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Last night, Lawyerette and I had an inadvertent big gay date. Of course there were obvious issues - Iapos;m married to Pink and Lawyerette is decidedly straight. Regardless, we had dinner at Wilde Roast. Their Date Night Special is some sort of best kept secret. Twenty-five dollars you buys you a pizza and a salad (or two pizzas or two salads) and two bottomless glasses of wine. The wine isnapos;t spectacular, but itapos;s perfectly drinkable table wine (and appeared to be from a bottle with a cork if thatapos;s reassuring to you). Then we went to see Jihad for Love, a documentary about being gay in Muslim countries, at the Heights as part of Miznaapos;s 5th Annual Film Festival. Pretty depressing, but it had a few moments of levity. I had an excellent time. I stayed up too late. I plan to stay up too late tonight, too. Napping on deck for this afternoon.

Of course, Iapos;ve been thinking about the ENCORE defeat of aught eight. Iapos;m not doing a very good job at processing it. I need to acknowledge my disappointment and move on but itapos;s turning out to be way hard. I suppose itapos;s been less then twenty-four hours. It does strike me, though, that I donapos;t usually get quite this upset when I fail. I wonder if that means Iapos;m not really putting myself out there for the things I care about. Is it possible that somewhere along the way I started living a fearful life?

Enough navel gazing for one day. See you all soon. I hope to be drinking.

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