'Til The Cows Come Home

Now And Then

I got dressed up in a suit and tie and went to church this morning. To be fair, I was paid to be there. But still. Lightning didn't strike when I entered the building and I lived to tell the tale.

My last church experience was my father's funeral, as evidenced by the fact that the original copy of his eulogy was still in my suit jacket pocket. That whole ordeal left me with a very sour taste in my soul for organized religion, even more so than usual. So I was pleasantly surprised to have had a positive experience with it this morning, regardless of the paycheck.

Home now, having a rare shared evening with K. He's fully wrapped up in his big Broadway show so we're in that "Who are you? What's your name again?" phase. If the show gets good press and some Tony nominations then we'll be in that mode for a while.

But for now we're enjoying a quiet night. K.'s hard at work in the kitchen, cooking up some lamb stew. I'm being a slug and watching the original Star Wars trilogy marathon on cable before the Academy Awards start. Han Solo just got unfrozen, Princess Leia is about to make her metal bikini debut and the Rancor is getting hungry. I love it - I feel like I'm ten years old again.

Except for that whole gay lover cooking me dinner part.