Was Po the gay one?

Can you believe this is the first chance I've had to blog y'all since Sunday morning? Yeesch! Things are busy here in the city that never wakes up.

I had to get in all my hours at work, because we are going to Michigan tomorrow. This is the first Thanksgiving I have spent with family since 1992, when I was days away from moving to Seattle. I remember sitting in the bathroom after dinner, listening to everyone talking at once thinking, "I am about to leave all this." But that was as deep as I got.

Let's travel back in time for a moment -- shall we? -- to me 15 years ago. My general outlook and attitude toward life could be summed up as TeleTubby. You know how the TeleTubbies kind of skipped around, saying "La-La" and they seemed kind of pleased with everything?

That was me, 15 years ago.

I had a job as a P.R. person in my hometown of Saginaw, Michigan, making $17,000 a year. One day, I got mad at work, so I went to my boss and said, "This is my 30-day notice." I had no plans whatsoever.

La-La!

I decided to move to Seattle. I didn't really know anyone in Seattle, but I knew they read more books per capita than anyone else. I had about $700 to my name. I called this guy I sort of knew from college, who lived in a Seattle suburb, and he said, "You can stay with me!" For all I knew, he could have been some kind of perv, or woman hater, or murderer. So, I got on the train.

La-La! Eh-Oh!

Here's what I have to tell you about my first six months in Seattle. I am sure my memory is not accurate, but what I remember is being greeted by a hoard of the most fun, cool people EVER, getting a great job five minutes later, and basically spending every second either dancing at gay bars, drinking at the bar in my building at work, or having 6,000 fun, cool people over to my fun, cool apartment.

And the guy I barely knew? Microsoft millionaire. Lived rent-free in his fabulous house for a month, while he took me to fancy restaurants. He never once was inappropriate or entitled. He was great.

The whole POINT of this rant is to say that coming home for Thanksgiving is kind of a full-circle thing. I went off for years to see the world, which I did, and now I live much closer and my silly hometown suddenly seems like a booming metropolis.

I'll be back with the fam, and my mother will say "This doesn't TASTE like anything, does it?" and my stepfather will say, "Boy. This is really living." and my Uncle Jim will stick a cigarette up his nose before dessert and I am so excited I could La-La!