What was I thinking? The weather forecast for the Northwest was “partly cloudy, showers”, generally a safe bet, so I wore a big black raincoat and layers for my trip to Seattle and Portland. Had I forgotten the daffodils during the Vancouver Olympics? Forsythia, flowering quince, blooming tulip trees and blindingly blue skies greeted my squinting, and grateful eyes for my Northwest sojourn.

After a great lunch at Seattle’s Wild Ginger with producer/activist Paul Bauer who had picked me up at SeaTac in his black El Camino, I had a quick nap. I woke up with a quick Starbucks double latte – I did not notice any open-carry weaponeers in the order line – and headed to the Triple Door Theater for two shows produced by Square Peg Entertainment. The second show at 1030p, my 130a, was a wild ride, but thanks to Sarah Palin, it’s now okay to write my whole show cheat sheet on my hand, so I was fine.

The next day, I was off to Portland, the City of Roses, and was met by my artist rep, Tam Martin and her partner Carol Daebrl, who gave me a tour of their new digs and then took me to a great lunch at Wildwood restaurant. It was great to see Tam in person again after months of emailing and phoning. As Carol stared into space, Tam and I caught up on the dish of our biz.

That night Tam and I attended the annual Oregon ACLU Liberty dinner. The very chatty, optimistic affair honored the work of Candace Morgan, librarian, champion of intellectual freedom and steely populizer of Banned Books Week. OR ACLU also honored the work of Dr. Peter Goodwin, physician and one of the movers and shakers behind the Death with Dignity Act passed in 1999 in Oregon. Executive Director, David Fidanque gave a great speech on the serious assaults on civil liberties even during the Obama administration. The speech was a perfect set-up for some comedy and that’s where I came in. The courage and tenacity of the attendees was invigorating.

I made it back to NYC in time for some Oscar couch potatoing. I was wearing GAP. In honor of Women’s History Month, the Oscars presented a tribute to Horror Shows, which should have been called “Men Attacking Women.” Ugh. I consoled myself with Penelope Cruz.

Just washed ashore from the RSVP cruise, and should have my land legs back any day now. I need a Dramamine to go to the Duane Reade.

I met up with my 2,200 mateys on the Eurodam in Curacao last Tuesday and they were in crazy good form. They had already had a sail away theme party, a Valentines party and when I arrived they were in Carnival Masquerade mode. You should have seen the two Avatars! These guys don’t mess around. They plan for two or three costume changes a day. I was unable to ask them how big their luggage was, due to silly double entendre problems.

When they weren’t party planning, the guests were entertained by the dynamic duo of Amy and Freddy, the Guys Who Would be Divas, and the comedy stylings of Paul Williams and Danny McWilliams. In honor of my comedy cohorts, I changed my name to Esther Williams. The RSVP staff was endlessly accommodating.

We arrived Saturday morning in Ft. Lauderdale and I deshipped, or whatever it’s called, and went to the gorgeous Atlantic Resort Hotel, one of the big sponsors of many local LGBT events. After I checked in, I ran right into the concierge who I knew when he owned a beautiful shop in Ptown. When I went for a walk to see if I could, I ran into the retired postmaster from Ptown. I had lunch that day with four friends from Ptown. It was old homo week.

That night I performed to a wonderful sold out house at The Amaturo Theatre in the Broward Center for the Performing Arts. It was the last night of their big and getting bigger ten day ArtsUnited Festival. Under the stewardship of Keith Clark, ArtsUnited brings LGBT culture – writers, artists, film-makers, musicians, comics – to Florida. Every visiting artist, especially those from wintry northern latitudes, want to stay extra days.

But next day, I left and drove to Ft. Meyers for a show at the Carefree Clubhouse. Again, more friendly faces from Ptown! Has anyone checked the live videocam feed from in front of Spiritus to see if anyone is left in Ptown? It was great to be in that community of women. Many are retired and are having a blast there – canoeing, volunteering, painting, writing, swimming, being the much visited favorite auntie. None of them can figure out how they had time to work. What I enjoy most is how well they take care of each other.

Back in NYC, snow expected this afternoon. Back to Polartec.

*Land-based Lesbian

When the Supremes ruled 5-4 in Citizens United v. The Federal Election Commission – AKA Capitalism v. Democracy – I got that old familiar cement block on sternum feeling of despair that I haven’t had since Bush v. Gore, another vote from our resident terrorist cell #5.

According to the ruling, corporations can spend unlimited funds on political advertising in any political election. Or they can just threaten to. What candidate wants to piss off Citibank by saying, “If you’re too big to fail, you’re not too big to be regulated.”

The Supremest, Chief Umpire John Roberts, who claimed in his confirmation hearing that his job is just to call balls and strikes, threw the entire game, along with judicial restraint and precedent. He must be on the take from someone. Oh right. Corporations.

In one of the biggest insults to personhood ever, the Roberts’ Court ruled that corporations are the same as people and therefore have the right to free speech. The “and those people are mostly straight white males” was understood.

That my darling LGBT community thinks that by the strength of our incredible, obvious logic, we will be able to sway this willfully illogical, camera-shy Supreme Court to see the unconstitutionality of CA’s Prop 8 is poignant.

May they prove me wrong.

That was the slogan of the 22nd Annual National Conference on LGBT Equality in Dallas, Texas. Good thing we weren’t in Rhode Island. Don’t get me wrong, there’s a lot of LGBT organizing happening in RI.

Two thousand activists from all over the world – big shout out to forty activists from the Artistic Revolution Gang from Arkansas – attended the five-day conference, AKA “Creating Change”. The confab sponsored by the National Gay and Lesbian Task Force featured practical workshops, day-long skill-building institutes, national organization convenings, award ceremonies, constant conversation, cruising and large plenaries, which I had the pleasure of emceeing.

The first plenary program featured Thomas Saenz, the president and general counsel of the Mexican American Legal Defense and Educational Fund [MALDEF] who outlined how our communities intersect. We all are undocumented, outside the full constitutional guarantees and suffer from a courage deficit from Washington, DC. Next, NGLTF’s executive director, Rea Carey gave the annual state of the movement address: our movement is still strong and quite pissed. Saturday, the writer and editor, Kai Wright moderated a totally inspiring panel of young LGBT leaders who made me feel like I could retire. But why would I? It’s just getting really fun again. Sunday’s closing plenary brunch, traditionally devoted to LGBT arts and activism, featured the House/Ballroom sensation Vogue Evolution, who brought down what was left of the Sheraton.

Conference co-chairs, Russell Roybal and Sue Hyde, closed out the conference and invited everyone to come to Minneapolis, MN next year for the 23rd gathering of the tribe. Slogan suggestion: It’s Cold. We’re Hot.

I tell you all this because the same weekend that 2000 people attended the Creating Change Conference in Dallas to bring the country we love to a more just future, 600 people attended the Teabagger Convention in Nashville to bring the government they hate back to the racist and sexist values of 1773. They wore more drag than Creating Change. We would not do the powdered patriot wigs.

Creating Change did not get as much media coverage as the Teabaggers. I know you are shocked. For more about the conference and NGLTF see HYPERLINK “http://www.theTaskForce.org” www.theTaskForce.org.

See you next year!!

Is over. On the eve of the new decade, we were in Provincetown, but were unable to have our annual beach fire because of snow and high wind. At the annual ritual, we jot down things we want to burn up from the old year and toss them in the fire.

Some whiny friends seemed relieved that we called it off, but even I could not have gotten my secret fire starter, the duraflame log [known in Manhattan as deli-wood] started. And the snow would have wreaked havoc with our planned paper mache piñata of Joe Lieberman. Instead we lit our papers as we stood on the front porch and let the wind take the ash onto the snowy garden. No telling what that mulch will do to the day lilies come spring.

We clomped back into the warm house for a potluck dinner that had been intentionally carbo-loaded for cold people returning from the rigors of a long winter beach fire. My Indianized lasagna, loaded with hoarded leftovers – curried chickpeas, coconut green beans, and reduced turmeric ricotta – was a big hit. Everyone had “just a sliver” of chocolate mousse cake with the dark chocolate frosting with white frostinged “Peace, Love, Forgiveness and Joy” brought by our favorite Buddhist

After dinner, before the torpor of the holiday meal hit, we talked. From the probable retirement of Supreme Court Justice Stevens, to the gay death penalty in Uganda, gay marrying in New Hampshire, to the David Boies/Ted Olsen Prop 8 gambit, to repeal chances for Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell, to the yummy chocolate mousse cake. I brought that up.

Though not as dreary as some glum dinners during the Bush years, we bummed ourselves about President Obama’s challenges in the new year: The Great Recession, The Health Insurance Bill, bankster bonuses, joblessness, mid-term elections and the Christmas terrorist threat. Not the papal tackler at the ten o’clock midnight mass at the Vatican. Real gate-crashers. Despite all kinds of dots to connect – a distraught father at the US Embassy, a name on the terror watch list, and a one-way ticket – the CIA, the FBI and Homeland Insecurity are still getting on like cats in a sack.

One astute guest wondered, “Why do terrorists even buy one-way tickets?” They are a first alert red flag for terrorist watchers. Ask anyone who has just been frisked in the line for the NY to DC shuttle. Round-trip tickets are cheaper. It’s not like terrorist ticket buyers are going to be penalized if they don’t use the return flight. They’ll be above the friendly skies with their seventy-two black-eyed virgins or golden raisins, depending on which Koran translation you’re using, fundamentalist or food channel.

Everybody was allowed to leave before ten p.m., the new Catholic midnight, to observe his or her own rituals for bringing in the New Year. Even though I think it might be bad form to tell you, I burned “television watching”. Nonetheless, as we were cleaning up the kitchen, I turned on the TV so we could watch the ball drop, get annoyed by the uberhost Ryan Seacrest and worry about Dick Clark, but our two-year-old TV had died! Dead. Perhaps the CNN Kathy Griffin appearance killed the TV when we weren’t looking.

I hope the rest of my incinerated items get as immediate a response. Again, I won’t tell you what they were, but here’s a hint: look at the top of the cake.

Just returned from emceeing the 25th Annual Gay & Lesbian Leadership Conference in San Francisco. The opening night reception was held in the gorgeous SF City Hall, with a welcome by the equally gorgeous Mayor Newsom. We toasted to the courage of SF’s Harvey Milk who thirty years ago urged gays out of the closet, into the streets and then into the seats of power.

The next two days featured panels [life not death panels] on the state of the movement, social networking; plenaries on international LGBT work, green economies and a great conversation with WI Congresswoman Tammy Baldwin and CO’s newbie Congressman Jared Polis moderated by the witty Jonathan Capeheart. Hidden in the bowels of the hotel there was a boot camp training for 40 LGBTs who plan to run for office. They emerged tired and squinting, but bursting with info and enthusiasm for running a successful campaign.

Of course there was also lots of schmoozing, adult beverages and late night appreciating of SF. I prefer to call it ideation. The Victory Fund is fully committed to getting LGBT leaders elected to office from the local to the national level. It’s nothing I have the stomach for – I fantasize adult behaviors like throwing pink smoke bombs onto the Senate Floor whenever Joe Lieberman speaks. I am glad LGBT people have the guts and cojones for elected office and I was honored to be with them.

My last official duty of 2009 was co-hosting the Out Music Awards, an ambitiously planned evening at Webster Hall in NY, to honor LGBT singers and songwriters. With many live performances, award presentations and acceptance speeches the bad news is that the night did run long. Good news? I finished my on-line holiday shopping, started and finished my greeting cards, gave myself and my co-host a manicure, learned Spanish and prayed that this wasn’t what hell was going to be like.

With the Yes on K8 tour complete, I have grounded myself for a few weeks and plan only to use my Xootr for transportation. I believe in hibernation and plan to use my time wisely. Since I finished most of my tasks at the Ouch Music Awards, I’m free to take naps, watch movies, see friends, read, write and plan for 2010’s Lady HaHa Tour. It’s going to be a lot of laughs.

Some have asked, “How did YOU get invited to the White House State dinner?” The incredulity of the question implies we were like the reality couple that crashed the dinner. They were the first couple we saw when we arrived by taxi. I’m not one of those new security behavioral observers, nor do I play one on TV, but they seemed odd.

They came with a camera crew and their exit from a black stretch Hummer limo was well-lit in the dim evening. She was a tall thin blonde in a garish red beaded sari-esque something and he was stocky, grinning junior high coach looking guy. They stood behind us in line. I heard her tell Pepsico’s CEO, Indra Nooyi how they’d just gotten back from India and that it was great shopping. Does wincing make a sound?

Okay is two paragraphs enough on that episode before the whole amazing evening gets derailed by those self-serving balloon boy gate crashers and the media makes a four day news cycle out of If-Obama-can’t-protect-the-White-House-how-will-he-protect-the-country-narrative like it was some kind of 9.11 breach? Ugh.

As an Indian and long time activist Urvashi was invited and she brought me. Since we were in a very diverse room for mainstream DC where media and government boldface names were gathered, we vowed to work it.

At the cocktail reception, we met as many people as we could and after suitably pleasant openers, pushed either for LGBT equality or for peace. Both if we had time. When we were hustled through the receiving line to meet the very cool President Obama, the very hot First Lady, and the Indian guests of honor, Urvashi thanked Mr. Obama for what he is trying to do and suggested he be tougher on the right wing. I seconded that. Urvashi and I held hands and represented as we walked past the press. We worked the dining room. At our table we again inserted peace and full equality whenever we could. It wasn’t like, “Pass the papardam, I’m a pro-choice, pro-peace lesbian, here’s the chutney.” But close.

During the entertainment, before Jennifer Hudson practically blew the tent down, I sat thinking how ironic it was that a month earlier we had been in DC for the Equality March. We weren’t gassed or thrown in jail and there we were at a state dinner sitting next to the CEO of Tata in India and the new US Commerce Secretary.

Others have asked, “WHAT did you wear?” Since you asked, Urvashi wore a red silk kurta with an embroidered shawl, and I wore a knee length black Nehru-esque jacket and pants with an orange scarf.

If you are coming to New York City during the holidays and you want to see a show – book some tickets to The 39 Steps. Based on the movie by Alfred Hitchcock, it is a comedic tour de farce with some of the best physical comedy I’ve seen live. Four actors play fifty characters at break neck speed with accents to match. Thank god for Velcro. Harriet Levy, my friend and Broadway producer maven, invited me to moderate the talk back after the show and I was honored to be close to such talent. Nearly speechless, actually.

Heck, while you’re in New York, go to the Natural History Museum. You won’t see Ben Stiller, but it’s amazing. I was there to see the award-winning documentary Edie and Thea: A Very Long Engagement in the Margaret Mead Theater. The documentarians, Susan Muska and Greta Olafsdottir and Edie her wonderful self were there to answer questions. After the film, we rambled out through the museum and wondered why we don’t go there more often. Or every day.

Since I was in New York, I had the honor of emceeing the outrageous 75th Birthday Party for Gloria Steinem at the Gramercy Park Hotel. It was good to be together with strong feminist women in the wake of the Stupak-Pitts amendment to limit abortion funding. But Gloria seems to sigh and soldier on; she’s an inspiration. Historian Blanche Wiesen Cook spoke and then Ann Hampton Callaway improvised a kicker birthday song to Gloria. As an extra bonus, the party benefited The Ms. Foundation.

And again, because I was in New York, I was able to do a last minute fill-in on an over-populated panel Joy Behar’s new CNN show. I got a few words in, but let me be clear that while Sarah Palin has been a comedy gift, she is dangerous and clueless about her folksy demagoguery.

I left New York to do the last show of my 2009 “Yes on K8!” Tour at the beloved Birchmere in Alexandria, VA just outside of DC. First I stopped at the Lambda Bookstore in DuPont circle, signed books and chatted with old friends and fascinating readers. What was a sad day in DC – the first Friday in forty years that the Washington Blade would not be published – was slightly improved by the appearance of “The DC Agenda” a thin broadside put out by the plucky Blade Staff covering news of DC City Council’s defense of marriage equality in the face of mighty bishoprics.

I write this from Syracuse, New York where I just attended the 90th birthday party of my dear comic mom, Jane Heitzman. I’ve known her for almost fifty years and it was Jane who introduced me to Nichols and May, Moms Mabley, Bell Barthe and much more. She would make me do dramatic readings in different accents of the many Christmas letters they received. I did some of my best early performances for her. She is as hilarious as ever and still appreciates a champagne cocktail.

If you have read this far, and thank you, I know you’re busy with holiday plans, you will look forward to my next blog with all the details of the White House State Dinner for the Prime Minister of India that I will attend with my dear partner on Tuesday night. I almost tossed the invite by mistake. Note to self: if it’s embossed, read it.

“Purpose of your visit?”

“To visit friends.”

“And you’re only staying one night?”

“It’s for a party.”

“Are you bringing gifts?”

“No.”

As usual I began my trip to Vancouver, feeling like a really bad friend. As we began our descent into the clouds over the beautiful western Canadian city, I was feeling a little feverish, and worried it might be the Swine Flu. But it turns out, it was Olympic Fever. The Winter Games begin in February and there’s a frantic undertone in the usual tranquility of Vancouver.

The veteran organizer Pat Hogan of Sounds and Furies Productions met me. She really is a production feminist friend from way back and seems to have longer days than most mortals. The show was in Wise Hall, an old cultural and sports center, that has been refurbished from its days as a post-game drinking hole for Welsh, Scottish, Irish and English teams. I had prepared for the requisite percentage of “Canadian content” but was mostly chagrinned to be describing our American struggle for marriage equality and healthcare. They have both in Canada. Their forbearance had just a tinge of justifiable smugness.

The next day, after hours of annoying if efficient immigration lines, I flew into Seattle, WA and hitched a ride with Seattle producer, Paul Bauer for a one hour drive to Olympia. Nothing like car rides for uninterrupted catch-up. That night I performed at the gorgeous Washington Center. Before the show, I stopped over to the Chica’s Café for a 50th birthday party my friend Kathy [aka Doodle] Smith hosted for her girlfriend. I’ll go anywhere for a Scorpio sister.

The next morning I left two days of rain and fifty degrees. In the Northwest they don’t say rain. They say drizzle, and only tourists use umbrellas. One woman told me since it rains all the time, you just can’t give into it. But what about my hair?
When I landed in Phoenix it was hot and dry. Luckily I had stored up hydration or I would have split down the middle.

But the ever-prepared Barbara McCullough-Jones, from Equality Arizona met me with a bottle of water. EA has done lots of events at the Fairmont Hotel in Scottsdale, so my lodgings were gratis. The place is a huge resort, but the man who took me to my room knew the way and it turned out he was from my hometown of Buffalo, NY. On our long trek, we shared about lake effect and the heartbreak of the Buffalo Bills.

That night I performed to a great crowd at the Wrigley Mansion. Yes, of the gum fame. Though not Nicorette, so what’s the point? Arizona is a state that has valiantly fought the Mormons and the right wing for marriage equality, so it was a great night to let off steam. Also good hydration.

After a great breakfast chat with Barbara about all the strategies they’ve been doing to change hearts and minds in AZ, I flew to Tucson. The town is a bit bluer than the red of Phoenix and that day they were having their huge annual Day of the Dead Parade. The lovely Kristen Birner, a friend from back in the Olivia, Redwood travel booking days, and a transplant to Tucson of six years, produced the show for the Alliance. At the reception after I met the Alliance board members, Lane Aldrich an artist and transplant from Bowling Green OH, special guests and a wonderful group of young LGBT and allies who work with Wingspan, their LGBT center.

The next morning at 5am, Jeff who with his partner runs The Royal Elizabeth B&B where I stayed very happily, got up and drove me to the airport. He wouldn’t hear of taxi. Jeff and Chuck are Long Island/DC transplants – I met one native Arizonan in two days – gracious hosts and political activists. I had one of the best early morning to the airport conversations I’ve ever had. Even better than the 430a ride to O’Hare with the vet at the Chicago Zoo who told me how she got rhino semen. Another story, another time.

Safely and happily home now in Manhattan. It’s freaky warm for November and about to rain, this day after my birthday. My life is a gift.

At 7:30 this election morning, we walked to our local polling place in the elementary school, past the “Vote Aqui” signs, past the bake sale moms, the cellophaned chocolate chip Frisbees and into the voting area. The elderly near-sighted, hard-of-hearing, darling polling ladies found our names. We signed the right spaces, went into the booth and voted. I love yanking that riverboat-sized lever that registers my votes. We walked out. It took about five minutes.

Last year we went to vote at 6 a.m., joined the end of a huge, line snaking down the block, dark morning air dotted with puffs of steam from coffee. Inside the packed, bikram muggy voting area, we were sent from one table to the next, stood in more lines and finally voted for Barack Obama. It took about an hour. It was just getting light as we left.

What a year it has been. No doubt you have your own ups and downs for your personal political highlights reel. When I view my own reel it seems to go into slo-mo on gay issues at first with Rick Warren, DADT and DOMA dallying, but then speeds up with the signing of the Hate Crimes bill and the lifting of the HIV immigration ban. I used the split screen function for economy, environment and education highlights. Obama’s got a lot going on. I spliced in a lot of art, music, vegetable garden, and Michelle footage. Lots of Michelle highlights. There’s too much quagmire footage.

I’m waiting to hear how my brother Bill did in his re-election bid to his city council in PA and for LGBT news from Kalamazoo, Washington and Maine. The governor’s race in NJ is too close to call. Our mayor’s audacious bid for a third term seems a done deal.

But mostly I am remembering last Election Day, stomach in knots, approaching-avoiding exit poll news, obsessively cleaning. That night at a friend’s house we watched, stunned as Barack Hussein Obama hit the required electoral count and heard the city erupt around us. Today a year after that historic election night, I realize I am happy to be a year into the Obama administration.