Following is a cut-n-paste of my post from one year ago, today. I suppose that replaying a blog post is cheesy, or lazy, or even self-aggrandizing. But the miracle of this piece still amazes me. And what a fine piece it is...

Love Under a Hale-Bopp Sky (or Getting Some Birthday Tail)
Seven years ago today, Comet Hale-Bopp made its closest approach to Earth.

And seven years ago today, I went to a stranger's birthday party, alone, on a whim.

First of all, I'm not much of a "social crowd" person. In fact, I typically avoid/dread parties or other social gatherings, even when I know and love the people in attendance. But there I was, voluntarily attending a party where I knew only two people, a lesbian couple I'll call Tee & Dee. Tee worked the snack bar at the health club and was my "barkeep confidante." It was Tee who had passed me an invitation to the bash, then made me promise to attend.

Tee and Dee were best friends with the guest of honor, a handsome, strapping guy, with a really nice butt. I had seen him around the health club and consistently sized him up as Trouble. Fine-ass Trouble, but Trouble. In fact, I remembered once watching him squeal his 1993 Cobra Mustang, out of the club parking lot. Grow up, I thought to myself.

Also, at this time, I had a boyfriend. A sweet, steady, reliable boyfriend, 13 years my senior. Okay, maybe he was a tad boring. Okay, maybe he was a lot boring. But he was sweet and steady and reliable and....out of town for the weekend.

While I was pretty wild in high school and college, seven years ago today I considered myself unremarkably staid. Just a few years out of grad school, I was enjoying a new profession. I ate healthy, worked out and drank pink wine out of a box, weekends only.

I don't know if it was the safety of anonymity or the Tequila Shooters or the Hot Damn! slammin', or simply comet kismet, but 7 years ago today, under the Hale-Bopp Trail, this unremarkably staid, middle-aged, social-working woman, had a highly remarkable evening.

Fast Forward Seven Years to the Moment:
I have 35 pounds of precocious Trouble sleeping upstairs, a sweet and steady and reliable, middle-aged man in my living room, and in my garage, a 1993 Cobra Mustang.

Happy Birthday, Honey.
I love you.
Zoom. Zoom.

Oh yeah, in appreciation of your giving me the best Trouble I've ever had, this Hella Bopp's for you:

It's a comet's tale,
Of trajected fate.
And tequila shots,
At Heaven's Gate.

With a fine-assed boy
In a badass car,
Her leashed reserve,
Unleashed too far.

While Counting Crows
Called out the dawn,
Fallen soldiers
Graced the lawn.

Where dark of heart
Did once prevail,
Floats the golden shim
From a Comet's Tale.

Fast Forward March 22, 2005:
Happy 43.
Olive Oil.
Zoom, Baby.

P.S. And thanks, back then, for slowing down just enough, to make it a fair chase. And then cancelling the restraining order. Zoom. Zoom.

Labels: Manpie