It Takes Two (Wheels) to Tango

Portland is a lot like Camp Granada: They say we'll have some fun if it stops raining.

And this weekend, it/we did.

We *could* have had our fun at Portland's Pride Festival. But that seemed a little mainstream.

Bear in mind, the Cheez and I did live in West Hollywood for six years.

(and when I say "bear" I do mean this guy:



No, wait, I mean *this* guy:

)

(note to self, where do you place the ")" to close a parenthetical statement that ends with a photo of a topless hairy gay dude? That's an issue they didn't cover in my high school copy of Funk & Wagnalls)

So anyhow, instead Cheez and I did something utterly Portland: Pedalpalooza. Which, if you are too lazy/cautious/immobilized-by-your-mobile-device to click the link, is a two-week festival of biking events in and around Portland. This being Portland, "bike events" can mean things you never dreamed. Mostly soggy things.

But not this:


Yes, bike tango.

The ride met up in Jamison Park, then we biked with tango music blaring (okay, maybe that's not such a big deal) and with portable ballroom dance floor (okay, definitely that is a big deal, albeit one disassembled and folded into neat stacks, then loaded onto a damn sturdy bike trailer) to the waterfront, assembled the floor, and Cheez and Macaroni got their first ever tango lesson.

If you are looking for my usual bike in that film, note that for Sunday at least the leopard had changed her spots, and Cheez and I were riding the tandem.

Because when we left the house, he misheard and thought I'd said we were going on the tandem ride, not the tango ride.

Of course, it takes two to tandem. And to tango. And in fact it took two tandems to tango ride, because another couple showed up on tandem for the same ride.

This is, after all Portland. In any group of forty people, you will find at least 4 (aka two sets of) tandem riders.

Reminds me of the Kinsey report statistic that 10% of the population is gay.

Of course, that was only a general estimate.

In West Hollywood, it was slightly higher, maybe 110%.

In Portland, the lesbian moms also throw the statistic off in terms of 10% homo. But at 4 out of 40 we are certainly 10% bi squared, as in bi-seated bi-cycles.

In other news, I also had a piece in the New York Times this weekend. Because, as usual, war profiteering is breaking news.

Even if it's Civil War profiteering.

But the real news that's fit to upload is in this tango video:

Yes, catch the woman wearing red lacy peds.

Sexy peds, people. Who knew?

I can just imagine Allan Sherman commemorating it in song:
You remember
little Stacey
She's sporting peds that
are red n lacy
on the dance floor
quite a sight
but now the dance floor's
loaded on her bike.


Fun when it stops raining indeed.

Aflush With Pride With News of Pending Publication

Q: What do Picasso and MacaroniManiac have in common?





HINT:
It is not a penchant for leopard fashion.




No, it is that our artistic creations have both been sold at auction.

His for $106 million, aka the most money ever paid for a piece of art in an auction.

Mine, for a very nice advance for a first-time novelist, aka somewhat less than $106 million.




Q: What do Queen Elizabeth II, Her Royal Highness, and MacaroniManciac have in common?



DOUBLE HINT:

Once again, not about the leopard.

No, it is that Lizzie Deuce and I are both worthy of a pre-empt in the U.K.

She, pre-empting whatever happens to be scheduled-pronounced-sheduled on British telly, with coverage of anything newsworthy the palace does, such as going to war over the Falkland Islands or bidding farewell to her ex-daughter-in-law or bidding a fonder farewell to her corgies.

And I, for my novel, which yes dears, not only sold North American rights at auction this week but also UK rights in a pre-empt.

Which means that while some readers will be devouring the story of Mary Bowser's journey from slavery to being a free woman of color, others will get Mary Bowser's journey from slavery to being a free woman of colour.

This is VERY VERY VERY VERY exciting news.

Needless to say, the Cheez and I are celebrating.

By installing a new dual-flush, low-flo toilet!!!!

Only kidding.

Really our neighbor Don installed it.

Of course, going greener (regardless of whether you are going number 1 or number 2) is only one of the Portlandish ways we celebrated.

We began by paying a visit to Mecca.
NOTE: that is a Union kepi, not a Confederate kepi.

My slogan being not the South will rise again but rather the Mac will read again.




We dressed up from the kepi down, and had friends over for an impromptu cocktail party.








But mostly, we've run around the house screaming.

Still, just in case we hadn't screamed it loud enough for you to hear wherever you may be:

MY NOVEL GOT SOLD THIS WEEK AND I AM GOING TO BE PUBLISHED ON TWO CONTINENTS AND MORE MAYBE WHEN THE REST OF THE FOREIGN RIGHTS GET HASHED OUT (PLEASE MENTION TO ANY CIVIL WAR-OBSESSED JAPANESE PUBLISHERS YOU HAPPEN TO KNOW) AND YAY YAY YAY, etc.

The novel will be out in early 2012. Between now and then, I need to do final edits based on my editor's comments.

And, according to my friend Sue, practice saying things like, Thanks, Terry, it's great to be here.

And figure out what leopard print goes best with blue kepi.

And of course start writing my next book.

I'm not 100% sure what it will be. The footnote from history angle was clearly the big hook for the first novel. But for the next one, I'm thinking maybe something Cubist. And trading in that kepi for a beret.

My State of the Disunion Address

I know, I know. I have been pathetically inept at blogging. I apologize. It's not that I don't love you and miss you and want to blog to you. It's just that I've been away.

Far away.

In the nineteenth century.
Wait a minute, that's not my Civil War uniform.



It's my Pie Liberation Army apron. Worn whenever I must defend the Union of Crust and Filling.

Suffice it to say, I am not one to dessert my post.

Not unless the infantry band is playing a rousing chorus of Mine Eyes Have Seen the Glory of the Coming of the Lard.

But let's get back--way back--to the Civil War.

Which as it turns out is late-breaking news. As in, the New York Times is sesquicentennially blogging the Civil War in real time.

Inasmuch as they had blogs, or computers, or even electrons back in 1861.

Well, I guess they had electrons. They just didn't know it. Like some sort of subatomic halitosis that their friend were just too polite to mention.

Let me be clear: I am a normal, red-blooded American.

Which means the Civil War bored the hell out of me when we had to study it in school, just like it did you and every one else.

So how did I become so obsessed with the conflict that I now receive form letters addressed to Dear Civil War Enthusiast?*

*NOTE: I don't actually receive those letters. They are mailed to me. But if the Cheez gets to them first, he grabs them and runs around the house mocking me.

Let me tell you, when you are being mocked by a Canadian, you know you have fallen low.

Anyway, I became obsessed by the Civil War while accidentally writing a novel. About the Civil War. Which I've been working on, on and off, for, well let's just say I could have fought the Civil War in less time.

So Ulysses S. Grant me a few more minutes of your what-the-heck-you're-already-screwing-around-on-the-internet-time and surf on over to the New York Times to see just how groovy and interesting the Civil War can be, when served up with a healthy portion of MacaroniManiac.