Woke up from a dream about one of my best friends from high school, Kim. I was at a restaurant with some friends; I think I had been talking about her; and there she was. She found a table by herself and I excused myself to join her. She asked about the family, and suddenly I realized that she was only asking so that she could have some juicy gossip to spread. I got very tight-lipped.

The last time I saw Kim in real life was our 15th high school reunion. We spent a couple very close years in high school. We won the duet acting award at a forensics competition with a scene from Twelfth Night in which I played Viola/Cesario wooing her Olivia. I picked the scene. It should have been an early clue to my future life, but I still hadn't caught on.

Kim and I actually had our first lesbian experiences at about the same time. She did it first and accused me of copying her. But I mean, geesh, she was going to school at freakin' Radclyffe. If I'd been up there instead of backwoods Ala-freakin'-bama, you can bet I would've realized I was a lesbian by the second day of my freshman year.

Kim's lesbianism was a phase. You know, lesbian 'til graduation. We had a brief affair one summer when we were both living in our hometown between semesters, and it was not that great. I kept being afraid she would get attached and want to keep being girlfriends. I managed to squirm my way out of that.

The biggest problem I always had with Kim was that she had this sort of "perfect hostess" facade she could superglue on at a moment's notice. Biiiig fake. She always seemed to be "on". I'd get tired just from being around her after a while, but we seemed to have an okay rapport. I could make her laugh, and I don't think it was the fake one.

But when I saw her at the reunion, she was extremely uncomfortable just talking to me. I think my outness intimidated or scared her. She didn't want anyone ever finding out about her lesbian phase, including her current fiance. That's a good way to start the lifelong commitment, with a big secret in your past. I think she'll eventually give herself a nervous breakdown with all the working and flitting and pretending.

I would never out Kim. She wants it kept a secret, fine with me. But if one of Kim's ex-lovers from her Harvard/Radclyffe days happened to be a reader of mine ... There wouldn't be anything wrong with comparing notes.

I did a drive-by mowing on most of the block yesterday: our front and back yard, Jake and Sara's front and back yard, the front yard of the sold house next door (still no sign of the new "single gentleman" owner), and Ricky and Lucy's front yard. I tried to do R&L's back yard too, but their adult Jack Russel terrier came out and gave me a look like, "What the HELL are you doing?" I didn't want to risk hurting him with flying lawnmower debris, so I let it go. It didn't need mowing much anyway. And I did a big patch of roadside weeds on the far side of the sold house. I think people are less likely to throw garbage out there if it's mowed.

When Lucy and Ricky came home, they brought over a gift bag filled with Miller Lites (A brand no one in the family will drink, but what can you say? Take this shit back? We'll invite them over in a couple weeks and serve it to them.) and a frozen venison roast. The bag said "You MOW, girl." Heh. They're so cool.

I had planned to do the yard of the new gay boy flight attendents, but they did it themselves on Saturday. They haven't been particularly sociable since they moved in. Maybe Mssrs Humongous Screen TV think they're better than us.

After all the mowing I did a butt-load of dishes, and then sat out on the front stoop and enjoyed the day. Watched a mockingbird gather nesting material under the dogwood tree. The mockingbirds haven't been too loud in the early morning hours so far this year, knock wood. There's nothing more obnoxious than a persistent mockingbird trying to get laid by doing ALL of his calls, over and over, starting at 4 a.m.

Deb made a fabulous green chili stew for dinner, followed by peach ice cream, and chocolate stuff (made by moi) from a "Sweet Potato Queens' Book of Love" recipe.

I sent Saturday's entry to Angela Motter, and she actually took the time read it. She said she wants to link the Badsnake page to her newsletter the next time she updates. Woo-hoo! Sadly, she didn't admit that she's had a crush on me for ten years, too, and invite me to come to her house for a weekend of wild sex. She probably didn't want to wear herself out before the tour.

And speaking of getting worn out, it's Monday date night! Yay! After that day-long meeting, I'm going to need it. Sara's reading the first book of a vampire trilogy, so we all know who I'll be tonight. Yes, the handsome anti-hero, Julian. I love being him.

That's all for now. It was a beautiful, well-lived weekend. That's the best you can ask for.

Best quote from last week's Gilmore Girls, which Deb and I watched on tape Saturday night ...

Lorelai: I try to talk to my mother. I think I'm being clear. But all she hears is "blah blah blah blah Ginger."