It was a humid day in San Diego, my clothes stuck to my body like plastic wrap.  The day reminded me of my grandmother and then I longed for one of her tall, sweating ice cold glasses of sweet tea.   

** JULY 3: Happy Birthday brother Randy. You enrich my life immeasurably.

And Croquet at Redwood Circle followed by Rook at Ann and Nancy’s. Doesn’t get any better than that!

** July 4: Thanks Susan Fosselman for hosting a jubilant July 4th barbecue and party. I got to celebrate with friends and also meet a new batch of your neighbors and friends. Your laugh is righteous, Susan! HU AH!

There are times when time has no meaning, when it makes its point easily — everything happens at once — I had such a time this afternoon, rare but always praised.

Vision to See
Faith to Believe
Courage to Do

– from the LA train station sundial

I had a deep massage today.  My forehead and cheeks were pressed hard against the padding around the oval opening at the head of the massage table.  When my masseur worked his thumbs into the back of my knees, I dripped tears through the oval opening onto the floor.

The split second memory that dropped my tears got away from me but I’ll get it back.     

I heard today that Mom recently “got into” a movie with Jodie Foster, talking when Jodie talked and getting very excited when she came on the screen.  The hospice volunteer couldn’t remember the name of the movie.  But I think I know which one it is. 

The Gay Money Bank finally has enough gay money in it to matter — now gay people can begin to attain rights based not on their matching genitalia but on how much money they have in the bank.  To contribute.  To political campaigns. 

Everyone understands money.    

For what it’s worth, I happen to approve of this political path to equality.   

arrived this morning into the hands of Ann Garwood and Nancy Moors, the Hillcrest artists who create and publish HILLQUEST every year.  It is currently being distributed all over town.   

I enjoyed telling the story of Filbert’s Tree and calling up my memories of Leonard Matlovich. 

Now deal the cards. . . 

It happened. New York state legalized a union between couples of the same sex today. This is great news. The first thought that came to my mind is the following:

When my grandfather, Papa, my mother’s father, found out I had bought a house with Luke on Vashon Island, he called me on the phone.

“I hear you have yourself a bed feller,” Papa said.

I was speechless, a rarity for me.

“Feller needs to stay warm at night,” he said.

He was right. Love is about staying warm at night. What does that have to do with gender?

I’ve been reading Michael Connelly for months now.  I know his character, Detective Hieronymus (Harry) Bosch, better than I know some of my friends — that’s because I don’t get to sit in on my friends’ therapy sessions.

Anyway, Connelly’s books are a surprising accompaniment to the new book I’m working on. It’s my life story. Detective Bosch has taught me how to walk into a crime scene and make sense of it.

The truth and nothing but.