Imaginary Conversations and Random Thoughts

So we got together again. Mr. Texas, Princess Wolfie, Miss Judi and Miss Lola. You’ll be pleased to know that I brought up the team photo. You may be less pleased to know that no further progress has been made. As for the location, it was one of our old favorites. Princess Wolfie picked it out. And she brought up an interesting point.

Previously, I’ve said that Princess Wolfie likes to be involved and organize things, but I hadn’t given much thoughts to her limits. PW made some comments essentially asking why she should have to be the one to organize and pick the place and contact everyone about our cocktail hours. Watching an episode of That 70’s Show recently helped to crystallize the point. As one of the elders of the youngers, I’ve often felt sensitive to the potential to become the dad of the group. PW seems not to want to be the mom of the group. Which is kind of funny since Neighbor Lady and I are the same age and PW is maybe four years younger than us.

I can’t tell you what PW is thinking, but I can tell you that I sort of feel sick of being the rational one, the one who keeps his feet on the ground all the time. The outer Spock is fine and all, but I need to be in touch with the inner McCoy a little more. Which I’ve sort of been in the process of doing for a while now. But do I have a choice? Which brings us back to the team photo. Maybe I’ll check around and see what’s what with that, research some studios or something.

I was also noticing that Princess Wolfie isn’t wearing the rock. There was a discussion of this at the retreat. Go read that and you’ll see things have changed a little. Fisrt, she’s not wearing the rock. Second, she’s got a place in town now. Instead of meeting hubby at the halfway house every night, she’s staying in town at least during the week. I’m not too sure about weekends either. Why do I even think about these things? I’ve already told myself that I’m over her, that way at least, but thinking about stuff makes me wonder sometimes.

The amazing thing is that I can be so mixed up over that issue, and at the same time feel so clever when discussing the sexiness of ponytails and tattoos, and the philosophy of toilet seat position, that I tried to talk myself into offering a “Dear Floppy” sort of advice column on here. I’ve even put some thought into a short piece on the mystery of lesbians and why guys can’t get enough of them. But enough of that.

One last thing. At a lunch meeting the other day, Miss Straight clued me in on a new term. I had never heard of this before, or at least, never in such clear language. Am I the last to know? Let’s find out. Of the handful of you that read this, let’s have a little test. Have you ever heard the term “California Black”? I’ll get to it soon.