I'm back from my weekend in the country. It was wonderful to get away to some fresh air and different surroundings.
We stayed with one of Steve's friends in a log cabin located just south of St. Louis. The cabin was beautiful and the dogs (our dogs, Riley and Jason) loved being off leash in a huge wooded area. The cabin is owned by one of Steve's former Chicagoan friends. This friend and his partner now live in D.C. and use the cabin as a getaway destination. We stayed at the cabin with that couple and another.
Steve and I are an interracial couple. I hardly ever think about it. More times than not, someone will mention it to me and I'll think, "oh yeah...he's white, isn't he?" Staying with the interracial host couple (who are also black and white) and their other guests, a black and Asian gay couple, made me feel as if we were involved in some "colorized" version of Love! Valour!Compassion!
I got to see a good friend of mine while we were down St. Louis way. A few years back, I moved back to my hometown for one year. In that year, I befriended a young gay student at my alma mater. He was cute and sweet and I decided that, rather than take advantage of him, I would try to be his gay mentor. I think I did pretty well. He is smart, out, not a slut, civic-minded, and he dresses well (especially for a white boy from MO). It was great to see my "pumpkin" and have him meet Steve.
The biggest highlight of the trip to the cabin had to be the fireworks. I have lived in IL most of my life. Fireworks have been illegal here since I was a kid. Our host asked us to pick up some fireworks for the Independance Day celebration (which we actually celebrated on Sunday). Steve went crazy like a nympho in a dick factory. He wanted to buy everything they had in stock. I kept trying to calm him down. I reminded him that we will eventually have to retire and would rather that he not spend all of the money on explosives. We left the Fireworks Palace with over $200 worth of bombs, fountains, bottle-rockets, and loud booming thing-a-ma-bobs. When the party got to full tilt boogie, it was time for the fireworks display. Since Steve, our host, and I had smoked plenty of weed, I was ready to blow things up. And just like that, I became a pyrotechnics expert. I put on an hour long fireworks extravaganza with some periodic help from Steve and another guest that nearly set our host's lawn on fire.
I don't normally celebrate the 4th of July but I have to say that this year was a good one.