Last weekend was a crazy one. But good. Really, really good. My girl had some friends in from out of town, and we took in the Equality Fest, a well-known restaurant on the water, and card games, all of which require actually being awake. Between lunch and cards, I managed a nap since I had decided to forgo venturing to a local casino and seeking a pecan pie at The Pecan House.
There are few words as clear as pecan that’ll out out-of-towners quicker-n-anything. Just in case you’re wondering, it’s puh-cahn’, not pee’-can. There is no pee in my can. Although, I must admit, Biloxi (Buh-lux’-ee not buh-locks’-ee and Dedeaux (dee’-doh not dee-dux’) come close. In the outing, that is, not in the putting pee in my can.
I read once that they had to redub the entire dialog for Biloxi Blues because of the pronunciation of Biloxi.
But I digress.
We played cards: Cards Against Humanity the first night, cackling and “oof-ing” as cards were flipped, and Phase 10—which I still don’t understand the strategy part, but still manage to win once in a while. And we howled. And laughed. And occasionally, my dog would act as distraction so that I could get ahead in Phase 10.
Important note to self: I really need expansion packs for Cards Against Humanity. The Bigger, Blacker Box seems appropriate.
I spent what spare time I had before the visit periodically stressing and cleaning. New people, house a mess, not to mention my thoughts of how on earth I was going to manage staying at the festival for any significant period of time, much less do anything else with them.
I didn’t want to be anti-social. (Whaaat?) I didn’t want to be “that girl,” who slowed everyone else down. And I really, really didn’t want to burst into tears in front of anyone, much less people I had never met before.
I’ve mentioned I tend to borrow trouble a lot. This was definitely one of those times.
One of my favorite Doctor Who moments is when the 9th Doctor says:
“Everybody lives, Rose! Just this once — everybody lives!”
The significance of this is that the Doctor, who has seen (and caused, for that matter) so much death, so much destruction, discovers that the so-called danger (well, the danger OTHER than hanging from a barrage balloon with a Union Jack shirt in the middle of World War II or, you know, dying in a German air raid), was actually a misunderstanding, an incomplete picture. And what seemed so ominous and dangerous and bad is really good—just incomplete.
And so he’s ecstatic, because, as he says, just this once everybody lives.
And that was this past weekend.
First on the itinerary was the first ever Gulf Coast Equality Fest. I absolutely wanted to attend and be counted. Food, music, a drag show, and quite a few vendors, and, to my surprise, quite a few big named sponsors. To sponsor an LGBT festival in Mississippi is a big thing to me.
But I did it, with hook and cane, traversing an especially bouncy ground, and I did it for several hours. I didn’t browse the vendors like I had wanted to, but I did do it without breaking down into tears between booths.
That’s a win. That’s a major win.
My friend djPaddy deejayed the event, and another friend had her skin care wares for sale. I splurged and bought a couple of bath bombs—Unicorn Poop and Lick Me All Over—because, really, how can you NOT buy bath products with names like those? Hell, I may switch from showers to baths just because I now have things with names like those?
I was able to see other friends, and suddenly my world—which had shrunk to work, home and my girl, the occasional (like blue moon occasional) seeing of my parents or a friend for coffee—was so much larger.
And it was so very splendid.
I put flowers in her hair and kissed her and we strolled around the park with a bouncy walking track.
It was beautiful and breezy and we were in very good company.
And everybody lives.
Just once, everything was right in the world.
Afterward, there was napping and soreness, and, three days later, I’m just getting right again.
But for one day, my world was so much larger, and everybody lives.