Be Proud

It’s hot today. Hot for Oakland, that is. It’s got to be at least eighty out here in the shade. I do realize that’s nothing compared to real heat, but heck, if Oakland got real heat, I’d move. I hate being too warm. It’s kind of a problem sometimes. Most of my life I’ve actually rather dreaded summertime, for the sole reason that it’s soooo far from fall and winter and the brisk cool weather that I adore.

This season, however, I’m kind of digging this whole summer thing. I’ve been outside more, maybe that helps. I haven’t had a garden in so long that I had forgotten how nice it is just to be outside, yet still in your own space. And I’ve got so many fun things planned that when I open my calendar I’m kind of overwhelmed. In a good way, mind you. Diamonds on the soles of my shoes, I know.

THIS weekend, party people, is Pride. I’ve got several parties lined up tomorrow before the Dyke March, which to me and my friends is what Pride is all about. You can keep the big scary parade on Sunday with the millions of people thronging to watch men in very little leather, but the Dyke March, oh, yeah. Especially Dykes on Bikes. Cliched, yes. But there is NOTHING like standing on the sidewalk, watching them line up, and looking down the street and realizing that you can’t even see the end of the women on motorcycles, they go for so many blocks. You can’t talk to your friends because of the roar that shakes the ground, but you can point and whoop and jump up and down. Then they all roar off in a wondrous thunder and thousands of women say, “oooooohhhhh,” all in unison.

It’s a lovely thing.

This year, a group of friends and I are doing the same thing we did last year. We’ll watch the bikes leave, and then go around the march by walking back streets until we get to the strategically parked pick-up truck. We’ll open all the doors and windows, crank the stereo, get in the back and dance as the marchers go by. This time, I’m telling you, I’m bringing candy to throw.

Basically it’s lesbian mardi gras. What could be better?

On Sunday, we have a training run, though, so I can’t/won’t drink very much tomorrow or I’ll be HURTING. And then we hope to go down to the parade afterwards and shake a coffee can for marathon donations. I kind of hate fundraising like that, and I kind of like it. I’m good at it. It all goes into the Team 911 fund, along with the awesome Rosenblum Grant (I like the sound of that). I’ve been doing a lot to try to raise the money for the team, so all four of us can go. It sucks to fundraise (how is that even a verb?), but I wasn’t raised by a grant-writer for nothin’. I’m dedicated enough to this marathon that I’m happy to work hard to help my friends.

But in my personal marathon account, dear friends, I’m up to $2701.20. Yes, you DID read that right. Is that amazing? I am still in AWE. Kind of an odd total, though, isn’t it? I shouldn’t spill what someone donated (tacky, I know) but I hope my friend Hedi (of Mariko fame) won’t mind that I tell you that she donated $26.20. I sat at work and just stared at that amount, willing it to make sense. Was she adding tax? Then I got it.

26.2 miles = marathon. Isn’t that the best?

Where was I? Oh, yes. I’ve decided that all this street-pounding work I’ve been doing for Team 911 is great, but it’s all going into the team account. My personal account will be made up of knitters. It’s YOU. My own marathon is backed by friends I’ve made through this very blog, and I feel so lucky and so happy and so blessed that I can say that. And so proud of my little on-line family!

I still have those moments in which I think, “What the hell am I doing? I’m not athletic. I don’t run. I barely (hah! Typo: barfly) walk. I can’t ever ever ever run a marathon.” I actually had this conversation with myself this morning before my bath. Then I thought of you all. You believe in me. I will, too.

(And check OUT my new sponsor button on the right that Melissa made for me. How cool is she? Go ahead, baby. Steal it!)

Have a Proud weekend! See you Monday. Love.