I'VE FALLEN FOR STEVE

18 February 2002

Yes, I have to admit it. After all these years, I've fallen for Steve. You know--Steve Schalchlin? The kind, loving, concerned, considerate guy who is so special to everybody? I've fallen for him. Head over heels. Or, more appropriately, heels over head, since that was the approximate position I found myself in when I slipped on a patch of ice and fell.

Kind, loving, concerned, considerate Steve ran over to help me up and as people passing by asked "are you all right?" he called back "It's OK. She has a lot of padding." Then he said, in that kind, loving, concerned, considerate tone  that only Steve can convey, "Darn--I didn't have my camera out. Would you mind lying down again so I can take your picture?" (We compromised and he just took a picture of me standing by where it happened.)

(I might have to stop hanging around that Schalchlin guy. The last time I had an accident, it was from stepping in a pothole after one of his concerts in LA. Being Steve's friend can obviously be hazardous to your health!)

I have made it home safely from Rochester. I got into the car at the airport and said "Take me anywhere--just not to an airport!") I figured I've been on planes and in airports longer than I was in Rochester itself. But, as I said, it was definitely worth it.

This morning I woke up an hour before the divo awoke so played with his computer until he opened his eye. Then he cooked breakfast for me--his special eggs wrapped in tortillas topped by Amish salsa (we wondered how many Mexican Amish there are around Rochester)

Next we went to church. Someone in the Spiritus Christi sorta-Catholic church in Rochester had invited Steve to come to their Mass. It was a chance to network for his return engagement in May, to bring all those church-going people to see The Last Session when it makes its triumphant limited-run engagement.

As for the service, it had been a long time since I'd been to Mass and if I lived in Rochester I'd go back. This church has a fascinating history and I would encourage you to read it. They have a gay outreach and recently ordained a woman and the Pope ain't happy about it. But I won't go into all the history. The thing that is notable to me is that this is a church were the spirit is very much alive. It's what a church service should be, it's what a church should be. And it's what the traditional Roman Catholic Church is no longer.

We met a wonderful woman who was a nun until two years ago. She left over the controversy surrounding spiritus christi and its beliefs. She said she read a quote from St. Thomas Aquinas which she's kept for years, which says "it's better to die excommunicated than to live in opposition to your beliefs." It's what ties her to Spiritus Christi. If you look at the history you'll see the wonderful things they've accomplished and why Rome is so unhappy. Dumb. Dumb. Dumb.

It was after Mass that I fell for Steve, and then we went back to the house to make sure I was really OK (and so Steve could take pills and read e-mail), and then he drove me out to the airport for my 2 p.m. flight.

Rochester is apparently not a town where a 2 hour check in is necessary. I was the only person checking in 2 hours ahead of time!

And then began my Oddyssey.

What a day.

First I decided to check my overnight case because I didn't want to lug it around all the airports and if it got lost en route, it would be no tragedy because I'd be home instead of 3,000 miles from home. The clerk at the desk informed me that the computer had indicated that I was to have my luggage checked. Fortunately, all that was in it was dirty clothes and clean clothes I never wore (like the hat, scarf, gloves, and leggings I brought to keep me warm--it was in the 40s the whole time I was there, except for this morning when it was dipping down into the high 20s with very light snow flurries).

After that was finished, I proceeded to the gate and as I was boarding the plane, I was told that the computer had decided that I was to be searched before boarding the plane. So they went through my carry on and I had to remove my shoes and I got the thorough going over with the wand thingy that detects metal.

The plane to Baltimore was a 10-row prop plane and not in the least comfortable. Before we could leave, they had to de-ice the plane, and the ride to Baltimore was, without question, the bumpiest ride I've ever had on a plane. It even beat the flight to and from Orkney last September. Oddly enough, rough weather on a plane has not (yet) bothered me.

We landed in Baltimore and I had a 2-hr wait there, during which time I chatted with a woman from St. Louis who was a bit of an airhead and I suspect headed for Alzheimers, judging from how many times she asked me questions that I'd already given answers to twice before. (E.g., when I told her Steve was a singer/songwriter who'd written the musical that I'd flown to Rochester to see, she asked me if he'd written the music for it and whether he performed in it or not. She asked this twice. And then we somehow got to talking about Paul and David (and people she knew who had died) and when I told her that David had crashed into a telephone pole while driving, she asked me if he'd fallen from the telephone pole. I was glad that we weren't seated together on the plane!)

As we were boarding the plane in Baltimore, the computer again singled me out for search, so again the carry-on was gone through and the shoes removed. I guess I must look like a shady character (or maybe I've stood next to someone from Yemen once in my life, as the Hag suggested).

There was an hour and a half layover in St Louis, during which time I picked up a salad at a deli for dinner (American Airlines only serves pretzels) and then back on the plane to Sacramento. Mercifully, the St. Louis computer let me pass without inspection.

It was a long leg from St. Louis to Sacramento and I was very glad to finally feel us begin the descent.

It's now 4 a.m. my body time and I'm going to sleep. I have to get to work early in the morning because I was greeted with a message from Dr. G that the bank thinks we are $2,000 overdrawn and I can't see how that is possible! I'm going to have to find that $2,000 before he gets in to the office--and go to the bank to confer with the people there to see what went wrong.

Whether I go to the club tomorrow is going to depend on how sore I am from my fall this morning when I get up.

It's also my birthday. Or--was. It's now 49 minutes past my birthday. And instead it's Peggy's birthday, so everybody turn toward Australia, wave and say "Happy Birthday, Peggy!"