Well for those of you read Dana’s blog you may have seen her post about the trip to the restaurant with a certain clientelle. If you haven’t read it, head over there, read it, and report back, mkay? Alright then is everyone here now? Well then let me tell you the story. First I should tell you that I’ve known my mom was a lesbian since I was about 11 years old. Before that, I thought the rainbow stickers on the car were just pretty, and that Patty was her roommate. I never made the connection that it was odd that roommates share a room and bed, because they were friends. I lived in California and I still didn’t get it for a while, but I was young and sheltered. By the time this story takes place I had come to terms with my mom’s preferences. I had moved back to live my dad which would make me about 15 and I was visiting my mom for the summer. She also had an old friend visiting from Indiana and we were doing some touristy type stuff– Bodega Bay, China Town, and Armstrong woods. On our trip to and from Armstrong woods we had to pass through a little town called Guerneville. My mom explained to her friend on the way up that Guerneville was home to a very large population of homosexuals of both genders and as we drove through on the way to the woods, this was blatantly obvious. Branded on my memory forever is the picture of two big biker dudes strolling down the street hand in hand. It still makes me grin that they were so comfortable with themselves because in my book thats a good thing. They had the black leather everything, shave bald heads and kind of reminded me of Stone Cold Steve Austin. We made our way to the hallowed halls of Armstrong woods, spent a couple of hours worshipping God’s work there, and then headed home. Our obstinate Jeep had other plans tho and we had to stop in Guerneville to get some transmission fluid because our transmission had sprung a leak. Now from here is where things got amusing. There we were– my mom, her girlfriend, her friend who was a girl, and her 15 year old daughter. My mom is not butch at all and neither is PK. But having been married to a mechanic for 15 years, my mom knows her way around the basics of a vehicle just like I do from growing up with a mechanic for a dad. So my mom popped the hood and proceeded to refill the transmission fluid. About that time a woman comes over. She was dressed in the stereotypical garb of a woman who is the “man” in the relationship- flannel shirt with long sleeves rolled up to the elbows, straightlegged work jeans, and the ultimate mullet. She was weathered and worn and very tough looking. She comes over to my mom, looking at her appraisingly and says in a deep voice, “Can I help you there honey?” My mom’s friend and I as the token heterosexuals in the car are strangling on our laughter and PK is bristling. My mom said something along the lines of, “Thanks but we’re okay,” and the woman kinda shrugged and walked off. We made it home without incident, but I still have to grin and laugh every time that story comes to mind.
