It’s almost September, time to don argyle knee socks and I haven’t even told you about refereeing Drag Kickball here in Provincetown?  Must be the vapors from my SPF 90 sunscreen.

The Ptown Kickers meet ever Tuesday for kickball at the high school field and even though their skills are quite developed,  their benefit contest with the loosely assembled drag performers in town was close fought.  More than the Red Sox against the Yankees.  But how hard is that?  Fire that bubble gum chomping manager’s Franconia’s notch. 

But I digress and it is the sunscreen.  Miss Richfield 1981, Cashetta, Scarbie and many unheralded drag queens played their little heels off.  Unfortunately I was the ref and I’m more interested in outfits, interpersonal relations and bipartisanship than actual numbers of innings and outs and scores.  Actually I’m a lot like the Red Sox manager. Who knew?  But we raised some money for the Community Center and it was a gorgeous day.

Carnival Week was slamming in town.  And since the theme was Gay Paree, I was looking for some old fashioned world cup soccer head butting on the floats, but everyone is far more mature than I,  so French maids, Eiffel Towers, french fries and toast and poodles and I think a guillotine graced the parties throughout the week. 

We’re in the lull week before the Labor Day week and Sunday, August 20  was the absolute last day lily of my garden, so soon, the pack up and head back to "reality" begins. Wish I could be in NYC for the dedication of the Billie Jean King Sports Complex before the US Open opens, but I’ve got to work in Ptown.  It’s an amazing and richly deserved honor for our Billie.

It’s so good to see my dear fans, all tanned and relaxed and having vacations.  It’s been fun and I’m ready to hit the road.  First stop is Alaska with the Oliviettes.  I’m taking some of the gals on an excursion, on our snomobiles to that BP pipeline.  Klondykes with all weather duct tape – we’ll fix that thing.  Sheesh. 

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Time is flying here in Ptown, the town that theme weekends built.  Bear Week just ended.  It was hell on the drains, but lots of the bears came to my shows and after gave me bear hugs, literally.

I left the island for the Opening Ceremonies of the Gay Games in Chicago.  Chi-town welcomed us  warmly.  Like 106 degrees.  Which I might have thought was gay-bashing if it weren’t for the kick-ass welcome from their very gay friendly mayor, Mayor Daley.  My favorite moment was when, after thanking gay people for revitalizing American cities, especially Chicago, he called the thrice-divorced congressional opponents to gay marriage what they are – hypocrites.  30,000 people went wild.

The opening night was quite the spectacle – nothing like watching 12,000 athletes from 30 countries pour out onto Soldiers Field.  When they shut the stadium lights down and the field became a rainbow flag of 12,000 glo-sticks, it was pretty impressive.  I believe we do have the crowd moving skills to get us the heck out of Iraq. 

Backstage I got to see Holly Near, Teresa Trull, Barbara Higbie, Nedra Johnson, Suzanne Westenhoffer, Jim Hormel, Margaret Cho and so many of my pals.  It was a hopping green room. 

The show at The Park West, one of my all time favorite venues, was sponsored by the fine folks at HRC, which I thought was Hillary Rodham Clinton, but no, it was the Human Rights Campaign.  I’ve got to read my contracts more carefully.  The HRC staff was way fun and professional and the place was packed.  Some of the gals who were at my first Chicago show at The Mountain Moving Coffeehouse were there!

I made a quick trip with my galpal to see Melissa Etheridge on her summer tour stop in Minneapolis.  Yes, I now officially have more frequent flier miles than the Widow Ratzinger, but how hard is that?  Melissa was in fine form and voice and there is a transcendent joy of living about her that kicks her performance to new levels.  She of course, rocked for two and a half hours.  I saw her for a moment with Tammy and the twins to be – in the Twin Cities of course. 

I wish the Midwest could export some of its peace to the Mideast.  It’s heartbreaking – I can feel it even in my sweet summer audiences.  Rest up this summer, we’ve got work to do in the upcoming midterm elections. 

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Greetings from Provincetown – it’s Fourth of July, Independence Day. I’ve just put the finishing touches on my annual Co-Dependency Float.  It looks great.  If you think so.  We pull it ourselves.  The bunting is black and blue. 

The trip to my Irish Homeland was too short but it was lovely to be among my people – big heads, widows peaks, lots of winking and like me, they enjoy a good vest.  The driving was like a trust walk in a long-term relationship retreat weekend, but no one got hurt.  And Triple A will cover the side mirror.  The landscape is the landscape of my heart and who knew there were so many variations on green?

I returned just in time to do the Garden Party on the Pier for the New York GLBT Community Center and left there and went to the Hammerstein Ballroom to do a set in the End the Violence concert sponsored by V-Day.  I’m not sure what time zone I was in at the time, but the events were wonderful and great fundraisers for two of my favorites.

The annual packing and moving to Ptown happened almost without a hitch.  FYI, if you get a large enough rental car, you can fit two bikes in the back seat.  Someday I might even be able to untangle them.  The June crowds in Ptown were lovely and relaxed before the insanity that is July and August.  The new staff at the Crown and Anchor are great.  Cashetta, a gay magic act; the drag magic of Randy Roberts; the comedy stylings of Miss Richfield 1981; the entertainment extravaganzas of Ryan Landry all make up the entertainment hub that is my place of employ.  I’m the only real woman on the bill, so it’s a big responsibility.

Sad news has its way with us though.  My friend, Eric Rofes, a long time activist, educator, agitator, thinker in the gay movement, died here suddenly of a heart attack on June 26. He lived in San Francisco, taught at Humboldt State and was here for the summer finishing his 13th book, a work on the gay movement in the 70s.  It is a huge loss for all of us.  Friends gathered here for a memorial and came to our house after.  Say a prayer for his partner of 16 years, his friends and family. 

Do yourself a favor and get Alison Bechdel’s new book, Fun Home.  I hope Eric got to read it.  It is stunning and richly deserves the wonderful reviews it has been getting  She herself is a dyke to watch out for who has arrived!

I’ll be working here in Ptown until I go off to the Gay Games in Chicago.  I am participating – no not as a shot putter – but in the opening ceremonies. I’ll also be doing a show on Monday night July 17th at the Park West, one of my favorite venues. 

Okay, the parade is about to begin, I better hoof the float uptown. Happy What’s Left of Independence Day!

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Though it was the 16th Annual Gay Days in Orlando, it was my first time in attendance. The ballroom of the Hotel Royal was packed to the rafters, thanks to the producer, Margaret Nolan and we had a raucous good time. The hotel was also the site of a gay trade fair and non-stop parties. What started sixteen years ago as a day, has now burgeoned into a weeklong celebration.  Not only does it bring gays together from all over the country, according to Pat Robertson, it also causes hurricanes and other natural disasters.

And we have the power to destroy marriage.  We’re amazing.  It’s time for a Gay Years.

From the excellent road managing of Kathy Mullen, whom I last saw stage managing the March on Washington and who now works for, as she says, "The Mouse"  I was off to Santa Rosa, California.  I really have to get my booking agent a map.

Tracye Lea Lawson met me in Oakland and we drove up through the vineyards to Santa Rosa.  The hard-working, Ellen Maremont and Robyn Branhal of We Mean It productions brought me to a packed house of 1300 at the Wells Fargo Center, FKA The Luther Burbank.  The staff of the venue is one of the best in the country.  Andre Kelley rocked the house with a funny opening set and introduced me.  It was a blast and then, because those California gals don’t know when to stop, they had a dance after!

The flight home was my favorite kind – uneventful.  Since my return, I feel as if my head might blow off with fury at the ‘president’ and his marriage amendment.  We’ve established what a calculating, mendacious piece of work he is, but what is really frying me is our so-called allies who dryly blather on about procedural-this and state’s-rights-that when it’s your and my life they are talking about.  They are disgusting. 

For quite a while, I’ve had a June roots tour planned to Ireland.  No, not my hair. We’ll do our best to come back to the states.  No guarantees. 

O’okay – I promise I’ll be back for the NY GLBT Center Garden Party and the End Violence Against Women Concert.  But then I’m going to Ptown for the summer.  Come see me at the Crown. 

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First there was the lovely visit to Maggie Cassella’s 10th Annual "We’re Funny That Way" Comedy Festival.  I really was a guest worker!  From the opening night dinner gala through a rotating schedule of comedy – The Nellie Olsens, Dina Martini, Karen Williams and Maggie herself – the weekend is a Juste Pour Gay Rires.  Maggie raises and then donates money to lots of arts projects in the area.  She’ll be back at the Vixen in Ptown this summer.  You have not really lived until she "flyers" you!!

Since I had a little time in the apres midi, I got to visit with Elvira Kurt and see her new baby – le petit Madeleine. Elvira and Chloe have a beauty!  Elvira’s comedy stylings often involve deft imitations of her mother.  Goes around, comes around.  I saw Madeliene do an imitation of Elvira doing a goo goo.

I made it through customs – when they ask, "Are you bringing dangerous weapons into the country?" I always want to point to my tongue.  The nine-seater from Boston to Ptown was almost canceled due to thick fog, but my Muse was with me, and we flew off when there was a tiny window of opportunity. 

We used to call the long Memorial weekend "Bud Lite Weekend" because all the young gals, just graduated from colleges in the Northeast, all in backward baseball caps were seen lugging huge coolers of beer into their motels and rental houses.  But a wag on the west end of town told me that he called it "Mamorial Day."  It’s not about pink ribbons and walking – it’s about partying and carrying on and having a blast.  And they did. 

It was a great kickoff to another summer season at the Crown and Anchor.  The C&A season resumes for me on June 22, after stops in Orlando and Santa Rosa, and a week in Ireland where I’ll be tracing my roots.  Not hair, dears, although they are getting darker and trashier by the minute.   

Happy Gay Pride – the month formerly known as June!

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You missed a really good time in Lansing, Michigan.  "Where’s that Kate?" you ask.  Well, hold up your right hand, palm facing you, doesn’t it look like Michigan? It does.  There, just above your life line and right below that black mark from the Sharpee you used last night, that’s where Lansing is.  And how about washing up a little better?

The lovely gals from Goldenrod, now in their 31st year of women’s music and culture distribution, kindly agreed to produce my 25th Anniversary Show.  That was in addition to their regular chores.  The show was at the gorgeous Dart Auditorium and Eileen Ford, who opened for me in 1986, if we remember correctly, came out of comedy retirement to do her usual sly and witty remarks.  Lansing is the unheralded epi-center of deep lesbian magma – The MWMF, the Lesbian Connection, Goldenrod – all spring from that soil.  Which was supersaturated from Portland, OR like rains.

A special thanks to Sue and all the volunteers.  And  very special congratulations to Terry Grant, head Goldenrod honcha and Sue Emert.  They’ve been together for 30 years.  When I asked Sue the secret of their success, she laughed.  That’s the secret.

The next night I played at The Ark, a fine cultural center, run by Dave and Linda Siglin and all their community volunteers.  It’s in Ann Arbor – hand again, palm up, more east to the base of your thumb.  The space is close and fun and for years my sweet Ann Arborettes have plunked their butts in those chairs which make the mark of waffles on their cheeks.  I understand that in 1988, one lesbian was able to prove her whereabouts to her doubting partner by displaying faint, but recognizable, waffle like indentations. 

This Friday night I have the great pleasure of emceeing The Streb salute to Phillipe Petite at Elizabeth’s action lab in Brooklyn.  And two of our favorite lesbian brothers received Tony nominations thise week – Lisa Krohn for Well and Cynthia Nixon for Rabbit Hole.  And lesbians are taking over daytime TV.  Now if we could just take over the country.  On the way to that- all you Michiganders – do what you can to get Governor Granholme re-elected.   

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My show in Plymouth, New Hampshire was a fitting end to a busy April.  The northern New Hampshire city is located at the mouth of the Ply, or something like that.  One of the most gorgeous theaters in the state, The Silver Cultural Arts Center, ably run by Diane Jeffrey, was the scene of gals coming out of the hills for a night of comedy. 

The next weekend it was on to The Birchmere, a rollicking roadhouse in Alexandria, Virginia on the outskirts of Washington, DC, or as we call it in my house "The Vortex of Evil."  Mary Farmer, the former owner of Lammas Books in DC was my road manager du jour.  It was a packed house, a freakily knowledgeable crowd.  In DC, not only do they know all the Departmental Secretaries, they know who their secretaries are and what perfume they wear.  "What’s that cologne you’re wearing?  Passive-Aggressive?" 

Saturday night I played the the gorgeous Pack Place Performing Arts Center in Asheville.  Located in the Smokey Mountains, "A-She-Ville" as the gals all call it, was bursting with rhodendrun and sweet smelling spring things.  My two pals Nancy and Beth, recent transplants from Jamaica Plain, showed me around their magical, musical city.  Again, the gals came out of the hills for the show.  Employment Equality for Gays and Lesbians, EEGL,  a new civil rights group founded in response to some recent unfortunate homophobic firings was there in courageous force.  Laurel Scherer and Virginia Balfour are the essence of grass roots activists. 

On Sunday, Barbara Lau, a producer friend from years ago in St. Louis, hooked up with me in Durham, home of the recent really unpleasantness with the Duke LaCrosse team.  Blue Devils, indeed.  The show at the Reynold’s Theater was a benefit for the incredible, hands on group, called SWOOP – Strong Women Organizing Outrageous Projects. Now in its tenth year, the group was formed to help with hurricane cleanup. One weekend a month for ten years, they have organized 50-70 women to swoop in and do a cleanup, a renovation, a rehab whatever is needed for the poor, the disabled, the overwhelmed.  They were Extreme Makeover before Extreme Makeover was cool. Never have toolbelts been so sexy. They are selecting a city in the southeast for a summer road trip swoop. 

In Durham, as I was signing programs after the show, I looked up and right into the face of the vice-principal from the high school where I last taught! I thought he was going to ask for a hall pass.  Bob Rinker and his wife Jeane, had retired to Pinehurst and they were at the show!  I had not been out when I taught.  When I run into former students now, they always say, "We knew you were funny."  And I ask, "Did you know I was gay?"  They always respond, "Oh yes."  And I say, "Well, why didn’t you tell me?"  They all claim the Frye boots were the giveaway. 

Bob and Jeane were beaming.  I basked in their pride and then they told me about everybody else who had since come out!  They had some excellent dish.  We could have served collard greens. 

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If it’s Spring, and I think it is – yes, there’s that telltale sign – the RiteAid bag lufting in the tree – it must be fundraising dinner season.  As a professional dinner emcee, although now I like to think of myself as a guest worker, I’ve had the pleasure of not eating with thousands of lesbians and gay men.  The recent Fenway Community Health Women’s Dinner in Boston was its usual Seasonal See and Be Seen self. Those girls know how to partay!   

The Task Force dinner in New York at the Grand Hyatt honored Pulitzer Prize winning author, and fellow summer blonde,  Michael Cunningham and  the newly elected openly lesbian Speaker of the New York City Council, Christine Quinn.  We are so proud of her, we could plotz. The main dish at any Task Force event was lively dish. 

My dear girls from NCLR threw their annual gala at the Moscone Center in their home town of San Francisco and 2900 attended!  It was a sea of lesbians, acres of exes.  The estrogen reached dangerous levels.  Dangerous as in excellent.  The honorees – pioneering activist/therapist, Betty Berzon; the first two-spirited couple to marry in the Cherokee Nation, Dawn McKinley and Kathy Reynolds; MVP basketball player Sheryl Swoopes and Jennifer Harris who challenged her UPenn basketball coach’s homophobia – did us all honor.  Executive Director, Kate Kendall, challenged us to engage our adversaries.  If to know us, is not automatically to love us [who knew?] at the very least we need to make our very personal selves known to them.  She is one of my favorite radical optimists.

Thank goodness, I got to break up the dinner season with a lovely visit to Ft. Worth, Texas.  Home of the Cowgirl Hall of Fame!  Pardner.  The dames from Open Door Productions really know how to put on a show.  Kris McIntosh and Linda Schram and all their compatriot volunteers took great care of me from door to door.  And let me tell you, no one enjoys a little [okay a lotta] Bush bashing more than Texans!

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Imagine my disappointment that I did not meet the Governor of Caleefornia, Col. Klink, when I was on tour in Sacramento.  It was a sunny day, and after weeks of rain, the natives ran to greet me as their precipitation liberator.  We had a Really Good Friday, especially with all the new info on Brokeback Judas and the kiss.  The crowd was raucous and gave it thier Passion Week best.   The Crest Theater is a beautifully restored vaudeville house and I could feel the ghosts of comics past.

The next night in Portland Oregon, at the gorgeous Newmark Theater was also a hoot.  After we got the people out of the theater who thought they were going to be attending a Cable Guy Show.  Heck no, that’s next door.  And some of the lesbians who went into the Cable Guy Show in error learned a great deal and reported back that it is not going well for straight people.

My agent Tam Martin, who lives in Portland, smooothly managed all the details of the show and caught me up on all the news.

The Tour is rolling on like clockwork but I want to give you all a heads up.  If Rummy resigns, [big if, he’s doing all the planning with Dick Excellent Hunter Cheney to bomb Iran right now, he wants to go out with a bang] I’m going for his job.  I couldn’t do it worse.  I’ve got excellent people.

Darlings, it’s a Maundy Monday in New York and the crabapple trees are in bloom.  I’m stepping away from my e-vehicle and I’m off to the park.   

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Heads up to all of you in and around the New York Metropolitan area! 

After you’ve finished your immigration protest marching, why not stop over to see the fabulous offspring of Cuban and Puerto Rican immigrants, Miss Marga Gomez in her HIGHlarious show LOS BIG NAMES at the 47th Street Theatre? 

You’ll see why we need to keep those borders open.  Marga gives Guest Worker even more zing.  She is physically fearless – her impersonation of Kathleen Turner and Sharon Stone are killer, but you haven’t really lived until you see her do Queen Latifah as Tiny, in her undersea depth death scene in the movie Sphere. 

You’ll laugh.  You’ll cry.  Go.  Get a date for Marga’s show and apparently for Marga.  She likes em femme and appreciative. 

She makes us all proud.  Viva La Marga!

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