Bono for the Homos

The Provincetown holiday break was lovely. Especially since after initial losses, I won our in-house vacation Scrabble tourney in a close final day best-of smackdown. The whole town is still agog over the transformation of our former soviet era Grand Union into the modern, spic and span Stop and Shop. There’s a cold cuts concierge in the deli! I have always thought that in the dead of winter there should be afternoon tea dances in the produce department. They’ve got an intercom. The S&S management might be amenable.
And as if that were not enough mind-blowing news, there is new dog park just past the Temple of Cumberland Farms. Shankpainter Road is where it’s happening! The recently completed Bark Park is a new gathering spot where even in the teeth of a New Year’s gale dogs were seen romping while owners huddled kvelling about the S&S. It’s so much fun, non-dog owners have brought toy stuffed dog animals, set them down and tried to pass. The dog park has cut down on the numbers of dogs off the leash out on town trails. No more “He won’t hurt you!” shouts as a chocolate lab does a wild card tackle.
We took great walks, despite my Indian girlfriend’s grousing, “Winter is not part of my culture.” We had great dinners with hardy year-rounder friends and holiday visitors. Every dinner conversation featured the inevitable dissection of the Rick “the P is silent” Warren inaugural invite and biotch slap. That topic followed the how-did-we-lose-Prop-Eight discussion. I would point out that CA is on the verge of bankruptcy. My message is more cautionary than causal: mess with the gays and your economy could suffer.
Despite Melissa Etheridge’s best Bono for the Homos effort, gay people and our straight friends and families are still not hopping on the Saddleback. We will not be appeased, not even if Rick Warren officiated at the wedding of Oprah and Gayle in the Oval Office. That might do it for me. Nah. Not even that.
Due to forty mile an hour winds and drifting snow we had to cancel our annual New Year’s beach fire. Each new year at sunset we have a beach fire and anyone can write down things they want to get rid of from the old year and toss them in the fire. For the first time this year we had even added an internet component to our ritual. Out of town friends emailed me their lists of disposables and, without looking at them shooting out of the printer, swear, I quickly origamied them into fire balls.
On a calm January 2, Urvashi and I took all the lists out on the jetty and burned them up. Black ash filigree danced and sizzled on the white snow. It’s back to work and school! Happy New Year.