Annie the cat helps out with Science homework. Instagram

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There goes our Alpine Slide idea... Instagram

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I wander the house at night. I begin the aimless wander at this window. I end my wander here as well. Instagram

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Pancakes, Stevie. Pancakes.

It's that time of year again. The time when the pancake clock starts. 

On the first notable snowfall in Denver, I historically head to a pancake house and celebrate with a heaping order of flap-jacks.  Checking back on my blog, how I remember everything that has happened in my life, the first snow is typically around the last week on October. 

No matter the time, or the date, pancakes must be eaten. A celebration of StevieB blog history. There will be hot-cakes. For now we wait. When the flakes fall so does syrup. 

I knew His Smile in an Instant

Atlanta was a great trip. It is funny how Patrick’s friendship just continues online and offline without missing a beat. Not physically seeing Patrick since our cruise, over a year ago, we simply just picked up where we left off.  He was a great host. The excuse for the visit was for Atlanta’s Pride celebration. Understanding the heat of Atlanta’s summers I understand how they began to throw the weekend celebration in October.

The first night was a kick-off party as the Atlanta Aquarium. A huge party thrown around the world-class aquariums and tanks. Patrick and I literally partied with Otters. A long list of Atlanta’s best diners, and dives followed over the weekend. Topped off by the main Pride Parade on Sunday. As Patrick, his large and very nice group of friends, and I settled into a safe spot to watch the parade; I quickly become bored. Patrick suggested we sit on the near-by Italian restaurant’s patio. We snuck away from the jubilant friends and ordered a little lunch, alfresco.

At this point in my story, I need to mention that anytime I am awake my head is buried in my phone. This trip, I was constantly texting the same cute boy I had been seeing in back home. All through the Aquarium, the diners, and the parade I was texting him non-stop. It’s actually quite disgusting. I mimic a fourteen-year old girl.   As we slipped away from the parade front, I sent a selfie to the same cute boy, giving him a literal picture of the mayhem we were about to escape.  I casually let him know Patrick and I were going to grab food. The boy too, was away from home. In Connecticut for a week at a family wedding.  We chatted non-stop about our separate adventures.  I had been secretly bummed that he couldn’t join my adventure in Atlanta. But, at least we could text.  

I relished the Sunday afternoon. Sitting with one of my dearest friends, soaking up the day with a great person. We still had a great view of the parade as it crossed over Piedmont St.  About half a block away, it was great to see, but not get too involved. It was also just enough space to cruise for cute boys. And, Atlanta has no shortage in amazingly cute boys.  Patrick and I had all the time in the world to watch them wander by. As my gaze roamed the sea of Atlanta cuteness, one super-cute guy caught my eye. Slim. Muscular. Flowing curly locks of hair. Tall. The sun bounced and danced upon his light caramel skin. But…. Suddenly I became that 70’s Pina Colada Song.  I knew his smile in an instant, I knew the curve of his face. It was my own lovely boy…. I sprung from the table alarming Patrick and our group of dinning friends. The boy I had been obsessing over, the one in Connecticut. Just wandered by. Of, course his head was down, texting me. He was causally asking me what the name of the restaurant I had mentioned.

I ran through the crowed, I began to doubt whether I actually saw him at all.

Then, I stopped running. There he was. The most beautiful boy ever.  The crowed stopped moving, the drag queen, upon the nearby float frozen in time.  Glitter held its place in midair. The very movement of blood within my heart stopped. Nothing existed. Reality faded into a grey blur on the edges of space between my trembling hands and him.  The curve of his face. I threw my arms around him and squeezed.  The glitter began to fly again. The waving drag queen upon her float slowly came back up to speed.  

The boy had ducked out of the wedding in Connecticut and flew down to surprise me.  Following my clues of selfies and unknowingly cryptic texts. The most romantic thing anyone has ever done.  Me and my boy.  We watched the remainder of the parade. Intertwined.

Atlanta!

I've known Patrick, from Pacspad blog for many years. Countless, actually. Even though he is in Atlanta, and I am in Denver,  we have spent time visiting, face to face. Taking a cruise together, hiking together. But, all these visits have never included me going to Atlanta to see Patrick's home. That changes today. 

I am on my way to the ATL tonight to hang out with Pac, his lovely man Luis, and their kitties. The excuse was to be there for Atlanta Pride weekend, but really that's just an reason to hang out. I'm excited to see the city though, lots of resons to post Instrgrams. What? You don't follow me on Instrgram? Nice2CStevieB

Do You Voodoo?

It's been awhile since the Voodoo Doughnuts opened in our town. There was this amazing vibe around the idea the Denver had a hip and alternative doughnut shop, like exotic Portland, Oregon. Like our version our ancestors seeing an Oriental vase. Now, cheap and only sold in junk shops inside of the Aurora Mall. 

I over heard someone awhile back, bragging how many times they have gone to pick up a pick box of glazed doughnuts in recent history. How can that impress anyone? 

I had this thought as I sat at a light in front of the popular business. A line ran out the front door. The best part; however, was the small assembled groups of citizens trapesing away with their stacked pink boxes. The look of devotion upon their faces. It reminded me of another group which made a recent pilgrimage. 

One of the five pillars of Islam, is to make a pilgrimage to Makkah. This means, to be a devout follower of Islam, one must make a trip within ones lifetime to the holiest of all shrines. Annually, two million people make this holy trip. I am positive that the look on their faces after walking around the sacred shrines is one of utter happiness and contentment.

Yet, the visitors of Voodoo doughnuts have the same look? Over fat filled baked goods. I will state that I have made my own hajj to Voodoo. They didn't seem any different. I guess it all in how you market a mecca. 

War is Hell

I have been putting off writing a declaration of peace. Like a peace accord with a bitter enemy, that is now humble in defeat. I guess it would be more like The Japanese Instrument of Surrender, the written agreement that formalized the surrender of the Empire of Japan, marking the end of World War II. This symbolic act of writing has been weighting on my mind for several years now. I begin to think about it, how I would express my love and admiration, toward my fellow warriors,  then for some reason, maybe due to Post-traumatic stress disorder, I had not. 

After two years, it is time.  

It was about two years ago when I fell into the deepest and darkest of depressions. I pulled away from everyone and everything. I turned completely introverted. I had a struggle, no. A war on my hands to stay standing. To not give into the dark. During this time, I did not explain my war to anyone. It was a fight of one. A secret battle that sparked up again daily. How would anyone help in this fight? How could I even explain the tactics that the enemy was using? The enemy could not be identified. They wore no uniforms. They had no insignia. How do you plan an attack on a sneaky enemy that was invisible? My only defense was to quote Trinity’s line from the Matrix, “Get up, Trinity, get up!” I kept moving. I just kept getting up, every day. During this time of introversion, I do remember one detail. Some friends that I ghosted upon, instead of being alerted, simply left the battle field. I had not raised the alarm, but they avoided the sound of cannon fire. 

Two people grabbed whatever defenses they had, and joined the fight. 

Upon de-friending Mike, on Facebook, he immediately called my phone until I picked up.  He refused to buy any line I threw at him. He would not step away from my side. He had no ammunition, he was unarmed. His very presence began to scare away the enemy. 

The constant connection of Patrick, not letting me withdraw, was a constant reminder that I have the strength to tackle and defeat any dark army that wanted to steal me away. 

With an army of three, the defenses were built. The stone walls of the stronghold were secured. There were only three men atop the wall. But, victory came slowly and precisely. They are warriors; and should be honored and decorated as so. Their dedication should be known.  I can proudly say that I am a stronger solider because of what I saw in the battles that encompassed the war. Now, the cannons have fallen silent. There is a field of beautiful wild flowers where the battlefield once raged…Just a simple, peaceful valley. 

"Without heroes, we are all plain people, and don't know how far we can go." --- Bernard Malamud 

Goodbye Facebook

Today was my third day - Post Facebook.

I decided to disable my Facebook account three days ago. I did this upon the realization that I have only been using it to torture my roommate with Pumpkin Spice memes. That, and my Gay Doctor Who group I started years ago. I can irritate my roommate in real life anytime I want, and the Gay Doctor Who group has a co-Administrator that can continue the nerdom without me. I wont be missed.

Other than that, there has been no real use for Facebook in my life for years.  It has only served as a drain on my time. Time that could be spent on blogging. Seriously, I really need to carve more time for the priorities of my blog. The "friendships" or connections I have will either continue onto the real world, or what I suspect will happen... they will align with my suspicions and wither on the FB vine.

Day Three. This means three days of constant and unending memes on the wonders of Pumpkin Spice not being posted on my roommate's wall.  How will he survive.