with a sign that said, "I like little boys." Cori and I ripped the paper of the bulletin board, marched into their dorm room, confronted the asshole roommate. He sat there with a smug smile on his face. And then Cori hit him across the face. He wasn't so smug then. Another was harassed so much by the guys on his floor that he dropped out after his first year. My friends and I were lucky. We found a space where we felt safe in Bruce's house. He made sure that all of us, regardless of who we were, what we looked like, or who we loved felt safe and loved.  

When I was in college I never thought I'd see something like this happen. And I'm not just talking about the SCOTUS decision, I'm talking about how gay relationships have become so much more accepted. It's something that seems to have happened so fast yet at the same time it feels like it has taken forever. But here we are. Don't get me wrong, the fight isn't over. LGBTQ individuals still don't have equal protection in job security and housing and there are still lots of individuals are still being harassed and bullied and shamed into thinking that who they are is wrong or immoral or evil. There is still a fight to fight. 

But to be in San Francisco on this Pride Weekend at this time in history was amazing. It was spectacular. It was just..... It just was.

The Lesbian/Gay Freedom Band. I may have cried a little.

Deana in the parade. She was with the Community Grand Marshall Brian Bassinger and the Aids Housing Alliance. She's Dolly Parton in the big blond wig.

Watching Reading Listening

Watching

Friends on Netflix. I will not apologize for watching Friends. I was 25 when friends started and as their lives changed, so did mine. Sure, I was living with my mom in southwest Wisconsin and not some fancy apartment in New York and my urban family/friends were spread across three states, but as I went through my 20s and 30s, I went through many of the same thing life phases. I struggled to find a decent job. I dated some unfortunate me. I found a career and then left that career. As friends came to an end I had been out of library school for less than a year and was settling into my second career and new town.

Friends is on pretty constant syndication rotation, being able to just binge watch or pick and choose episodes is cool. And all these years later, what really stands out? Matt LeBlanc and Lisa Kudrow. Both of them are pretty amazing.

Jane the Virgin. I cannot get over how much I like this show. So very much.

Reading

Bad Feminist by Roxane Gay. I have been reading this off and on for a while. It's a book of essays so it's easy to start and stop. In some cases, I am fairly sure she is in my head, especially the essay about being a first-year professor.

Eleanor and Park by Rainbow Rowell. I've had this book on my ereader for awhile, but I finally got around to reading it. I am so sorry I wanted so long. It was sweet and wonderful and really great.

Funny Girl: A Novel by Nick Hornby. I haven't read it yet. I haven't even purchased it yet. But I will be, soon.

Listening

No Cities to Love, Sleater-Kinney. I don't buy much music anymore and don't put a lot of effort into finding new music. But when Sleater-Kinney announced their new album last fall I pretty much freaked out. I have been waiting and waiting and waiting. I was so worried I would be disappointed. Then it was released. Was I disappointed? Fuck no. And I have been listening to it almost non-stop. A month after it was released and it is still the only thing I want to listen to when I go to the gym. I cannot get enough of it. No Cities to Love, New Wave, Bury our Friends, and Hey Darling are the four songs I keep going back to. And as much as I love Carrie Brownstein and Corrin Tucker, Janet Weiss kicks some serious--and I mean some SERIOUS--ass on this album.

And I have ticket so see them in May. I CANNOT wait.

Christmas Travel

My trips to and from Iowa were pretty uneventful. On the way there I had to go from SeaTac to Portlad to O'Hare and then to the Quad Cities. Twelve hours, three flights and two airports. On the way back it was more direct: Quad Cities, O'Hare, SeaTac and then the shuttle north. Also about twelve hours. 

Trip there: December 23-24

I went to Seattle the day before since I had a 6am flight. I spent the day eating (Wayward Cafe, Cupcake Royale, Cinnamon Works). I hit Westlake Mall to see if there were some small things I could get my nieces and nephews but there were so many people there I decided it wasn't worth the hassle. Instead I hit up Uwajimaya and picked up some Pocky. 

Spending the night in Seattle made sense except for the fact that I only slept two hours because I was suffering from What-if-I-oversleep anxiety. 

Vegan breakfast: An egg and potato burritos from Qudoba hold the egg and add black beans. Tasty. 

The Portland Airport. I've been to the Portland airport before but it's been about seven years. It's a smallish airport with good shopping. I bought myself a pair of Haflinger slippers (red cat slippers) and some Pacfica lip tint for my nieces. And a spectacular veggie wrap from Elephants Deli.

The flight from Portland to O'Hare was pretty much the Wisconsin Express, including the guy two rows in front of me who was from the small central Wisconsin town I used to live in (population 1000). As people were boarding I heard him tell the people next to him he had a six-hour drive ahead of him after the flight and where he was going. I stood up, interrupted and was all, "What the fuck?" without actually saying What the Fuck. 

About half way through the flight I began to lose my mind from exhaustion.

In Chicago I was yelled by a woman in a sari. I don't know why. I sat down at a table to eat, charge my phone, and wait for my flight. I heard this woman yelling but I ignored her. Then I realized she was yelling at me. I have no clue what about since she was yelling in a language I didn't understand. Thing is, after yelling at me once, she came back to yell again. 

As is the O'Hare Christmas Tradition, the gate for my flight changed three times. But unlike several others waiting for flights, mine wasn't cancelled. While waiting to board I met three other people who were heading to the Quad Cities and were coming from the Seattle Area. Except for the two brothers, none of us took the same route. 

Trip Home: December 30

The descent into Chicago was one of the coolest I've ever had. We flew over the Loop--directly over the Hancock Tower--did a sharp turn over Lake Michigan and flew over Wrigley Field as we landed. So cool. 

The flight to SeaTac on Alaska? Newer plane, an outlet at every seat, and free movies. SCORE. 

From SeaTac I took the shuttle north. It was uneventful except for one thing: The overly-enthusiastic guy. Everything was a marvel. My rolling suitcase was the best invention every. The shuttle was full of wonderful people. Seriously. Remember the enthusiastic guy Alex Baldwin played on Friends? Yeah that was him. I totally expected to hear this guy call the traffic on I-5 as being aglow "with the light of a million fairies."